"What?" Lantry turned abruptly. "What did you say?"
"May I be of service?"
"I--that is--" Lantry looked quickly at the ramp and the door. His
hands trembled at his sides. "I've never been in here before."
"Never?" The Attendant was surprised.
That had been the wrong thing to say, Lantry realized. But it was said,
nevertheless. "I mean," he said. "Not really. I mean, when you're a
child, somehow, you don't pay attention. I suddenly realized tonight
that I didn't really _know_ the Incinerator."
The Attendant smiled. "We never know anything, do we, really? I'll be
glad to show you around."
"Oh, no. Never mind. It--it's a wonderful place."
"Yes, it is." The Attendant took pride in it. "One of the finest in the
world, I think."
"I--" Lantry felt he must explain further. "I haven't had many
relatives die on me since I was a child. In fact, none. So, you see I
haven't been here for many years."
"I see." The Attendant's face seemed to darken somewhat.
What've I said now, thought Lantry. What in God's name is wrong?
What've I done? If I'm not careful I'll get myself shoved right into
that damnable fire-trap. What's wrong with this fellow's face? He seems
to be giving me more than the usual going over.
"You wouldn't be one of the men who've just returned from Mars, would
you?" asked the Attendant.
"No. Why do you ask?"
"No matter." The Attendant began to walk off. "If you want to know
anything, just ask me."
"Just one thing," said Lantry.
"What's that?"
"This."
Lantry dealt him a stunning blow across the neck.
He had watched the fire-trap operator with expert eyes. Now, with the
sagging body in his arms, he touched the button that opened the warm
outer lock, placed the body in, heard the music rise, and saw the inner
lock open. The body shot out into the river of fire. The music softened.
"Well done, Lantry, well done."
* * * * *
Barely an instant later another Attendant entered the room. Lantry
was caught with an expression of pleased excitement on his face. The
Attendant looked around as if expecting to find someone, then he walked
toward Lantry. "May I help you?"
"Just looking," said Lantry.
"Rather late at night," said the Attendant.
"I couldn't sleep."
That was the wrong answer, too. Everybody slept in this world. Nobody
had insomnia. If you did you simply turned on a hypno-ray, and, sixty
seconds later, you were snoring. Oh, he was just _full_ of wrong
answers. First he had made the fatal error of saying he had never been
in the Incinerator before, when he knew damned well that all children
were brought here on tours, every year, from the time they were four,
to instill the idea of the clean fire death and the Incinerator in
their minds. Death was a bright fire, death was warmth and the sun. It
was not a dark, shadowed thing. That was important in their education.
And he, pale thoughtless fool, had immediately gabbled out his
ignorance.
And another thing, this paleness of his. He looked at his hands and
realized with growing terror that a pale man also was non-existent in
this world. They would suspect his paleness. That was why the first
attendant had asked, "Are you one of those men newly returned from
Mars?" Here, now, this new Attendant was clean and bright as a copper
penny, his cheeks red with health and energy. Lantry hid his pale hands
in his pockets. But he was fully aware of the searching the Attendant
did on his face.
"I mean to say," said Lantry. "I didn't _want_ to sleep. I wanted to
think."
"Was there a service held here a moment ago?" asked the Attendant,
looking about.
"I don't know, I just came in."
"I thought I heard the fire lock open and shut."
"I don't know," said Lantry.