The evening grew old, and with its aging came the insistence of various televised personalities that each product cavorting about the screen was undoubtedly the best possible, and anyone who didn't agree was most certainly an idiot of the most idiotic sort. Actually, since the government directed the manufacture of all commodities, it mattered little which product was bought, so long as they were bought. Finally—
"Time to go to bed," a grandfatherly individual intoned gently from the set. "Remember: to bed and to rise at a time not late, makes one healthy and wise for the Super State."
Arthur grimaced at the benign gentleman's countenance, but Helen set about pushing the buttons that would transform the room into a bedroom. Tables slid from sight, twin beds appeared, the lights dimmed.
They undressed in the dimness, without conversation, as they had these many years. It was as though they were separated by miles instead of only a few feet, each unaware of the other's presence.
"I'm going to grab a fast shower," he told her and headed for the shower stall. He heard her answering murmur, as he closed the door of the airtight cubicle. Fingers ran over the dials, and invisible rays caressed his naked body, cleansing it of impurities with swift silent radiation.
When he stepped once more into the main room, Helen was lying unmoving on her bed. The television set was blank, and an almost inaudible hypnotic hum came from it, soothing, compelling, lulling. He sat on the edge of the bed, listening in fascination to the sound. Slowly, it faded, slowly, slowly....
He caught himself starting to doze, and he sat upright on the bed straining to hear the evasive hum. He shook his head violently to clear it. He wondered how many persons were aware that the noise was actually a high-frequency voice-recording which in effect hypnotized persons into sleep, and then instilled into each one's subconsciousness a faith in the glories of the government. Yet even when you knew, it was difficult to resist.
Stealthily, he rose and dressed again in dark silence. He then made his way across the room to the shower stall, entered, closed the door securely. A manipulation of the dials, a soft pressure on a portion of one wall, and a section slid back to reveal a radio apparatus.
Arthur put the microphone to his lips, spoke swiftly into it, making contact. A furtive voice, crackled and staticky answered in code. Arthur gave his part of the ritual.