they hate!"

"But the understudy system wouldn't work, then," Mr. Kojac pointed
out. "You can't learn from a man who upsets you."

Bozzy nodded miserably.

* * * * *

In silence, he let himself be carried toward the furniture factory,
till Mr. Kojac asked, "Did you bring the stimulants?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Excuse me. I should have offered them sooner." With
embarrassed clumsiness, he fished from a pocket in his under-wear the
pills required by custom. "Here you are, sir," he said in ritual form.
"Big pills make troubles little."

Mr. Kojac smiled. "I don't need any," he said gently. "You do. Take
one."

"That isn't proper!"

"No one will know. Go ahead."

He would feel like a fool to take a pill brought only for Mr. Kojac's
use. He would feel much more like a fool if he broke down during the
ceremony--might even lose his job.

He took the pill, finally, and immediately felt sorry. He was still
tense and twitchy when they reached the factory.

As custom demanded, everyone was out of sight. Nobody met them at the
gate, or observed their silent progress up the escalator to the
personnel office. Noiselessly, through empty soundproof offices, they
walked together to the ceremonial chamber.

The door they used was the room's only entrance. It was hooked open
invitingly. Within was a small conference table of imitation oak, and
six chairs of imitation leather. Ceiling, walls, and floor were
plastic sheets in soft, sandy shades that harmonized with the
furniture's rich browns.

[Illustration]

On the table were four wristlets, four anklets, and two belts, all
made of iron links and stamped with either Bozzy's or Mr. Kojac's
name. As he had been told to do, Bozzy picked out and put on his own
set while Mr. Kojac rested in the armchair at the head of the table.
Then, breathing noisily, he knelt before Mr. Kojac and fastened the
old man's anklets.

He rose, grunting. Mr. Kojac held out first the left hand, then the
right, while Bozzy put the wristlets on him. Their cheeks accidentally
touched while Bozzy fastened the belt. He thought of his father and
was irrationally tempted to plant a kiss, as if he were four instead
of forty.

He stifled the impulse and shook hands instead.

"Good luck," Mr. Kojac said.

* * * * *

The procedure did not call for that remark, and so, for a second,
Bozzy forgot what came next. Then, helped by the stimulant pill