And the class chanted: “Eliminate the Larynx.”

Powell winced and moved on. The wall opposite the kindergarten was covered by a gold plaque on which was engraved the sacred words of the Esper Pledge:

I will look upon him who shall have taught me this Art as one of my parents. I will share my substance with him, and I will supply his necessities if he be in need. I will regard his offspring even as my own brethren and I will teach them this Art by precept, by lecture, and by every mode of teaching; and I will teach this Art to all others. The regimen I adopt shall be for the benefit of mankind according to my ability and judgment, and not for hurt or wrong. I will give no deadly thought to any, though it be asked of me.

Whatsoever mind I enter, there will I go for the benefit of man, refraining from all wrong-doing and corruption. Whatsoever thoughts I see or hear in the mind of man which ought not to be made known, I will keep silence thereon, counting such things to be as sacred secrets.

In the lecture hall, a class of 3^rds was earnestly weaving simple basket patterns while they discussed current events. There was one little overdue 2^nd, a twelve-year-old, who was adding zig-zag ad libs to the dull discussion and peaking every zig with a spoken word. The words rhymed and were barbed comments on the speakers. It was amusing and amazingly precocious.

Powell found the president’s suite in an uproar. All the office doors were open, and clerks and secretaries were scurrying. Old T’sung H’sai, the president, a portly mandarin with shaven skull and benign features, stood in the center of his office and raged. He was so angry he was shouting, and the shock of the articulated words made his staff shake.

“I don’t care what the scoundrels call themselves,” T’sung H’sai roared. “They’re a gang of selfish, self-seeking reactionaries. Talk to me about purity of the race, will they? Talk to me about aristocracy, will they? I’ll talk to them. I’ll fill their ears. Miss Prinn! Miss Pr-i-nnnnn!”

Miss Prinn crept into T’sung’s office, horrified at the prospect of oral dictation.

“Take a letter to these devils. To the League of Esper Patriots. Gentlemen… Good morning, Powell. Haven’t seen you in eons… How’s Dishonest Abe? The organized campaign of your clique to cut down Guild Taxation and appropriations for the education of Espers and the dissemination of Esper training to mankind is conceived in a spirit of treachery and fascism. Paragraph…”

T’sung wrenched himself from his diatribe and winked profoundly at Powell. “And have you found the peeper of your dreams yet?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Confound you, Powell. Get married!” T’sung bellowed. “I don’t want to be stuck with this job forever. Paragraph, Miss Prinn: You speak of the hardships of taxation, of preserving the aristocracy of Espers, of the unsuitability of the average man for Esper training… What do you want, Powell?”