My mind was wandering again. I was trying to visualize Hell. What kind of tortures could I expect? What kind of tortures did I deserve?

My dad had once defined hell in a game, but nobody took it too seriously. It was just a game. But once, in an interview, he admitted that his vision of hell was "to be trapped forever in the Small World ride at Disneyland."

Foreman was saying, "One of the first things that happens when the mind is confronted with information that it doesn't want to hear, or doesn't want to believe, is that the mind retreats. It goes unconscious. We saw that rather dramatically demonstrated when McCarthy here passed out.

"But there are other kinds of unconsciousness too. Daydreaming. for example. Here's the joke. You want to notice when you go unconscious-if you can-because that thing that your mind is trying to block out is very likely the one thing you most need to hear. McCarthy, are you paying attention? Remember, this process continues until you are dead."

I snapped to attention. There was a little laughter from the room. Had I been daydreaming again? Yes.

"Good. McCarthy is a textbook case. But don't feel superior. It doesn't matter who we put up here on the stage: any one of you would be a textbook case. The point is, you need to stay conscious today. This may be the single most important day in your training. It's certainly the most important day for McCarthy. Right, James?"

I was beginning to hate him. How could he talk so calmly about my death?

"Remember when we were in Africa?" asked Foreman. "Living in trees, scratching for fleas? Remember all those millions of years of evolution that are hard-wired into your cerebral cortex? No? Well, no matter-it's there anyway. The problem is, you think because you're not conscious of it that it's not there, that somehow you can be a human being independent of your evolutionary history. I say that's bullshit. You can no more be free of your evolutionary history than a fish can be free of water. You swim in your history-and it's as transparent and invisible to you as the water is to the fish."

Foreman grinned abruptly, as if remembering a joke. "The only difference between you and the fish is that the fish doesn't spend half his life making explanations for the other half. That's right, laugh. Laughter is another way of avoiding the issue. Reality evasion. Pretend that this doesn't have to be taken seriously. Yes-remember how we used to joke about Chtorrans and the people who claimed to have seen them?"

"This is different!" shouted somebody.

Foreman didn't even look up. "Raise your hand if you have something to say." He looked and pointed. "Yes? Rodman?"

A man near the front stood up. He had long, shoulder-length hair. He looked like a Navajo Indian. Maybe he was. "This is a stunt," he said. "A very carefully prepared stunt, I'll admit. It's very convincing. But you're not really going to kill McCarthy, it'd be a waste of a good officer."

"Those are assumptions on your part: one, that we're not going to kill McCarthy, and two, that he's a good officer. Frankly, I've heard he's a terrible officer."

"He's still a human being!" A woman stood up without waiting to be recognized. "You can't just kill a human being."

"I can, I have, and I will," said Foreman. "Let me demonstrate something. Every single person in this room who has ever taken a human life, regardless of the circumstances, please stand up." At least a hundred people stood up.

Foreman nodded. "All right, remain standing. Now, if you have ever been present when a human being was violently killed, please stand up."

At least another hundred and fifty people stood.

"You're talking about combat situations--that's different!" The woman protested.

"That's an assumption," Foreman replied quietly. "We don't know that those deaths occurred in a combat circumstance. It's a probable assumption because most of you think this course is filled with military officers, but it's just as possible that most of the people in this course are murderers, granted conditional reprieves from Death Row. Don't make assumptions." He waved the people back down into their seats.

"You're horrible!" said the woman.

"Yes, I am. So, what?"

"You shouldn't be making jokes about it! This isn't funny!"

"I agree with you. This isn't funny at all. There's a human life at stake. It was never meant to be funny. I apologize if it came off that way. The point is that violent death is not an uncommon or unusual occurrence to most of the people in this room; so the notion that there is something uncommon or unusual in what we're doing is invalid."

"We're talking about a human life!"

"I know that," said Foreman calmly.

"You can't just kill him!"

"I can. And I will-if that's what it takes to convince you that I'm serious about this process."

"It's illegal!"

"No, it's not." Foreman pointed to the screen where the president's order was displayed.

"Well, it's still wrong."

"Ahh! It's wrong. Yes: Life is right. Death is wrong. Therefore, killing is wrong. That's your survival mode speaking. If the truth be told, you personally don't give a shit whether Jim lives or dies-you're just terrified that if we establish the precedent of taking lives without apparent reason, you might find yourself in front of the gun next. Right?"

The woman didn't answer immediately. After a bitter pause, she snarled, "You're awfully glib. What if it was you in front of the gun?"

"It's not me in front of the gun. The question is irrelevant. This process isn't about my survival. It's about yours. And McCarthy's." Abruptly, Foreman noticed that Rodman was still standing and waiting patiently. "Actually, Rodman had the floor-you're interrupting; sit down. Rodman, do you have anything else to say?"

"No. I just wanted to say that I don't believe you. I think the gun is some kind of psychological trick to make us angry or scared. You're trying to get us to jump through your hoop. And it's already starting to work. Your conversation with her shows you scared her silly." He sat down, pleased with himself.

"Thanks for sharing that," said Foreman. "But what you think has nothing to do with what's actually going to happen. We have a loaded gun up here. I intend to use it before the end of the day." To the rest of the room, "Rodman doesn't believe that. He thinks it's a trick. Let's see, what was it Samuel Johnson said? Oh, yes," Foreman read from the manual, " 'Depend on it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.'

"It's still very early in the day," said Foreman. "At this point, I'm sure that most of you are still thinking that this gun is only a prop to help you 'concentrate your minds wonderfully.' Well, yes-that's part of the purpose; the gun does focus your attention; but I should also remind you what Chekhov said. That's Anton, not Pavel," Foreman frowned his annoyance at the presumed illiteracy of the group and turned the page of the manual. "'If somebody places a gun on the mantel in the first act, it must be fired before the end of the second.' I promise you that we will use this gun today."

Foreman stopped himself to make a tangential point. "What we are doing here is demonstrating the first part of the process of dying. Denial. Most of you in this room-including even McCarthy-are refusing to accept that I am serious about this process. We will remain in the denial phase until everybody in the room is satisfied that this is not a trick. I am going to tell Colonel Marisov to shoot Captain McCarthy. This process will continue until Captain McCarthy is dead. The denial of this process is part of what you think you have to do to survive. That's why you do it. Now, where was I?" He strode back to the stand with the manual on it. "Oh, yes-I was talking about our evolutionary history.