They had kept the news of the general's strokes a secret, of course, known only to the innermost circle of the Corps. Not even the highest leaders of the other New Morality groups knew about it. To the outside world, General O'Conner was still the vigorous, forceful, charismatic leader of the organization that was transforming American cities from crime-ridden slums into rigidly controlled urban centers.

With the staff's careful handling of the crisis, General O'Conner had become an inaccessible figure, too lofty to waste his time with meetings and rallies. And the more inaccessible he became, the greater the tales of his power and saintliness. The less he was seen, the more he was admired and sought after. Rumors abounded of his appearances in disguise among the poor. He was'seen' all across the country, sometimes in more than one place simultaneously. Thanks to clever electronic simulations that kept his image before the public, the general was becoming a figure of mythic power.

"Well, what're you waiting for?" General O'Conner said, in his cranky slurred croak of a voice.

"I thought you had fallen asleep," said Killifer, going to the armchair beside him.

The general worked the toggle on his wheelchair's control box and trundled off toward the windows. "Is the whole city blacked out, except for us?"

Killifer had to get up and follow him. "Most of the city," he replied. "When curfew strikes, the power goes down. Electricity stays on for residences, of course."

"Apartments, too? Condos?"

"Yeah. It wouldn't be smart to shut off their power."

"Then why's everything pitch black out there?" the general demanded. "Are we the only ones showing any light?"

Killifer had explained this to the failing old man a dozen times since the blackout decision had been announced.

"That's right, we're the only one," he said. "The apartment blocks and condo buildings curtain their windows as a sign of respect."

The wizened old man glared at him. "And whose idea was that?"

"Yours, of course," he said.

"I never made such a decision. I'd remember it if I did."

"Well," said Killifer, "it was mine, really. Acting in your name, of course."

Actually, it had been the bright idea of one of the young psychologists on the staff. But Killifer had implemented it and he'd be damned if he'd let the young snot take the credit.

"Why?" O'Conner asked testily.

Killifer replied, "It gives the ordinary people the feeling that they're making a sacrifice. It makes them feel that they're contributing to the general welfare."

"You've learned well," rasped O'Conner. "Make them want to obey. That's the secret!"

"You've taught me well," Killifer said, feeling something almost like affection for the old man.

Wheeling his chair around to face Killifer, General O'Conner said, "Now what's happening with the Moonbase problem?"

Killifer shook his head. "It's getting worse instead of better."

"I see they're broadcasting news reports from Moonbase. I thought the media had agreed to a blackout."

"They had. But it's been busted wide open."