"My dear girl," Lloyd protested, really growing concerned for her, "do you realize the odds against meeting a hospital patient? With disease almost completely obliterated, and a civilization of ten million people—!"
"Exactly," said the girl, with a peculiar note of triumph. "Ten million people. Never so much more as ten million and one, and seldom any less. Doesn't that perturb you?"
"The wars—" Lloyd began.
"Please," the girl groaned, shaking her head. "Spare me the enlistment speeches. I know the tales of all the men lost in the battles every quarter, giving their lives in defense of the Hive. Except that there aren't any wars, nor battles, any more! There's nothing out on the planet except wild animals and growing plants! We're the only ten million people on Earth!"
"That's impossible," said Lloyd. "It's childish to be so insular-minded. Our Hive is one of ten thousand such—"
"Have you seen another, even one other?"
"For what?" said Lloyd. "All the Hives are alike."
"They've really got you brain-washed, haven't they! You believe everything the Brain dictates, without question!"
"I have to," said Lloyd, with what he thought was irrefutable logic. "There's no way of checking things like—Well, like your story of no wars. I mean, can I be expected to check out ten million people to see if the number of war dead coincides with the total in the Brain?"
"No," said the girl. "You can't. Not so long as your movements are restricted to certain sectors, and you're told which street to use, which side of the street, which direction to walk, which hand to turn the knob with, which—"