Vanning pondered. He could understand that. The human heart-muscle is much stronger and tougher than—say—the biceps.
The girl broke into his thoughts. "Rebellion is quite useless. You won't believe that now, but you'll understand soon."
"Maybe," Vanning said tonelessly. "Anyhow—what's next on the program?"
"Slavery." Her voice was bitter. "Here are your clothes. When you're dressed, you'll find a ramp leading down outside the door. I'll be waiting." She detached a metal plaque from the wall and went out. Vanning, after a scowling pause, dressed and followed.
The corridor in which he found himself was of bare plastic, covered with a wavy bas-relief oddly reminiscent of water's ripples, and tinted azure and gray. Here and there cold lamps, using a principle unfamiliar to the man, were se
