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oommates　getting　up；　if　they　didn't　e　at　all　and　he　had　to　spend　whole　days　sitting　at　his　desk　staring　out　the　window；　there　was　nobody　behind　his　back　to　wonder　why　he　was　slacking。　Privacy；　in　fact；　was　almost　as　desirable　for　physics　as　it　was　for　sex。　But　all　the　same；　was　it　necessary？

There　was　always　a　dessert　at　the　Institute　refectory　at　dinner。　Shevek　enjoyed　it　very　much；　and　when　there　were　extras　he　took　them。　And　his　conscience；　his　anicsocietal　conscience；　got　indigestion。　Didn't　everybody　at　every　refectory；　from　Abbenay　to　Uttermost；　get　the　same；　share　and　share　alike？　He　had　always　been　told　so　and　had　always　found　it　so。　Of　course　there　were　local　variations：　regional　specialties；　shortages；　surpluses；　makeshifts　in　situations　such　as　Project　Camps；　poor　cooks；　good　cooks；　in　fact　an　endless　variety　within　the　unchanging　framework。　But　no　cook　was　so　talented　that　he　could　make　a　dessert　without　the　makings。　Most　refectories　served　dessert　once　or　twice　a　decad。　Here　it　was　served　nightly。　Why？　Were　the　members　of　the　Central　Institute　of　the　Sciences　better　than　other　people？

Shevek　did　not　ask　these　questions　of　anyone　else。　The　Social　conscience；　the　opinion　of　others；　was　the　most　powerful　moral　force　motivating　the　behavior　of　most　Anarresti；　but　it　was　a　little　less　powerful　in　him　than　in　most　of　them。　So　many　of　his　problems　were　of　a　kind　other　people　did　not　understand　that　he　had　got　used　to　working　them　out　for　himself；　in　silence。　So　he　did　with　these　problems；　which　were　much　harder　for　him；　in　some　ways；　than　those　of　temporal　physics。　He　asked　no　one's　opinion。　He　stopped　taking　dessert　at　the　refectory。

He　did　not；　however；　move　to　a　dormitory。　He　weighed　the　moral　disfort　against　the　practical　advantage；　and　found　the　latter　heavier。　He　worked　better　in　the　private　room。　The　job　was　worth　doing　and　he　was　doing　it　well。　It　was　centrally　functional　to　his　society。　The　responsibility　justified　the　privilege；

So　he　worked。

He　lost　weight；　he　walked　light　on　the　earth。　Lack　of　physical　labor；　lack　of　variety　of　occupation；　lack　of　social　and　sexual　intercourse；　none　of　these　appeared　to　him　as　lacks；　but　as　freedom。　He　was　the　free　man：　he　could　do　what　he　wanted　to　do　when　he　wanted　to　do　it　for　as　long　as　he　wanted　to　do　it　And　he　did。　He　worked。　He　work/played。

He　was　sketching　out　notes　for　a　series　of　hypotheses　which　led　to　a　coherent　theory　of　Simultaneity。　But　that　began　to　seem　a　petty　goal；　there　was　a　much　greater　one；　a　unified　theory　of　Time；　to　be　reached；　if　he　could　jost　get　to　it。　He　felt　that　he　was　in　a　locked　room　in　the　middle　of　a　great　open　country：　it　was　all　around　him；　if　he　could　find　the　way　out；　the　way　clear。　The　intuition　became　an　obsession。　During　that　autumn　and　winter　he　got　more　and　more　out　of　the　habit　of　sleeping。　A　couple　of　hours　at　night　and　a　couple　more　sometime　during　the　day　were　enough　for　him；　and　such　naps　were　not　the　kind　of　profound　sleep　he　had　always　had　before；　but　almost　a　waking　on　another　level；　they　were　so　full　of　dreams。　He　dreamed　vividly；　and　the　dreams　were　part　of　his　work。　He　saw　time　turn　back　upon　itself；　a　river　flowing　upward　to　the　spring。　He　held　the　contemporaneity　of　two　moments　in　his　left　and　right　hands；　as　he　moved　them　apart　he　smiled　to　see　the　moments　separate　like　dividing　soap　bubbles。　He　got　up　and　scribbled　down；　without　really　waking；　the　mathematical　formula　that　had　been　eluding　him　for　days。　He　saw　space　shrink　in　upon　him　like　the　walls　of　a　collapsing　sphere　driving　in　and　in　towards　a　central　void；　closing；　closing；　and　he　woke　with　a　scream　for　help　locked　in　his　throat；　struggling　in　silence　to　escape　from　the　knowledge　of　his　own　eternal　emptiness。

On　a　cold　afternoon　late　in　winter　he　stopped　in　at　the　physics　office　on　his　way　home　from　the　library　to　see　if　there　were　any　letters　for　him　in　the　pickup　box。　He　had　no　reason　to　expect　any；　since　he　had　never　written　any　of　his　friends　at　Northsetting　Regional；　but　he　hadn't　been　feeling　very　well　for　a　couple　of　days；　he　had　disproved　some　of　his　own　most　beautiful　hypotheses　and　brought　himself　after　half　a　year's　hard　work　right　around　to　where　he　had　started　from；　the　phasic　model　was　simply　too　vague　to　be　useful；　his　throat　felt　sore；　he　wished　there　was　a　letter　from　somebody　he　knew；　or　maybe　somebody　in　the　physics　office　to　say　hello　to；　at　least。　But　nobody　was　there　except　Sabul。

