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Updated: June 6, 2025
The voice broke off as suddenly as it had begun, but the box was not silent. From it came a medley of shouts, curses, feminine screams and splintering crashes. Prestonby and Claire were on their feet. "You have wall screens?" he asked. "How do they work? Like the ones at school?" Claire twisted a knob until the number 32 appeared on a dial, and pressed a button.
And that will remove any objection to our being married." "But ... how about the Senator?" she asked. Prestonby shrugged. "It's all over the state now that you can read; there's nothing that you can do about it. And Frank has a lot of influence with him; he'll talk him around to where he'll be willing to make the best of it, in a week or so."
I didn't notice any of them falling down, so I suppose you didn't see anything out of line." "Well, the hall monitors make them turn in their little playthings at the doors," Yetsko said, "but hall monitors can be gotten at, and some of the stuff they make in Manual Training, when nobody's watching them " Prestonby nodded.
"They're all outta small money in Notions; every son and his brother's been in there in the last hour to buy a pair of dollar shoestrings with a grand-note." "I'll take care of that," Hutschnecker said. "Wait till I call control tower, and tell them about the fireworks." "How much does Mrs. H. Armytage Zydanowycz want credit for?" Prestonby asked.
The trip out through the conduit was not so difficult, even with the encumbrance of the unconscious Chester Pelton, but Prestonby was convinced that, except for the giant strength of Doug Yetsko, it would have been nearly impossible. Ray Pelton, recovered from his after-battle nausea and steeled by responsibility, went first. Cardon crawled after him, followed by a couple of the boys.
Passing through it to the other end, Prestonby unlocked a door, and they went down a short hall, to where ten or fifteen boys and girls had just gotten off a helical escalator and were queued up at a door at the other end. There were two Literate guards in black leather, and a student-monitor, with his white belt and rubber truncheon, outside the door. Prestonby swore under his breath.
"But not as suicidal as splitting the Fraternities and trying to follow two policies simultaneously. I wonder if I could put a call through to Literates' Hall without some of these picture-readers overhearing me." "You've been out of touch, down in the cellar, Russ." Prestonby told him. "Our telephone line's cut, and the radio is smashed."
How's her credit?" Claire handed Prestonby a black-bound book. "Confidential credit-rating guide; look her up for us," she said. Another buzzer rasped, before Prestonby could find the entry on Zydanowycz, H. Armytage; the Illiterate office worker, laying down one phone, grabbed up another.
"Yes. It didn't take us as long to clean up this mess as it did to clean up that mutinous guards company in Pittsburgh. But when we cleaned that up, it stayed cleaned. This is like trying to bail out a boat with a pitchfork." "Yeah. I wish we'dda stayed in Pittsburgh, captain. I wish we'd never seen this place!" "So do I!" Prestonby agreed, heartily. No, he didn't, either.
Prestonby, beside him, had a heavy sono gun; he kept it trained on the head of the escalator and held the trigger back until it was empty, then slapped in a fresh clip of the small blank cartridges which produced the sound waves that were amplified and altered to stunning vibrations. Still, many of the attackers got through. More were dropping down the lift-platform shaft.
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