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hands, in their metal wristlets, on my thighs.
    I looked up at him, and then put down my head again.
    "I am not to be shown mercy, am I?" I whispered.
    "Not in the sense I suspect you have in mind," he said. "On the other hand, if you prove superb, truly superb, you might eventually be shown a certain mercy at least in the sense of being permitted to live.”
    I shuddered.
    "Position," he said, gently.
    I struggled back to the position which I had originally held.
    How stupid I felt. How stupid I had been!
    I was merely one on a chain. I had not been brought here, doubtless at some trouble and expense, to be shown mercy.
    How could I have acted as I did? I was stupid.
    I hoped I was not stupid.
    I hoped that he did not think I was stupid.
    Once again I felt his eyes upon me. Once again, I was being subjected to that calm, appraising scrutiny which had, but a moment before, so unnerved me.
    "Please," I begged him.
    He seemed to be regarding me as might one who is practiced in such appraisals, one who, in effect, might be noting points. But surely I should not be looked at in such a way. Surely only an animal might be looked at in such a way. But surely I was not an animal!
    My hands crept up from my sides, that I might, however inadequately, cover myself.
    "No," he said, gently.
    His tone, in its kindliness, its patience, suggested that he did not think me stupid, in spite of my earlier outburst. This, for some reason, gladdened me.
    Then I knelt as I had before, tears coursing down my cheeks, open, exposed, to his scrutiny.
    It was thus that he would have me before him, and thus it was that I would be before him.
    Before men such as these I understood that I would be choice-less in such matters.
    "You are supposedly quite vital," he said. "Is it true?”
    "I do not know," I said. I did not even understand the question. Or, perhaps, rather, I somehow, in some part of me, understood it only too well.
    Would he now think me stupid? I hoped not. I did not think I was stupid.
    He then continued his scrutiny.
    Somehow I wanted, desperately, doubtless dreadfully, for him to be pleased, genuinely pleased, with what he saw.
    Was I "vital"? What could that possibly mean? How would I know if I were vital or not? Had he touched me, I think I would have cried out, in helplessness.
    I could not help it if I was vital! It was not my fault! I could not help it!
    And at that time, of course, I did not understand now such things could be brought about, even in those initially inert or anesthetic, how such things could be, and would be, suspected, discovered, revealed, and released, and then nurtured, and enhanced, and developed and trained, until they, beginning as perhaps no more than almost unfocused restlessnesses, could, and would, become fervent, soft, insistent claims, and then, in time, implacably, inexorably, desperate, irresistible, pitiless needs, needs overriding and overwhelming, needs over which one had no control, needs in whose chains one is utterly helpless.
    I knelt there, then, as they would have me kneel. No longer did I dare to look at him. I kept my head down. Then, in a moment, he had apparently finished his examination, or, I feared, assessment. I did not know what might have been the results of his examination. He said something to another fellow. I did not know whether or not I was the subject of their discourse.
    Their tones, on the other hand, seemed approving. Both seemed pleased.
    To be sure, I did not know for certain whether or not I was the subject of their discourse.
    But it seemed to me likely that I was.
    I suspected then, if I was not mistaken, to my unspeakable relief, that I might have been found at least initially acceptable.
    I hoped that he who was nearest to me did not think I was stupid.
    I did not want him to think that.
    I was supposedly intelligent. I was, or had been, a good student. To be sure, the learning for which I might be held accountable here, if such learning there was to be, would