computer console set in a black plexiglass case. He looked around again and
realized that they must be in the center of the room, because all the units
seemed to branch from this location.
"Your social security number, Mr Nadab?" Thayer waited expectantly.
His terror returned with sudden, startling force and Roger remained silent,
incapable of speech even had he wanted to try. Thayer glanced at him in
annoyance then nodded at the guard, who reached a hand into his jacket and drew
out a notebook. This he handed to Thayer, and after quickly referring to a page
inside, the Director was tapping the needed number into the keyboard. Roger
watched with dread as each digit of his social security number appeared on the
screen and Thayer pressed a key labeled LOCATE. The computer made a soft
whirring sound for perhaps ten seconds, then the noise stopped and the screen
went dark.
Behind the men a chain reaction of whispering noises began and the trio turned
and watched as case after case of videotapes shifted smoothly along the tracks
in the floor moving on nearly invisible wheels. The scene reminded Roger of
those tiny plastic number puzzles that had once been sold in vending machines in
restrooms, where the person struggled to put the numbers in order by pushing the
little squares around. The movement seemed to drag on impossibly but Roger
realized it was only apprehension causing his mind to turn each minute into a
quarter hour.
The shifting stopped abruptly and Roger realized with surprise that to his left
a whole new corridor had been created within the maze of shelves. It stretched
away into what would have been blackness had not a single videotape at its end
pulsed with horrid red light. Thayer strolled down the new passageway and Roger
and the guard followed; with each footfall Roger's foreboding built until his
stomach was a churning bowl of acid and his legs were weak and barely
cooperative. By the time he watched Virgil Thayer pluck the tape from its
highlighted slot, Roger was almost stumbling. The trip back was even worse.
Thayer and the guard had to each take an arm to get him through the CUTTING ROOM
door.
"Your little newspaper was quite an interesting read, Mr Nadab."
Roger was recovering on an uncomfortable wooden chair, much like the ones on
which his students spent most of their days. The chair was facing a steel desk
painted institutional gray, and behind it Director Thayer sat on a likewise gray
chair. Behind Thayer rose an entire wall of dials and knobs, slots and blinking
multi-colored lights with digital counters. In the midst of it all was a large
television screen, now dark. "You have some very... pointed opinions about the
New Age Commonwealth and its Administration. As I recall you used the word
'censorship' quite frequently."
"Yes!" In spite of his fear, the old outrage took over and the word blurted from
Roger's mouth. "You have no right╨╨"
Thayer held up a hand, stopping him. "I am not here to debate the policies of
the Administration with you, nor to persuade you that the Commonwealth's
methodologies are correct. I'm quite sure that in a short while you will
convince yourself that our way is, if not to your liking, at least preferable."
From the pocket of his suit jacket Thayer produced the videotape he had taken
