Pepper looked around in despair, leaped back into the hall and pushed against the next door. It was locked. A testy voice inquired:
"Who's there?" "I have to get out!" shouted Pepper. "Where's the exit here?"
"Just a moment."
Behind the door came noises, the splash of water, the clatter of boxes being moved. The voice said:
"What do you want?"
"To get out! I must get out!"
"Right away."
A key scraped and the door opened. It was dark inside.
"Come through," said the voice.
It smelled of fumigation. Pepper put his hands up in front of him and essayed several uncertain steps.
"I can't see a thing," he said.
"You'll get used to it in a minute," the voice assured. "Well, come on, why've you stopped?"
Pepper was taken by the sleeve and led on.
"Sign here," said the voice.
A pencil appeared in Pepper's fingers. Now he perceived in the darkness the vague whiteness of paper.
"Have you signed?"
"No. What am I signing?"
"Don't you be afraid, it isn't a death sentence. Sign that you haven't seen anything."
Pepper signed anywhere. He was seized firmly by the sleeve again and propelled between some door curtains, then the voice asked:
"Are there a lot of you here?"
"Four," came from behind the door apparently.
"Is there a line formed? Bear in mind I'm opening the door now and letting a person out. Move up one, don't push and no funny remarks. That clear?" "All right. Not the first time." "Nobody's forgotten his clothes?" "Nobody, nobody. Let him out." The key scraped again. Pepper was almost blinded by the bright light and he was pushed out. Still not opening his eyes properly, he reeled down some steps and only then realized that he was in the Directorate's inner courtyard. Peevish voices were shouting:
"Come on now, Pepper! Get a move on! How long are we supposed to wait?"
In the middle of the yard stood a truck, packed with Scientific Security personnel. Kim was looking out of the cab and gesturing angrily. Pepper ran up to the truck and scrambled aboard, they tugged at him, lifted him and dumped him on the bottom of the truck. The vehicle revved up at once, gave a jerk, somebody stood on Pepper's hand, somebody else gaily sat on him, everyone started up singing and laughing, and they set off.
"Peppy, here's your suitcase," said somebody. "Is it true you're leaving, Pepper?" "Care for a cigarette, Monsieur Pepper?" Pepper lit up, seated himself on his case and turned up his jacket collar. Someone gave him a raincoat;
Pepper smiled his thanks and wrapped himself up in it. The truck sped on faster and faster and although it was a hot day, the head wind seemed savagely penetrating. Pepper smoked, concealing the cigarette in his fist and gazed about him. I'm on my way, he thought, I'm on my way. This is the last time I'll see you, wall. Last time I'll see you, cottages. Good-bye scrap-heap, I left my galoshes here somewhere. Good-bye pool, good-bye chess, good-bye yogurt. It's so marvelous, so easy! I'll never drink yogurt in my life again. Never will I sit down to a chess board..."
The personnel, crowded up near the cab, clutching one another and huddling behind each other from the wind, conversed on abstract subjects.
"It's been worked out, and I've worked it out. If it goes on like this, in a hundred years there'll be ten scientists for every square yard, and the total mass will cause the cliff to collapse. So much transport for food and water delivery will be needed, they'll have to have a continuous transport service between the Mainland and the Directorate; the trucks will go at twenty-five miles an hour, one yard apart, and be unloaded on the move... No, I'm absolutely certain the top people are considering regulating the recruitment of new personnel. Well now, judge for yourselves: the hotel warden - you can't have the likes of that, seven and one more arriving. All healthy. Hausbotcher thinks something should be done about it. No, not sterilization, necessarily, as he suggests..."
"Hausbotcher is the last person who should suggest that."
"That's why I say, not necessarily sterilization."
"They say the annual holidays are being extended to six months."
They went by the park, and Pepper suddenly realized that the truck was going in the wrong direction. They'd be out of the gates soon and descend by way of the hairpins to the foot of the cliff.
"Here listen, where are we going?" he asked, alarmed.
"What d'you mean - where? To get paid."
"Not to the Mainland?"
"Why on earth should we? The cashier's arrived at the biostation."
"You mean you're going to the biostation, the forest."
"Well of course. We're Science Security and get paid at the biostation."
"And what about me?" asked Pepper in bewilderment.
"You'll be paid as well. You're due for a bonus... Incidentally, everybody got his papers?"
The men fussed about, extracting from their pockets stamped papers of assorted shapes and colors. These they examined intently.
"Pepper, did you fill the questionnaire in?"
"What questionnaire?"
"Pardon me, but what a question! Form number eighty-four."
