"Tell me, Councilman, what happened to the offer to release me from this phony Dream? Now you are talking as if this world was the real one."
Coleman parted his lips, but then the planes of his face shifted into another pattern. "You never believed me."
"Almost, but not quite. You knew I was on the narrow edge in this kind of job, but I'm not as far out as you seemed to have thought."
"I can still wreck your career, you know."
"I don't think so. That would constitute a misuse of authority, and the next time you turn up before me, I'm going to give you life in Dreamland."
Coleman sat back down suddenly.
"You don't want life as a Sleeper, do you?" I pursued. "You did want a relatively short sentence of a few months or a few years. I can think of two reasons why. The answer is probably a combination of both. In the first place, you are a joy-popper with Dreams—you don't want to live out your life in one, but you like a brief Dream every few years like an occasional dose of a narcotic. In the second place, you probably have political reasons for wanting to hide out somewhere in safety for the next few years. The world isn't as placid as the newscasts sometimes make it seem."
He didn't say anything. I didn't think he had to.
"You wanted to make sure I made a painfully scrupulous decision in your case," I went on. "You didn't want me to pardon you completely because of your high position, but at the same time you didn't want too long a sentence. But I'm doing you no favors. You get no time from me, Coleman."