Mark was puzzled. "What's that?"
"It's an old-fashioned food," said Conley. "Rather tasty too."
"Please sit down," Penelope begged, "and tell us more."
Conley looked at his watch. "Believe I will. My feet get a little tired all day from pounding the pavement. But there isn't much more to tell. You'll find out everything tomorrow. And I'm sure you'll like it. We try to give each person work to challenge him."
"What if a person wouldn't want to go to Central?"
"Very few ever object. Once in a while they are afraid and run away, but we just register their number with all the machines, and whenever that number is presented for food or clothes, the machines reject the card." He paused. "A very neat arrangement. Of course, inside of Central the point system as you know it now will be of no value whatever. We use money in Central."
Penelope had a can of synthetic meat in her hands. "Beef!" she said suddenly, and hurled the can into the disintichute. "I'm going to starve all night so I can enjoy eating tomorrow."
"So nobody ever gets away?" asked Mark.
"Very seldom, though there's one fellow playing a game with Central. He must have gotten wind of us, and he keeps careful check on his points. About once every three months he starts going strong. He'll be putting in eight or ten thousand points a day. Then his balance will shoot up over a hundred thousand and I'll go after him, but he's always just signed away a lot of points. Would you believe it, the last time he had given away fifty thousand points to a fellow who claimed a broken back. He said he knew it was a phony, but he had me there and he laughed at me, for he had signed away the points. The slip showed up next day."
Mark looked at Penelope and grinned. "We should have known that nobody in his right mind would give away fifty thousand points."