"b—but why do these things have to be so secret?" ronnie asked.

"because of competitors, in the case of corporations—or because of enemy nations in the case of government work. the written material you might have access to could describe secret weapons and new processes or plans for next year's advertising—maybe even a scheme for, er, liquidation of a rival. if all facts and policies were made public, there might be criticism, controversy, opposition by certain groups. the less people know about things, the better. so we have to keep all these things secret."

ronnie scowled. "but if things are written down, someone has to read them, don't they?"

"sure, son. one person in ten thousand might reach the point where his corporation or bureau will teach him to read. but you prove your ability and loyalty first. by the time you're 35 or 40, they might want you to learn to read. but for young people and children—well, it just isn't done. why, the president himself wasn't trusted to learn till he was nearly fifty!"

dad straightened his shoulders. "look at me. i'm only 30, but i've been a messenger for secret material already. in a few years, if things go well, i should be handling top-secret stuff. and who knows? maybe by the time i'm 50 i'll be giving orders instead of carrying them. then i'll learn to read, too. that's the right way to do it."

ronnie shifted uncomfortably on the hassock. "but can't a reader get a job that's not so important. like a barber or a plumber or—"

"don't you understand? the barber and plumbing equipment corporations set up their stores and hire men to work for them. you think they'd hire a reader? people'd say you were a spy or a subversive or that you're crazy like old man davis."

"mr. davis isn't crazy. and he isn't old. he's young, just like you, and—"

"ronnie!"

dad's voice was knife-sharp and december-cold. ronnie slipped off the hassock as if struck physically by the fury of the voice. he sat sprawled on his small posterior, fresh fear etched on his thin features.

"damn it, son, how could you even think of being a reader? you've got a life-sized, 3-d video here, and we put on the smell and touch and heat attachments just for you. you can listen to any tape in the world at school. ronnie, don't you realize i'd lose my job if people knew i had a reader for a son?"

"b—but, daddy—"

dad jumped to his feet. "i hate to say it, edith, but we've got to put this boy in a reformatory. maybe a good memory-wash will take some of the nonsense out of him!"