This was it. When he saw my four letter name he'd really start working
on me. I unsnapped the tag from my neck band and handed it to him.
He looked at it, but didn't change expression. The Deacons are
well-trained. He looked up again. "N/P, eh?"
"Yes."
"And you belong in Center Four."
"Yes."
"Explain."
I did. Or tried to. Things were roiling around inside me, keeping me
from thinking clearly. Once, as I talked, I thought I heard movement
under the bank, but the Deacons didn't seem to notice anything. I tried
to tell them of my troubles.
There was no sympathy in their eyes.