An aging man walked out of the line and took his position at the pole.
MacFarland stared at the old man's disciplined face. He had been thinking no one would dare come forward now that they had seen a duel. The old man looked tougher than any of the last group.
He stepped up to the pole and grabbed a handle.
"Relax," the Belderkan said. "This time you'll lose or the good thing will happen, but whichever it is, this will be the last time. Good luck."
Have you done this before? MacFarland squeezed to equal him. The old man squeezed his handle and his needle jumped a quarter of the way across the dial. MacFarland squeezed to equal him. Again pain hammered his bones. Again his face twisted and he moaned over his tortured body.
But it was necessary. It had to be done. This odd form of duelling had started twenty years before, when two groups of non-violent soldiers faced each other in the streets of Rio and tension mounted on both sides. Neither side could accept defeat. Neither side could return home and admit it had surrendered to unarmed men because it lacked patience. In wars fought with violence, men could lose with honor. There was no honor for the loser in a non-violent battle.
Then a man had slashed his wrists and let his blood drip onto the street. "I'll die before I'll leave here," he had said.
"I'll die before I'll give in to you," a man from the opposing group had said, slashing his own wrists.
According to the UN psychologists who had studied the phenomenon, duelling was a form of therapy for the people of the world, a necessary transition from the days when men had earned their manhood by fighting wars or belonging to groups which could be proud of their warriors. The pride of nations demanded some sacrifice.