Another crash echoed up the stairwell, much louder this time. A wisp of smoke curled lazily in the air in front of him.
Glen fingered the caked blood on his cheek. Things he had never questioned before seemed utterly meaningless and cruel now. His irritation with Duckpath bubbled over, and he said sourly, "What madness! This whole procedure is incredibly stupid and wasteful."
Joan glanced at Duckpath with raised eyebrows, but said nothing. That gentleman at first stiffened, then relaxed and said blandly, "I wouldn't criticize the Government too much, my boy. It gives us all we have. And it can take it away also." He smiled. "This is not madness, but sheer sanity. You must have been neglecting your Political Science courses."
"Sanity! It's murder and destruction," Glen muttered.
"You know very well, young man, that all that is being destroyed is easily replaced. Will be replaced tomorrow, in fact. Ours is an opulent, productive society." Duckpath's smile deepened into a smirk. "All the important documents, all the valuables, are safely locked away in the central section. And the good that is being done today!" He became rapturous. "The People are led by us, led by the nose. We decide where they will go to school, where they will live, which job they will get, how many children they may have. Soon we will decide when they are to die. We have the power." His eyes glistened.
"And in return we give them security. The population is balanced, the country productive, the old cared for; there is medical service for all. Everything is arranged for the best by the great complex of Government Houses all over the world. Everything is in the hands of the Government." Duckpath was panting slightly. "Everything is in our hands."
"If everything is so perfect, why this?" Glen gestured toward the cloud of smoke seeping through the entrance to the stairway.
"It's only the office furnishings. The building itself won't burn," Joan murmured.
Duckpath gave her a little squeeze. "Our callow young friend is talking about the hatred, I believe, Joanie. The urge of the People to destroy and kill. Well, it is only natural." He belched softly. "These People are aware that their lives are woven from threads held in Government House. And though they are well cared for, they resent it. They resent having to file into this building and be allocated to this and that. They want someone to take care of them, but they resent their loss of freedom. They resent our power.