Part 3

           Hedidnotknowwherehewas. PresumablyhewasintheMinistryofLove,buttherewasnowayofmakingcertain. Hewasinahigh-ceilingedwindowlesscellwithwallsofglitteringwhiteporcelain. Concealedlampsfloodeditwithcoldlight,andtherewasalow,steadyhummingsoundwhichhesupposedhadsomethingtodowiththeairsupply. Abench,orshelf,justwideenoughtositonranroundthewall,brokenonlybythedoorand,attheendoppositethedoor,alavatorypanwithnowoodenseat. Therewerefourtelescreens,oneineachwall. 

           Therewasadullachinginhisbelly. Ithadbeenthereeversincetheyhadbundledhimintotheclosedvananddrivenhimaway. Buthewasalsohungry,withagnawing,unwholesomekindofhunger. Itmightbetwenty-fourhourssincehehadeaten,itmightbethirty-six. Hestilldidnotknow,probablyneverwouldknow,whetherithadbeenmorningoreveningwhentheyarrestedhim. Sincehewasarrestedhehadnotbeenfed. 

           Hesatasstillashecouldonthenarrowbench,withhishandscrossedonhisknee. Hehadalreadylearnedtositstill. Ifyoumadeunexpectedmovementstheyyelledatyoufromthetelescreen. Butthecravingforfoodwasgrowinguponhim. Whathelongedforaboveallwasapieceofbread. Hehadanideathattherewereafewbreadcrumbsinthepocketofhisoveralls. Itwasevenpossible—hethoughtthisbecausefromtimetotimesomethingseemedtoticklehisleg—thattheremightbeasizeablebitofcrustthere. Intheendthetemptationtofindoutovercamehisfear;heslippedahandintohispocket. 

           ‘Smith!’yelledavoicefromthetelescreen. ‘6079SmithW.! Handsoutofpocketsinthecells!’