"Aha! You remember! And yet it was before you went to school, times, so to speak, a great deal further removed. Though less care-laden, eh, Pepper? So then. Tanks and armored cars it is... Next. At what age did women, brackets, men become attractive to you? The expression in brackets is addressed as a rule, to women. Go ahead and answer."
"A long time ago," said Pepper. "It was long, long ago."
"Exactly when?"
"What about you?" asked Pepper. "You say first, then I will."
The presider shrugged. "I've nothing to hide. The first time was when I was nine, when they bathed me and my female cousin together... Now you."
"I can't," said Pepper. "I don't wish to answer such questions."
"Idiot," somebody whispered in his ear. "Tell some lie with a straight face, and that's it. Why torment yourself? Who's going to check you?"
"All right," Pepper said submissively. "When I was ten. When they bathed me and Murka the dog together."
"Splendid!" exclaimed the presider. "Now list me all the diseases of the legs you've had."
"Rheumatism."
"What else?"
"Intermittent lameness."
"Very good. What else?"
"Cold," said Pepper.
"That's not a leg disease."
"I don't know. With you no, perhaps. With me it's the legs. My legs get wet - a cold."
"We-ll, let it pass. Anything else?"
"Isn't that enough?"
"As you wish. But I warn you: the more the better."
"Spontaneous gangrene," said Pepper. "Subsequent amputation. That was my last leg disease."
"That's enough then. Last question. Your world-view. Briefly."
"Materialist," Pepper said.
"What sort of a materialist exactly?"
"Emotional."
"I've no more questions. Any questions, gentlemen?"
There were no more questions. Some of the travelers were half-asleep, some were chatting with their backs to the presider. The truck was going slowly now. It was getting hot and the forest's damp and sharp unpleasant • smell was ever-present. The smell never reached the Directorate on normal days.
The truck rolled along with the engine switched off, and far far away could be heard the faint rumbling of a storm.
"I'm amazed, looking at you," said the secretary's assistant, also with his back to the presider. "It's unhealthy pessimism. Man is an optimist by nature, that's one thing. And the second and main thing is - surely you realize the director considers these matters as much as you do? It makes me laugh. In the last speech addressed to me, the director revealed majestic prospects. I caught my breath from sheer admiration, I'm not ashamed to admit. I always was an optimist, but that picture... If you want to know, everything's going to be cleared, all these rocks, cottages... Instead buildings of dazzling beauty will rise from transparent and semi-transparent materials, stadia, swimming-pools, aerial parks, crystal bars, and cafes. Stairways to the sky! Slender, swaying women with dark supple skin! Libraries! Muscles! Laboratories! Penetrated by sun and light! A free timetable! Cars, gliders, airships ... debates, hypnopaedia, stereo-cinema... After their working hours, the workers will sit in libraries, ponder, compose melodies, play guitars and other musical instruments, carve in wood, read poems to each other!"
"And what will you be doing?"
"I shall do wood-carving."
"What else?"
"I shall write poetry. They will teach me to write poetry. I have good handwriting."
"What will I do?"
"Whatever you like!" said the secretary's assistant magnanimously. "Carve wood, write poetry... Whatever you like."
"I don't want to carve wood. I'm a mathematician."
"Well all right! Do maths to your heart's content!"
"I do it now to my heart's content."
"Now you get paid for doing it. Silly. You'll jump from towers."
"Why?"
"There you go - why? It's interesting isn't it?"
"No."
"What are you trying to say, then? That apart from mathematics you're not interested in anything?"
"Well now, that's about right. After a day's work you're so fagged out that you take no interest in anything."
"You're just a narrow person. Never mind, you'll develop. You'll find you have some aptitudes, you'll be composing music, doing a bit of fretwork, or something..."
"Composing music isn't the trouble, it's finding an audience."
"Well, I'll listen to you with pleasure... Pepper here."
"You just think that. You won't do it though. You'll do a bit of fretwork then you'll be off to join the ladies. Or get drunk. I know you all right, I know everybody here. You'll shamble about from crystal bar to diamond cafeteria. Especially if work is optional. I'm afraid to think, even, what it'll be like if they make work optional here."
"Every man is a genius at something," retorted the assistant. "You've only to find what it is. We don't even suspect that I'm, say, a genius at cooking, you, perhaps, a pharmaceutical genius, but we have other jobs and find out little about ourselves. The director said specialists would be put on that, they'll bring to light our hidden potential..."
