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giving power and official status to the latter. Within a month the merger was completed—except that the Sect had their own ideas of what “integrate” meant. By then, all the security police were also reliable Sect members… .
    So Cleo and Galin might smile at each other, but there was fear in her eyes as his gaze, unsoftened by his facial expression, bored deep into her, stirring that fear.
    “Ah, dear lady!” He bowed very slightly, his manner theatrical, his words banal, but the sinister undertone made him anything but a figure of fun. “What a truly glorious day!” He looked away from her to the brilliant sun beyond the entrance hall. “Glorious. Glorious.”
    “Yes,” said Cleo, forcing herself to speak. “I’m off to the beach.” He looked again at her, nodding gently. “Of course, your beautiful child. How wonderful to be a child—in all things.”
    “Yes,” said Cleo again. Experience had taught her that “wonderful,” “glorious,” and “beautiful” were all okay Sect words. When Galin said it was a “glorious” day, implicit in his words was the rider: “glorious, because we enjoy all this through our Master.” Cleo shivered as she hurried on, uncomfortably aware that Galin would watch her until she was out of sight.
    Still, in whatever sense the poisonous man used the word, it was a glorious day. Quickly she changed into a swimsuit and wrap, put a few things including a radio into her basket, and went down the winding path which led to the Forbins’ private beach.
    At this time of year, before the supercomputer took over the island, the beach would have been crammed with holidaymakers. People of all ages would have been taking a traditional British seaside vacation: the older ones dozing in deckchairs; the youngsters paddling, splashing, eating ice cream; teen-agers horsing around, tentatively paddling in the sexual shallows.
    Not for the first time had this occurred to Cleo as she chose a spot to sunbathe. To have the entire beach to herself made her feel guilty. She wondered what had happened to all those people, amazed that there had been so little protest. Would the clearance of, say Miami, raise so little argument? Backed by the authority of Colossus, Yes. Cleo sighed. It was senseless to go over it all again; might as well enjoy it. At least she had the illusion that, as one of the Fellowship, she was doing her best to find some end to the nightmare. But was that all it was—an illusion? What possible chance had the Fellowship? Very true, answered the other side of her mind, but if we, those closest to Colossus, don’t try, what hope is there?
    All these thoughts vanished when the nurse arrived with young Billy. After admonishing the child to be “a guid bairn” and checking that his mother was moderately competent to look after her own child for an hour or so, she left.
    For ten, fifteen minutes mother and child played, and Cleo, lost in that most powerful, secret relationship, forgot all about Colossus, the Sect, and Galin.
    The happiness her child brought her was still in her eyes when young Billy toddled off to new and exciting pursuits in a nearby rock pool. His mother spread her towel and lay down, radio on, basking sensuously in the hot sun, stretching her long limbs, relaxing.
    She half-shut her eyes, vaguely aware of the redness of her eyelids in the strong sunlight, the strange magnification of her eyelashes… . Lazily, she thought about putting on suntan oil, and—and then—what? Drunk, drowsy with sun, her mind drifted, dimly aware of the soft sound of the sea, the music on the radio… .
    Every now and then she glanced across to young Billy. He didn’t need sun lotion. For perhaps the ten thousandth time she inspected his sturdy legs, good arms… . Yes, there was much to be thankful for; even to a less biased eye he was a fine child; beautiful… .
    The word struck like the first chill gust of an approaching squall, matting the smooth water, herald of the