The king paused and wondered where to go next. He decided he’d walk around the city limits for a while and then head back into the center via a different route so he could see some other parts of the city. The little crowd moved after him.

Until now the king had been enjoying being out in the city, getting a feel for the rhythms of ordinary life. But as he looked through another window and saw another pair of citizens sitting at a table, something troubled him. The silence of the suburbs troubled him. The idea of what the city would be like after that longed-for day of completion troubled him.

He felt like he was missing something very important.

Then one member of the small crowd broke away from the rest and raced toward the king, who failed to react before the man clubbed him over the head with a mallet, beating him to the ground.

6

AS IONA PASSED PEOPLE in the street on her way home she vaguely noticed they seemed troubled, panicky even—something had happened and it was causing alarm. But she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to ask about it, or even to speculate. Maybe another building had burned down. She felt surprised by how little she cared. Right now all she cared about was getting home. She hurried along, avoiding eye contact with everyone she passed.

Iona entered her house, closed the door, and put the instruction manual she’d stolen from Victor’s home on her table. She unfolded and flattened it and studied the steps again, over and over. She spent a long time doing this—she lost track of how long. Slowly it became clear what they were telling her to do. It seemed insane yet the bright, clear presentation was so lucid, professional, official—boring, almost.

She wondered if she had the nerve to carry out the instructions.

A knock resounded through Iona’s house. Nervously she hid the manual in a kitchen cupboard, then she went to answer the door.

* * *

The king woke up, remembered what had happened, and cried out in alarm.

“Calm down, Your Highness,” said an attendant—a rather shapely female one. She laid a hand on his shoulder and gently eased him back down into his bed.

Bed. He was in bed, and everything was fine, and his shutters were closed, and nobody was trying to attack him. Still, he started in surprise when Clarence jumped onto the bed.

“How are you feeling?” asked Clarence.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” said the king. “Someone hit me on the head with a bloody mallet.”

“I did advise you against going outside.”

“You told me the citizens love me!” The king put a hand to his head and for the first time registered the presence of a bandage. He winced.

“Your Highness, there’s always some discontent—but it cannot be cured by going among the people. You merely put yourself at risk.”

“Why is anyone discontented? We give them everything they need. Everyone’s got a job, everyone’s got a home—what else am I supposed to do?”