“Georgelle’s.
We got no room for goof-offs, and no time for argument.
Anybody don’t like the setup, he’s welcome to get out.
Jim here’ll give you a leaflet on the rules.
Better read it before you go anywhere.
If you don’t, you might make a wrong move.
Make a wrong move, and you catch a bullet.”
The man called Jim interrupted, “Reckon you better call off the other patrols, Digger?” he said respectfully to the leader.
Digger nodded curtly and turned to blow three short blasts and a long with his whistle.
An answering short-long-short came from several blocks away.
Other posts followed suit.
Paul realized that he had been surrounded by, a ring of similar ambushes.
“Jim, take him to the nearest water barrel, and see that he shaves,” Digger ordered, then:
“What’s your name, probie?
Also your job, if you had one.”
“Paul Harris Oberlin.
I was a mechanical engineering student when the plague struck.
Part-time garage mechanic while I was in school.”
Digger nodded and jotted down the information on a scratchpad.
“Good, I’ll turn your name in to the registrar.
Georgelle says to watch for college men.
You might get a good assignment, later.
Report to the Esperson Building on the seventeenth.
That’s inspection day.
If you don’t show up, we’ll come looking for you.
All loose probies’ll get shot.
Now Jim here’s gonna see to it that you shave.
Don’t shave again until your two-weeker.
That way, we can estimate how long you been in town—by looking at your beard.
We got other ways that you don’t need to know about.
Georgelle’s got a system worked out for everything, so don’t try any tricks.”
“Tell me, what do you do with dermies?”
Digger grinned at his men.
“You’ll find out, probie.”
Paul was led to a rain barrel, given a basin, razor, and soap.
He scraped his face clean while Jim sat at a safe distance, munching a quid of tobacco and watching the operation with tired boredom.
The other men had gone.
“May I have my pistol back?”
“Uh-uh!
Read the rules.
No weapons for probies.”
“Suppose I bump into a dermie?”
“Find yourself a whistle and toot a bunch of short blasts.
Then run like hell.
We’ll take care of the dermies.
Read the rules.”
“Can I scrounge wherever I want to?”
“Probies have their own assigned areas.
There’s a map in the rules.”
“Who wrote the rules, anyhow?”