It was a big place, scaled for a large man, an orderliness to it under the apparently random placement of desk, filing cabinets, piled baskets of papers. “For tax economy reasons!” They could get a yes-opp matricide for tax economy reasons! With motions of thinly suppressed violence, Movius folded the paper, thrust it into a pocket. “For tax economy reasons, would you favor elimination of the supernumerary department of Liaitor? “On this date, the Stackman Absolute Sample having been consulted, the governmental function of Liaitor is declared abolished. The message chute had disgorged the paper onto his desk less than an hour ago, as he’d been sorting the morning mail. Movius finished dumping the contents of his desk drawers into the wastebasket, topped the pile with his name plaque. They turned their backs on him, began emptying files into boxes. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.” The men came in with an overplayed clatter of officiousness, banging the handcart against the desk. He could see the workmen’s manner change. “We were told to move the Liaitor files to storage. “Yes?” His voice still held its tone of command. One of the workmen at the door coughed, looked at the desk plaque which Movius had not yet removed. Today, he was Daniel Movius, EX-Senior Liaitor. No more special foods at the restricted restaurants, no more extra credit allowance, no Upper Rank apartment, no car, no driver, no more courting gestures from such as Bista. Movius did not recognize them, but the LP above their lapel numbers told him. Two men appeared in the doorway pushing a handcart loaded with boxes. In Roper’s name, where was Cecelia? Was she another averted face? “Avert your faces, you clogs! Don’t look at me!”Īnother thought intruded. He hurled himself into his chair, sent the angry thoughts after them, the words he dared not use. Yet only yesterday she had made courting gestures, bending toward him over her desk to show the curves under the light green coveralls.

Sephus! You son of a Sep! A woman followed. And down below them, the drabness, the smoke, the dismal carpet of factories and Warrens.Ī man walked past the door, examined the blank opposite wall of the corridor. He jerked out of his chair, strode to the window, stared at the morning light on the river.įar out across the river, in silver layers up the Council Hills, he could see the fluting, inverted stalagmites of the High-Opp apartments. Daniel Movius began to clench and unclench his fists. People averting their faces as they walked past the office door finally wore through his numbness.

High opp frank herbert