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indomitable Reinhard had lashed out unceasingly against his father.
    “You sold my sister!” he cried.
    The next morning, when Kircheis went over on the pretext of asking Reinhard to walk to school with him, Annerose had said with a gentle, sad smile, “My brother can’t go to school with you anymore. I know it was just for a short time, but thank you for being his friend.”
    Then the beautiful young girl had kissed him on his forehead and given him a homemade chocolate torte. That day, the red-haired boy hadn’t gone to school. Instead, he had carefully carried the torte to a nature preserve, and, taking care not to be spotted by any patrol robots, had sat down in the shadow of some conifers—“Martian pines” they were called, for reasons no one knew—and there he had stayed for a long time, eating the torte. As he contemplated being separated from Annerose and Reinhard, tears had welled up in his eyes, and he had wiped them with his hands, leaving dark-brown stripes across his face.
    When it was dark, he had returned home, preparing himself for a scolding, but his parents had said nothing. The lights were out at the house next door.
    One month later, Reinhard had without warning come suddenly to visit, wearing the uniform of the Imperial Military Children’s Academy. The blond-haired boy had spoken to the shocked, thrilled Kircheis in the affected tones of an adult. “I’m going to be a soldier,” he had said. “It’s the fastest way to get ahead. And I have to get ahead in the world so I can set Annerose free. Kircheis, come to the same school as me, won’t you? They’re all louts at the Children’s Academy.”
    His parents were not opposed to the idea. Perhaps they had been hoping that their son would be able to get ahead in the world that way, or perhaps they had realized that their son had already been stolen away from them by the brother and sister from the house next door. At any rate, Kircheis made the decision in his youth that he would walk the same road as Reinhard.
    Most of the students at the Children’s Academy were the offspring of aristocrats, and the rest were all sons of eminent civilians. It was clear that Kircheis had only been admitted due to Reinhard’s earnest desire and Annerose’s intercession.
    Reinhard’s marks usually put him at the top of his class, and Kircheis also placed high. Not just for his own sake, but also for Reinhard and Annerose, he could not afford to let his grades slip.
    From time to time, the fathers and elder brothers of students would come to visit the school. All of them were aristocrats of high status, but Kircheis had no respect for them. He could smell the stench of men who had become arrogant in their privilege.
    “Look at them, Kircheis,” Reinhard would whisper. Whenever he saw such nobles, his voice filled with an intense hatred and scorn. “They didn’t get to be where they are today through any effort of their own … They inherited their authority and fortune from their fathers only by reason of blood, and they aren’t even ashamed of it. The universe does not exist to be dominated by such people.”
    “Reinhard …” Kircheis would begin.
    “It’s true, Kircheis! There’s not a shred of reason why you and I should have to stand downwind of their ilk.”
    This kind of conversation had passed between them not a few times, but on one occasion, Reinhard said something that gave his red-haired friend the shock of his life.
    They had just made a polite salute—a salute that was the sacred duty of all subjects of the empire—before one of the many statues of Emperor Rudolf that towered haughtily above every quarter of the capital. They dared not do otherwise, for the eyes of these statues were elaborate video cameras, and the Ministry of the Interior was ever watchful for dangerous elements who flouted imperial authority. It was after this salute that Reinhard began to speak passionately.
    “Kircheis, have you ever thought about this?