"Initiates are not needed for such a purpose," he said.

"True," I said. It could be a caste, the state, a leader, many things.

"The Initiates might have provided a core of resistance to Cos," he said. "Cos saw to it, with offerings, and hetacombs, and such, that they would not do so."

"So they preached their passivity, their resignation?"

"Of course," I said. "But to reduce their offerings, threaten their coffers, imperil their power, and it will not be long before they locate their patriotism."

"Cos is very clever," said Marcus.

"Clearly," I said.

"I hate Initiates," he said.

"I had gathered that," I admitted.

"I despise them," he said.

"Perhaps it is merely that you find yourself reluctant to rejoice in dishonesty, and to celebrate blatant fraud and hypocrisy," I said.

"Do you think it could be so easily explained?" he asked.

"Possibly," I said.

"I do have my limitations," he said.

"We all do," I said.

"And yet," he said, "the world is very mysterious."

"True," I said.

"What is its nature?" he asked.

"I am sure I do not know," I said.

He suddenly struck his fist into the palm of his hand. It must of stung. A fellow turned about, looking at him, and then continued on his way. "But it is here I am," he exclaimed, looking about himself, at the street, the avenue, the buildings, the trees, the fountains, the sky. "And it is here I will live!"

"That seems to me wise," I said.

"I have enjoyed this conversation, Tarl," he said. "It has meant a great deal to me."

"I haven't understood it in the least," I said.

"Some folks are so shallow," he said.

"But perhaps you are right, I said. "Perhaps, things are different in Ar."

"Certainly!" he said, observing her.

"Hold, female!" said I.

The slave stopped, apprehensively.

"And surely she is not the first such you have seen of late," he said.

"No," I said. "Do not kneel," I told her. I wished the better to consider her legs.

Marcus and I walked about her.

"Consider the brevity of her tunic," he said, "its cleavage, its sleevelessness, the slashes at the hem of her skirt.

"Yes," I said.

The girl blushed crimson.

"This is a sign," he said, "that the virility of the men of Ar is reviving."

"Yes," I said.

"And surely you have not failed to notice that in the last few days many slaves, many, indeed, are scantier garmented than before," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"I think it is clear that the men of Ar are beginning to recollect their manhood," he said. "They are becoming more dangerous."

"Yes," I said.

Several weeks ago in Ar there had been some hints of an attempt on the part of the Ubarate, as a social-control procedure, to facilitate its goverance, a venture doubtless emanating from Cos, which had reason to fear an alert, healthy foe, to reduce the vitality and virility of the men of Ar, to further crush and depress them. This was to be done under the initial guise of sumptuary laws, ostensibly to limit the adornment and display of slaves, as though there could be much of that sort of thing in the defeated city. This was to be followed by legislation encouraging, and then apparently to later require, more modest garmenture for slaves. There were even suggestions of attempting to regulate the relationships obtaining between masters and slaves. There was some talk of greater «respect» for slaves, that they might be permitted to drink from the higher bowls at the public fountains, even the insanity that one might not be able to make use of them without their permission, thus turning the master into a slave's slave. Naturally the motivation of this, putting aside the standard camouflage of moralistic prose which may be conveniently invoked for any purpose whatsoever, even those most antithetical to nature, health, reason, truth and life, was no concern for slaves but rather a desire to diminish the men of Ar, to make them easier to manage and exploit. Naturally they were expected to accept their own castration, so to speak, as a cause for rejoicing, as a long overdue improvement of their condition. How glorious things were to be, once men had succeeded in achieving their own destruction. On the other hand the first straws testing the winds of Ar, cast in the streets, in the baths, in the taverns and markets, had been blown back with such fierceness that these castrative proposals had been almost immediately withdrawn. Indeed, a small announcement had even appeared on the boards, in the name of Ubara herself, that slave girls should obey their masters and try to be pleasing to them.

Revolution, I do not doubt, would have occurred in the city. The men of Ar would have died rather than give up at least the retained semblance of their manhood. They had experienced the dominance, the mastery. This, once tasted, is never relinquished. The mistake of the Central Cylinder in this case, of course, was in attempting to impose such reductionism on adult males, even defeated ones, who actually understood what was involved. The best prospects for the success of such policies are to implement them among men who have never tasted the mastery or, ideally, on innocent children who, if the programs are successful, will lead the child to suspect and fear himself, to experience shame and guilt at the very promptings of his own body and nature. It is a question, of course, as to the feasibility of these distortions, and the long-range consequences of them, if they prove feasible. Irreparable damage would result to the gene pool and the human race might actually, interestingly, eventually, for lack of will and joy, cease to thrive, as well, for if the human being cannot be a human being, why should it be anything else? Indeed, there is more than one way for a race to become extinct. The prehistoric wolf hunts now only in the corridors of the past. The poodle survives. Does the poodle remember? Does the wolf live in the poodle yet? I do not know. Would it not be interesting if the wolf were not dead but sleeping, and returned. Does this fear disturb the sleep of sheep?

"Kneel," I said to the female, "now."

Swiftly she knelt.

"You are pretty," I said.

"Thank you, Master," she said, frightened.

"Head to the pavement," I said, "palms on it."

She compiled, losing no time. She looked well, in this position of obeisance. "You seem fulfilled," I said.

"My master handles me well," she said.

"What would occur if you were not pleasing?" I asked.

"I would be beaten," she said.

"Stand," I said.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Put your head back, your hands clasped behind it," I said.

"Oh!" she said.

"She is in the iron belt," I said to Marcus.

"Excellent!" he said. This, too, in its way, was a sign that manhood, or the suspicion of it, might be reasserting itself in the streets of Ar, that masters, or some of them at least, would no longer take for granted the safety of their girls in the streets. Naturally self-pride and health stimulates sexual vitality. Contrariwise, of course, as sexual vitality is stunted and crippled, so, too, will be masculine pride and health. One cannot poison a part of an animal without poisoning the whole animal.

"Speed off!" I said.

The girl sped away.

"I envy the fellow his slave," said Marcus.

"And he would probably envy you yours," I said.

"I would not trade Phoebe for her," he said.

"And he might not trade her for Phoebe," I smiled.

"Perhaps not," he said.

I wondered if a man could be a man without a slave. I supposed that he might be a strong fellow, and a good fighter, and such, without a slave. Similarly, one might have lived I supposed, without having eaten meat, without having heard music. I wondered if a woman knew what it was to be a woman without ever having had a master. It did not seem to me likely.