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ith　the　law　of　entropy　and　the　force　of　gravity？　I　had　thought　better　of　your　mind；　Demaere！〃

Oiie　shrank　from　that　thunderbolt　of　contempt。　He　said　no　more；　and　Shevek　said　no　more；　but　Oiie　never　fot　it。　It　lay　imbedded　in　his　mind　thereafter　as　the　most　shameful　moment　of　his　life。　For　if　Shevek　the　deluded　and　simpleminded　utopist　had　silenced　him　so　easily；　that　was　shameful；　but　if　Shevek　the　physicist　and　the　man　whom　he　could　not　help　liking；　admiring；　so　that　he　longed　to　deserve　his　respect；　as　if　it　were　somehow　a　finer　grade　of　respect　than　any　currently　available　elsewhere　—　if　this　Shevek　despised　him。　then　the　shame　was　intolerable；　and　he　must　hide　it；　lock　it　away　the　rest　of　his　life　in　the　darkest　room　of　his　soul。

The　subject　of　the　Benbili　revolution　had　sharpened　certain　problems　for　Shevek　also：　particularly　the　problem　of　his　own　silence。

It　was　difficult　for　him　to　distrust　the　people　he　was　with。　He　had　been　brought　up　in　a　culture　that　relied　deliberately　and　constantly　on　human　solidarity；　mutual　aid。　Alienated　as　he　was　in　some　ways　from　that　culture；　and　alien　as　he　was　to　this　one；　still　the　lifelong　habit　remained：　he　assumed　people　would　be　helpful。　He　trusted　them。

But　Chifoilisk's　warnings；　which　he　had　tried　to　dismiss；　kept　returning　to　him。　His　own　perceptions　and　instincts　reinforced　them。　Like　it　or　not；　he　must　leam　distrust。　He　must　be　silent；　he　must　keep　his　property　to　himself；　he　must　keep　his　bargaining　power。

He　said　little；　these　days；　and　wrote　down　less。　His　desk　was　a　moraine　of　insignificant　papers；　his　few　working　notes　were　always　right　on　his　body；　in　one　of　his　numerous　Urrasti　pockets。　He　never　left　his　desk　puter　without　clearing　it。

He　knew　that　he　was　very　near　achieving　the　General　Temporal　Theory　that　the　loti　wanted　so　badly　for　their　spacefiight　and　their　prestige。　He　knew　also　that　he　had　not　achieved　it　and　might　never　do　so。　He　had　never　admitted　either　fact　clearly　to　anyone。

Before　he　left　Anarres；　he　had　thought　the　thing　was　in　his　grasp。　He　had　the　equations。　Sabul　knew　he　had　them；　and　had　offered　him　reconciliation；　recognition；　in　return　for　the　chance　to　print　them　and　get　in　on　the　glory。　He　had　refused　Sabul；　but　it　had　not　been　a　grand　moral　gesture。　The　moral　gesture；　after　all；　would　have　been　to　give　them　to　his　own　press　at　the　Syndicate　of　Initiative；　and　he　hadn't　done　that　either。　He　wasn't　quite　sure　he　was　ready　to　publish。　There　ething　that　needed　a　little　refining。　As　he　had　been　working　ten　years　on　the　theory；　it　wouldn't　hurt　to　take　a　little　longer；　to　get　it　polished　perfectly　smooth。

The　little　something　not　quite　right　kept　looking　wronger。　A　little　flaw　in　the　reasoning。　A　big　flaw。　A　crack　right　through　the　foundations。　。　。　。　The　night　before　he　left　Anarres　he　had　burned　every　paper　he　had　on　the　General　Theory。　He　had　e　to　Urras　with　nothing。　For　half　a　year　he　had；　in　their　terms；　been　bluffing　them。

Or　had　he　been　bluffing　himself？

It　was　quite　possible　that　a　general　theory　of　temporality　was　an　illusory　goal。　It　was　also　possible　that；　though　Sequency　and　Simultaneity　might　someday　be　unified　in　a　general　theory；　he　was　not　the　man　to　do　the　job。　He　had　been　trying　for　ten　years　and　had　not　done　it。　Mathematicians　and　physicists；　athletes　of　intellect；　do　their　great　work　young。　It　was　more　than　possible　—　probable　—　that　he　was　burnt　out；　finished。

He　was　perfectly　aware　that　he　had　had　the　same　low　moods　and　intimations　of　failure　in　the　periods　iust　before　his　moments　of　highest　creativity。　He　found　himself　trying　to　encourage　himself　with　that　fact；　and　was　furious　at　his　own　naivete。　To　interpret　temporal　order　as　causal　order　was　a　pretty　stupid　thing　for　a　chronosophist　to　do。　Was　he　senile　already？　He　had　better　simply　get　to　work　on　the　small　but　practical　task　of　refining　the　concept　of　interval。　It　might　be　useful　to　someone　else。

But　even　in　that；　even　in　talking　with　other　physicists　about　it；　he　felt　that　he　was　holding　something　back。　And　they　knew　he　was。

He　was　sick　of　holding　back；　sick　of　not　talking；　not　talking　about　the　revolution；　not　talking　about　physics；　not　talking　about　anything。

