How could you know a truth? How could you spot an untruth?
There was no way to know, of course—not yet was there a way to know the truth. Knowledge could be judged by other knowledge, and he had but little knowledge—more than anyone within the ship had had for years, yet still so little knowledge. For somewhere, he knew, there must be an explanation for the stars and for the planets that circled around the stars and for the space in which the stars were placed—and for the ship that sped between the stars. The Letter had said purpose and it had said destination and those were the two things he must know —the purpose and the destination.
He put the cap back in its place and went out of the vault and locked the door behind him and he walked with a slightly surer stride, but still with the sense of guilt riding on his shoulders. For now he had broken not only the spirit, but the letter of the law—he was breaking the law for a reason and he suspected that the reason and the purpose would wipe out the law.
He went down the long flights of the escalator stairs to the lower levels.
He found Joe in the lounge, staring at the chess board with the pieces set and ready.
"Where have you been?" asked Joe. "I've been waiting for you."
"Just around," said Jon.
"This is three days," said Joe, "you've been just around."
He looked at Jon quizzically.
"Remember the hell we used to raise?" he asked. "The stealing and the tricks?"