"What's it for?"
"Young Farmers come here for training when they're five! At twenty-two, they're sterilized and go back to Joetropolis!"
I shuddered. "This perfect democracy is a bit harsh!"
"The people vote for Ordinances!"
"Farmers don't vote!"
"No, but their parents do! Suppose it is horrible!" Toal admitted.
Rasmussen turned to us, leaving the tractor to find its own way along the twisting road. He said, "No need to discuss customs with the alien!"
"Watch it!" I yelled.
Rasmussen rotated and steered the tractor away from a jumble of boulders. I perspired against the wind of our motion. Toal said, "Children can choose to be deported! Their parents advise them! The parents can be sterilized and stay here, or they can become aliens and be deported with the child! Must not have other children if one is suspected of being a Farmer! Must wait five years!"
Rasmussen brought the quaking machine to a halt on the crest of the highest hill yet encountered. The cultivated fields were behind us. Here, stumps covered the slopes, but young trees had been planted in rows to replace the vanished forest. Silence rang in my ears. Then I heard calls and whistles from unknown wildlife.