Barrent nodded warily and invited the old man into his apartment. But Jay, erect and proper, preferred to stay in the store.
"The yearly Lottery drawing was held last night," Jay said. "You, Citizen Barrent, are one of the prize winners. I congratulate you."
"What is the prize?" Barrent asked. He had heard of the yearly Lottery, but had only a vague idea of its significance.
"The prize," Jay said, "is honor and fame. Your name inscribed on the civic rolls. Your record of kills preserved for posterity. More concretely, you will receive a new government-issue needlebeam and, afterwards, you will be awarded posthumously the silver sunburst decoration."
"Posthumously?"
"Of course," Jay said. "The silver sunburst is always awarded after death. It is no less an honor for that."
"I'm sure it isn't," Barrent said. "Is there anything else?"
"Just one other thing," Jay said. "As a Lottery winner, you will take part in the symbolic ceremony of the Hunt, which marks the beginning of the yearly Games. The Hunt, as you may know, personifies our Omegan way of life. In the Hunt we see all the complex factors of the dramatic rise and fall from grace, combined with the thrill of the duel and the excitement of the chase. Even peons are allowed to participate in the Hunt, for this is the one holiday open to all, and the one holiday that symbolizes the common man's ability to rise above the restraints of his status."
"If I understand correctly," Barrent said, "I'm one of the people who have been chosen to be hunted."
"Yes," Jay said.