He　crossed　the　campus　on　his　way　to　a　lecture。　The　birds　were　singing　in　the　newly　leafed　trees。　He　had　not　heard　them　sing　all　winter；　but　now　they　were　at　it；　pouring　it　out；　the　sweet　tunes。　Reedee；　they　sang；　teedee。　This　is　my　properteetee；　this　is　my　territoreereeree；　it　belongs　to　mee；　mee。

Shevek　stood　still　for　a　minute　under　the　trees；　listening。

Then　he　turned　off　the　path；　crossed　the　campus　in　a　different　direction；　towards　the　station；　and　caught　a　morning　train　to　Nio　Esseia。　There　had　to　be　a　door　open　somewhere　on　this　damned　pla！

He　thought；　as　he　sat　in　the　train；　of　trying　to　get　out　of　AIo：　of　going　to　Benbili；　maybe。　But　he　did　not　take　the　thought　seriously。　He　would　have　to　ride　on　a　ship　or　airplane；　he　would　be　traced　and　stopped。　The　only　place　where　he　could　get　out　of　sight　of　his　benevolent　and　protective　hosts　was　in　their　own　big　city；　under　their　noses。

It　was　not　an　escape。　Even　if　he　did　get　out　of　the　country；　be　would　still　be　locked　in；　locked　in　Urras。　You　couldn't　call　that　escape；　whatever　the　archists；　with　their　mystique　of　national　boundaries；　might　call　it。　But　he　suddenly　felt　cheerful；　as　he　had　not　for　days；　when　he　thought　that　his　benevolent　and　protective　hosts　might　think；　for　a　moment；　that　he　had　escaped。

It　was　the　first　really　warm　day　of　spring。　The　fields　were　green；　and　flashed　with　water。　On　the　pasture　lands　each　stock　beast　was　acpanied　by　her　young。　The　infant　sheep　were　particularly　charming；　bouncing　like　white　elastic　balls；　their　tails　going　round　and　round。　In　a　pen　by　himself　the　herd　sire；　ram　or　bull　or　stallion；　heavynecked；　stood　potent　as　a　thundercloud；　charged　with　generation。　Gulls　swept　over　brimming　ponds；　white　over　blue；　and　white　clouds　brightened　the　pale　blue　sky。　The　branches　of　orchard　trees　were　tipped　with　red；　and　a　few　blossoms　were　open；　rose　and　white。　Watching　from　the　train　window　Shevek　found　his　restless　and　rebellious　mood　ready　to　defy　even　the　day's　beauty。　It　was　an　unjust　beauty。　What　had　the　Urrasti　done　to　deserve　it？　Why　was　it　given　to　them；　so　lavishly；　so　graciously；　and　so　little；　so　very　little；　to　his　own　people？

I'm　thinking　like　an　Urraati；　he　said　to　himself。　Like　a　damned　propertarian。　As　if　deserving　meant　anything。　As　if　one　could　earn　beauty；　or　life！　He　tried　to　think　of　nothing　at　all；　to　let　himself　be　borne　forward　and　to　watch　the　sunlight　in　the　gentle　sky　and　the　little　sheep　bouncing　in　the　fields　of　spring。

Nio　Esseia；　a　city　of　five　million　souls；　lifted　its　delicate　glittering　towers　across　the　green　marshes　of　the　Estuary　as　if　it　were　built　of　mist　and　sunlight。　As　the　train　swung　in　smoothly　on　a　long　viaduct　the　city　rose　up　taller；　brighter；　solider；　until　suddenly　it　enclosed　the　train　entirely　in　the　roaring　darkness　of　an　underground　approach；　twenty　tracks　together；　and　then　released　it　and　its　passengers　into　the　enormous；　brilliant　spaces　of　the　Central　Station；　under　the　central　dome　of　ivory　and　azure；　said　to　be　the　largest　dome　ever　raised　on　any　world　by　the　hand　of　man。

Shevek　wandered　across　acres　of　polished　marble　under　that　immense　ethereal　vault；　and　came　at　last　to　the　long　array　of　doors　through　which　crowds　of　people　came　and　went　constantly；　all　purposeful；　all　separate。　They　all　looked；　to　him；　anxious。　He　had　often　seen　that　anxiety　before　in　the　faces　of　Urrasti；　and　wondered　about　it。　Was　it　because；　no　matter　how　much　money　they　had；　they　always　had　to　worry　about　making　more；　lest　they　die　poor？　Was　it　guilt；　because　no　matter　how　little　money　they　had；　there　was　always　somebody　who　had　less？　Whatever　the　cause；　it　gave　all　the　faces　a　certain　sameness；　and　he　felt　very　much　alone　among　them。　In　escaping　his　guides　and　guards　he　had　not　considered　what　it　might　be　like　to　be　on　one's　own　in　a　society　where　men　did　not　trust　one　another；　where　the　basic　moral　assumption　was　not　mutual　aid；　but　mutual　aggression。　He　was　a　little　frightened。

He　had　vaguely　imagined　wandering　about　the　city　and　getting　i