Arcadian's Asylum by James Axler Page A

predetermined ways simply because they had always done so, and to step outside that box would be something that would not—could not—cross their consciousness. Yet how could this tally with the thriving ville they had seen when they were with Toms? And if the sec force was as blandly rigid as it appeared to be right now, how could it act as a defense against outside forces?
    Too many questions, and as of yet no indications of answers.
    As they passed through the gate, all of them noticed that the sec guards seemed to loosen a little. Blasters fell from the poised to the casual; those who had been marching in step now went out of step with each other. It was hard to tell whether it was an unconscious move, now that they had crossed into another territory, or whether it was designed to make the group less conspicuous. If that was the aim, then it certainly seemed to be working. The formal procession that they had formed in the shanty ville now became a loose group. Rather than being the guarded and the guards, they seemed to be walking together. And the people who passed them on the streets didn’t give them a second glance.
    There was no doubt now that they had moved into a sector of the ville that they knew. This was the central area that they had stayed and worked in when passing through with Toms. It struck them all as odd that the shanty ville and the affluent sectors should be so close together. The reasons for that might become apparent, once they met with the baron and were, hopefully, made privy to his reasons for wanting them back in his ville.
    For now, they could only marvel at the differences between two sectors of the same ville, so closely aligned geographically and yet so far apart in every other way.
    Now, rather than people standing and staring in slack-jawed incomprehension, the companions were barely noticed as they walked the streets. In part, this was due to the way in which the black-clad sec stood slightly away from the companions, keeping their presence known yet retaining an unobtrusive air. However, part of it was also because this main section of the ville was busy—people had neither time nor inclination to stare or wonder at the group that moved among them.
    As they traveled from the less-populated streets that ran near the wire fence and toward the more densely populated center of the ville, the number of people bustling in the thoroughfares became greater. Absorbed by whatever business they were going about, they had no reason to give a second glance to the group. Indeed, from the manner in which they moved, weaving their way in and out of the spaces between Ryan’s people and the sec who were now merely—seemingly—accompa nying them, they not only hardly seemed to notice that the companions were there, but also gave cover should the outlanders feel the need to make a break for it.
    The thought may have briefly crossed Ryan’s mind, but it was swiftly dismissed. To try to escape from the clutches of the sec would be pointless. First, although they could use the crowds as cover, where would they go? The sec seemed to have the ville sewn up tighter than the pussy of a gaudy who hadn’t yet been handed the jack. Second, if they did get past any of these obstacles, then where could they head? Jackson Spire was the nearest ville they knew of, and that was a few days away, as well as being an Arcady satellite. Third—and perhaps most importantly—Arcadian had wanted them. Ryan figured they’d better find out why before any action was taken.
    Early evening was beginning to fall, and the lamps that lit the streets were glowing, the lamplighters whose task it was to keep the oil and tallow lamps filled going about their business. The interiors of stores and bars were brightly illuminated. Some used tallow, oil or gas. The ville seemed able to generate electricity, as well, from the plant housed in a building that lay just a little off the square, behind another building that Mildred