"I have never been told why or how I came here. You said you would tell me that."
"I have never been told myself. It is a matter known to the men who handled it."
"If I went to them, surely they could find some way to let me stay?"
"No," he said coldly, "the thing was as definite as every event that takes place here. We do not let things happen haphazardly. We do not alter what has been arranged. And even if it were possible to let you stay—which I am inclined to doubt—they would not permit it."
"Why not?" I asked dully.
"Because there is no place for you. Our social system has been planned for hundreds of years ahead. Every individual of today and every individual of the next six generations has his definite place, his program, his work to do. There is no place for you. It is impossible to fit you in, for you have no work, no training, no need that you can fill. You have no woman, and there are no women for your children or your children's children. You are unnecessary. To fit you in, one would have to disrupt the whole system for generations ahead. It is impossible."
I thought a moment, hopelessly.
"If I made a place?" I suggested. "Suppose I took someone else's place?" He smiled, a faint, cold smile.
"Murder? It is impossible. You are always under the control of the Bureau in some way, whether you are aware of it or not."