The blows seemed to come from very far away. They didn't do things like
this out in the station. Lancaster realized the truth at that moment,
but it held no surprise. The most natural thing in the world. And now,
of course, he'd never talk.

Maybe.

When he woke up, there was a man before him. The face blurred, seemed to
grow to monstrous size and then move out to infinite distances. The
voice of Harris had a ripple in it, wavering up and down, up and down.

"All right, Lancaster, here's the President. Since you insist, here he
is."

"Go ahead, American," said the man. "Tell me. It's your duty."

"No," said Lancaster.

"But I am the President. You wanted to see me."

"Most likely a double. Prove your identity."

The man who looked like the President sighed and turned away.

* * * * *

Lancaster woke up again lying on a cot. He must have been brought awake
by a stimulant, for a white-coated figure was beside him, holding a
hypodermic syringe. Harris was there too, looking exasperated.

"Can you talk?" he asked.

"I--yes." Lancaster's voice was a dull croak. He moved his head, feeling
the ache of it.

"Look here, fellow," said Harris. "We've been pretty easy with you so
far. Nothing has happened to you that can't be patched up. But we're
getting impatient now. It's obvious that you're a traitor and hiding
something."

Well, yes, thought Lancaster, he was a traitor, by one definition. Only
it seemed to him that a man had a right to choose his own loyalties.
Having experienced what the police state meant, he would have been
untrue to himself if he had yielded to it.

"If you don't answer my questions in the next session," said Harris,
"we'll have to start getting really rough."

Lancaster remained silent. It was too much effort to try to speak.

"Don't think you're being heroic," said Harris. "There's nothing pretty
or even very human about a man under interrogation. You've been
screaming as loud as anybody."

Lancaster looked away.

He heard the doctor's voice. "I'd advice giving him a few days' rest
before starting again, sir."

"You're new here, aren't you?" asked Harris.

"Yes, sir. I was only assigned to this duty a few weeks ago."

"Well, we don't put on kid gloves for traitors."

"That's not what I mean, sir," said the doctor. "There are limits to
pain beyond which further treatment simply doesn't register. Also, I'm a
little suspicious about this man's