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Courane's face, but she saw only bitterness there. Rachel shook her head. "I love those little animals, the ones that hop like frogs but look kind of like chipmunks. The yellow fuzzy things."
    "I do, too," said Courane.
    "What are they called?"
    "There isn't a name for them. Why don't you think of one?"
    Rachel laughed. Courane stood up and helped her to her feet. Together they walked back to the house. Courane was glad the conversation had turned away from unpleasantness.
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    On Earth it was early January in the year 7 YT. "YT" originally meant the "Year of Tom," the last of the Representatives, but since T was also the first letter of TECT, no one felt the need to change calendars again upon Tom's retirement. When Courane arrived on Planet D, it was the middle of the local summer, July of the year 124. He was happy, in a way; his exile enabled him to bypass the rest of the Asian winter and walk through a portal into summer. On his first day on the farm, this minor advantage was the only one that presented itself. Courane waited skeptically for the self-esteem and satisfaction that TECT had promised. He decided to relax in the main parlor, and made himself comfortable while he waited.
    He was alone for a good part of the day. There were no electronic entertainment devices, of course, and no one had been permitted to bring books or fiche with them. Courane sat and looked at the wood-paneled walls in growing boredom. The house's tect was tied directly into TECT's main and subsidiary memory units, but Courane hadn't learned that yet. He could have summoned up any of the resources available to anyone on Earth, but instead he sat and waited, afraid to violate any strange local customs or practices. If he was expected anywhere or if he was required to do anything, he was sure someone would tell him. And if the house rules forbade anyone telling him, he hoped someone would let him know about that. In any event, the safest thing seemed to be just to hang around, to be available until he was given a definite role to play.
    After a long while, Molly came into the parlor. "Have you been sitting here all this time?" she asked.
    "Yes," said Courane.
    "How monotonous. I guess everyone else is busy. I hope I'm not the one assigned to show you around; I've got much too much to do. If it were my job, though, I'd remember it." Her face became suddenly serious. "I think I'd remember it," she said softly. "I'll be right back."
    "No need on my account," said Courane. He just wanted something to eat.
    A few minutes later, she returned. She smiled. "I was right, it isn't me. Sheldon is supposed to give you the tour. Have you met Sheldon?"
    "The tall man? Bald? From some place in North America? I met him briefly. He said he'd be around to take me upstairs. That was hours ago."
    "Ah, well. This is a busy working farm. We'll try to fit you into the routine as quickly and smoothly as we can. We really need you. We have four people in the infirmary and we haven't had anyone sent in a long time."
    "How often do you get new recruits?" asked Courane.
    "Oh, I'd guess about every couple of months. Our months, not Earth months." The farm's year was divided into fifteen months, each with about thirty-five days. Courane would have to get used to the planet's seasons. The winter was harder, the summer was milder, and spring and fall didn't seem to last very long at all.
    "Are all your new people like me?"
    "Like you?" she asked, not understanding what he meant.
    "Misfit types, eliminated by TECT."
    Molly looked away. "One thing—what was your name?"
    "Call me Sandy."
    She smiled again. "All right, Sandy. The first thing you learn is that you never pry into anyone else's past. If someone wants to talk about it, fine, but you don't ask. Do you understand?"
    Sure.
    "Number two. We haven't been eliminated. The word we like to use is 'excarcerated.' We made it up, and it's a nice-sounding substitute for 'exiled' and we know it. But that's the word we use