He laughed unsteadily and led her by the arm through the deserted
streets.
V
Citizen Germyn, as was his right by position and status as a
connoisseur, helped prepare Citizen Boyne for his Donation. There
was nothing much to it--which made it an elaborate and lengthy task,
according to the ethic of the Citizens; it had to be protracted, each
step being surrounded by fullest dress of ritual.
It was done in the broad daylight of the new Sun, and as many of the
three hundred citizens of Wheeling as could manage it were in the
courtyard of the old Federal Building to watch.
The nature of the ceremony was this: A man who revealed himself Wolf,
or who finally crumbled under the demands of life and ran amok, could
not be allowed to live. He was hauled before an audience of his equals
and permitted--with the help of regretful force, if that should be
necessary, but preferably not--to make the Donation of Spinal Fluid.
Execution was murder and murder was not permitted under the gentle code
of Citizens; this was not execution. The draining of a man's spinal
fluid did not kill him. It only insured that, after a time and with
much suffering, his internal chemistry would so arrange itself that it
would continue to function, only not in a way that would sustain life.
Once the Donation was made, the problem was completely altered, of
course. Suffering was bad in itself. To save the Donor from the
suffering that lay ahead, it was the custom to have the oldest and
gentlest Citizen on hand stand by with a sharp-edged knife. When the
Donation was complete, the Donor's head was removed--purely to avert
suffering. That was not execution, either, but only the hastening of an
inevitable end.
The dozen or so Citizens whose rank permitted them to assist then
dissolved the spinal fluids in water and ceremoniously sipped them, at
which time it was proper to offer a small poem in commentary. All in
all, it was a perfectly splendid opportunity for the purest form of
meditation for everyone concerned.
Citizen Germyn, whose role was Catheter Bearer, took his place behind
the Introducer Bearer, the Annunciators and the Questioner of Purpose.
As he passed Citizen Boyne, Germyn assisted him to assume the proper
crouched-over position. Boyne looked up gratefully and Germyn found
the occasion correct for a commendatory half-smile.
The Questioner of Purpose said solemnly to Boyne: "It is your privilege
to make a Donation here today. Do you wish to do so?"
"I do," said Boyne raptly. The anxiety had passed; clearly he was
confident of making a good Donation. Germyn approved with all his heart.
The Annunciators, in alternate stanzas, announced the right pause for
meditation to the meager crowd, and all fell silent. Citizen Germyn
began the process of blanking out his mind, to ready himself for the
great opportunity to Appreciate that lay ahead. A sound distracted
him; he glanced up irritably. It seemed to come from the House of the
Five Regulations, a man's voice, carrying. But no one else appeared to
notice it. All of the watchers, all of those on the stone steps, were
in somber meditation.
Germyn tried to return his thoughts to where they belonged.
But something was troubling him. He had caught a glimpse of the Donor
and there had been something--something--
He angrily permitted himself to look up once more to see just what it
had been about Citizen Boyne that had attracted his attention.
Yes, there _was_ something. Over the form of Citizen Boyne, silent,
barely visible, a flicker of life and motion. Nothing tangible. It was
as if the air itself were in motion.
It was, Germyn thought with a bursting heart--it was an Eye!
The veritable miracle of Translation and it was about to take place
here and now, upon the person of Citizen Boyne! And no one knew it but
Germyn himself!
* * * * *
In this last surmise, Citizen Germyn was wrong. Or was he? True, no
other human eyes saw the flawed-glass thing that twisted the air over
Boyne's prostrate body, but there was, in a sense, another witness ...
some thousands of miles away.