〃Look　here；　Shevek。〃

He　looked　at　the　book　the　older　man　held　out：　a　thin　book；　bound　in　green；　the　Circle　of　Life　on　the　cover。　He　took　it　and　looked　at　the　title　page：　〃A　Critique　of　Atro's　Infinite　Sequency　Hypothesis。〃　It　was　his　essay；　Atro's　acknowledgement　and　defense；　and　his　reply。　It　had　all　been　translated　or　retranslated　into　Pravic；　and　printed　by　the　PDC　presses　in　Abbenay。　There　were　two　authors'　names：　Sabul；　Shevek。

Sabul　craned　his　neck　over　the　copy　Shevek　held；　and　gloated。　His　growl　became　throaty　and　chuckling。　〃We've　finished　Atro。　Finished　him；　the　damned　profiteer！　Now　let　them　try　to　talk　about　'puerile　imprecision'！〃　Sabul　had　nursed　ten　years'　resentment　against　the　Physics　Review　of　leu　Eun　University；　which　had　referred　to　his　theoretical　work　as　〃crippled　by　provincialism　and　the　puerile　imprecision　with　which　Odonian　dogma　infects　every　area　of　thought。〃　'They'll　see　who's　provincial　now！〃　he　said；　grinning。　In　nearly　a　year's　acquaintance　Shevek　could　not　recall　having　seen　him　smile。

Shevek　sat　down　across　the　room；　clearing　a　pile　of　papers　off　a　bench　to　do　so；　the　physics　office　was　of　course　munal；　but　Sabul　kept　this　back　room　of　the　two　littered　with　materials　he　was　using；　so　that　there　never　seemed　to　be　quite　room　for　anyone　else。　Shevek　looked　down　at　the　book　he　still　held；　then　out　the　window。　He　felt；　and　looked；　rather　ill。　He　also　looked　tense；　but　with　Sabul　he　had　never　been　shy　or　awkward；　as　he　often　was　with　people　whom　he　would　have　liked　to　know。　〃I　didn't　know　you　were　translating　it；〃　he　said。

'Translated　it；　edited　it。　Polished　some　of　the　rougher　spots；　filled　in　transitions　you'd　left　out；　and　so　forth。　Couple　of　decads'　work。　You　should　be　proud　of　it；　your　ideas　to　a　large　extent　form　the　groundwork　of　the　finished　book。〃

It　consisted　entirely　Shevek's　and　Atro's　ideas。

〃Yes；〃　Shevek　said。　He　looked　down　at　his　hands。　Presently　he　said；　〃I'd　like　to　publish　the　paper　I　wrote　this　quarter　on　Reversibility。　It　ought　to　go　to　Atro。　It　would　interest　him。　He's　still　hung　up　on　causation。〃

〃Publish　it？　Where？〃

〃In　leu；　I　meant　—　on　Urras。　Send　it　to　Atro；　like　this　last　one；　and　hell　put　it　in　one　of　the　journals　there。〃

〃You　can't　give　them　a　work　to　publish　that　hasn't　been　printed　here。〃

〃But　that's　what　we　did　with　this　one。　All　this；　except　my　rebuttal；　came　out　in　the　leu　Eun　Review　—　before　this　came　out　here。〃

〃I　couldn't　prevent　that；　but　why　do　you　think　I　hurried　this　into　print？　You　don't　think　everybody　in　PDC　approves　of　our　trading　ideas　with　Urras　like　this；　do　you？　Defense　insists　that　every　word　that　leaves　here　on　those　freighters　be　passed　by　a　PDCapproved　expert。　And　on　top　of　that；　do　you　think　all　the　provincial　physicists　who　don't　get　in　on　this　pipeline　to　Urras　don't　begrudge　our　using　it？　Think　they　aren't　envious？　There　are　people　lying　in　wait；　lying　in　wait　for　us　to　make　a　false　step。　If　we're　ever　caught　doing　it；　we'll　lose　that　mail　slot　on　the　Urrasti　freighters。　You　see　the　picture　now？〃

〃How　did　the　Institute　get　that　mail　slot　in　the　first　place？〃

〃Pegvur's　election　to　the　PDC；　ten　years　ago。〃　Pegvur　had　been　a　physicist　of　moderate　distinction。　〃I've　trod　damned　carefully　to　keep　it；　ever　since。　See？〃

Shevek　nodded。

〃In　any　case；　Atro　doesn't　want　to　read　that　stuff　of　yours。　I　looked　that　paper　over　and　gave　it　back　to　you　decads　ago。　When　are　you　going　to　stop　wasting　time　on　these　reactionary　theories　Gvarab　clings　to？　Can't　you　see　she's　wasted　her　whole　life　on　'em？　If　you　keep　at　it；　you're　going　to　make　a　fool　of　yourself。　Which；　of　course；　is　your　inalienable　right。　But　you're　not　going　to　make　a　fool　of　me。〃

〃What　if　I　submit　the　paper　for　publication　here；　in　Pravic；　then？〃

〃Waste　of　time