"Thuno Flâtum was chosen by the Master Class as their leader," continued Tan Trum, "since he was considered the strongest of them all. In other words, his senses, his legs, and his lungs were the most atrophied."
Since this was just a bit confusing, I began to wonder if Tan Trum, after all, were not out of his head.
"You see," he explained, "for ages the Master Class has prided itself on its pure blood. None of its members, under pain of death, has ever been permitted to intermarry with a Second or Third Class citizen. The result of this long interbreeding has been a distinctive type, unlike us low-grade people. Thanks to their lives of luxury, and to their constant use of wheeled vehicles, the Masters have all but forgotten how to use their legs, which have become thin and shriveled; in the same way, since they have never filled their lungs by exercise or labor, their breathing apparatus has almost withered away; while, since they have rarely used their eyes or ears, these organs too have become worthless without artificial aid. All these qualities, consequently, are regarded as signs of superiority—or of 'green blood,' as aristocracy is called among us; and that Master whose lungs are the frailest, whose legs are the feeblest, and whose vision is the dimmest, is chosen to lead the country, since the purity of his lineage is the most unquestioned."
Being unable to understand this arrangement, which somehow did not strike me as altogether sensible, I was so undiplomatic as to let my doubts be known. "I don't see why the people stand for it," I blurted out. "I don't see why they let these frail little Masters rule them, own most of the property, and be excused from fighting, when they—"
But that was as far as I proceeded. The horrified faces of my hearers warned me to halt. Never, I am certain, had such impious words entered their ears before!
It was a full minute before any of them was able to find speech. "Well, I never!" gasped Loa at length, her features more wrinkled than ever as she made a grimace of disgust. "I didn't know we had a radical right in our own home!"
"A poisonous radical!" cried Moa. "Who would have believed it?"
"The next thing, he'll be demanding the single standard in justice, or some other crazy new-fashioned notion!" exclaimed Noa.
"He may even be asking honest politics!" contributed Tan Tal, glowering at me with a resurgence of her previous indignation.
"This is serious indeed!" conceded the Professor, his long head wagging with laconic severity. "Of course, allowances must be made for barbarians; you can't expect to civilize them in a minute. So I'll tell you what we'll do, folks. We'll take him down tomorrow to the Commissioner of Public Thought, and make him swallow the Oath of Fidelity. After that, if he makes any more disloyal statements, he will have to take the responsibility."