Part 29 (2/2)
”I don't mind. What's that you got under your jacket, Mister? It bulges.”
”I'll ask the questions, Willis, if you don't mind.... Now, do you like school?”
”It's all right.”
”What courses do you take?”
”Well, there's reading and writing and status appreciation, and courses in art, music, architecture, literature, ballet, and theater. The usual stuff.”
”I see. That's in the open cla.s.ses?”
”Sure.”
”Do you also attend a closed cla.s.s?”
”Sure I do. Every day.”
”Do you mind talking about it?”
”I don't mind. Is that bulge a gun? I know what guns are. Some of the big boys were pa.s.sing around pictures at lunchtime a couple days ago and I peeked. Is it a gun?”
”No. My suit doesn't fit very well, that's all. Now then. Would you mind telling me what you do in the closed cla.s.s?”
”I don't mind.”
”What happens, then?”
”I don't remember.”
”Come now, Willis.”
”Really, Mr. Opinioner. We all go into this cla.s.sroom, and we come out two hours later for recess. But that's all. I can't remember anything else. I've talked with the other kids. They can't remember either.”
”Strange....”
”No, sir. If we were supposed to remember, it wouldn't be _closed_.”
”Perhaps so. Do you remember what the room looks like, or who your teacher is for the closed cla.s.s?”
”No, sir. I really don't remember anything at all about it.”
”Thank you. Willis.”
(_Citizen Cuchulain Dent, age 37, occupation inventor. A prematurely bald man with ironic, heavy-lidded eyes._)
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