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not write down your code。
Do not carry your code on your person。 REMEMBER。 You cannot access your account unless your code is entered properly。 Know your code。 Reveal your code to no one。 Only your code allows you to enter the system。
38
My head was between her breasts； where it seemed to be spending a lot of time lately。 She stroked my shoulder。
〃Murray says the problem is that we don't repress our fear。〃
〃Repress it？〃
〃Some people have the gift； some don't。〃
〃The gift？ I thought repression was outdated。 They've been telling us for years not to repress our fears and desires。 Repression causes tension； anxiety； unhappiness； a hundred diseases and conditions。 I thought the last thing we were supposed to do was repress something。 They've been telling us to talk about our fears； get in touch with our feelings。〃
〃Getting in touch with death is not what they had in mind。 Death is so strong that we have to repress； those of us who know how。〃
〃But repression is totally false and mechanical。 Everybody knows that。 We're not supposed to deny our nature。〃
〃It's natural to deny our nature； according to Murray。 It's the whole point of being different from animals。〃
〃But that's crazy。〃
〃It's the only way to survive；〃 I said from her breasts。
She stroked my shoulder； thinking about this。 Cray flashes of a staticky man standing near a double bed。 His body distorted； rippling； unfinished。 I didn't have to imagine his motel panion。 Our bodies were one surface； hers and mine； but the delectations of touch were preempted by Mr。 Gray。 It was his pleasure I experienced； his hold over Babette； his cheap and sleazy power。 Down the hall an eager voice said： 〃If you keep misplacing your ball of string； cage it in a Barney basket； attach some organizer clips to your kitchen corkboard； fasten the basket to the clips。 Simple！〃
The next day I started carrying the Zumwalt automatic to school。 It was in the flap pocket of my jacket when I lectured； it was in the top drawer of my desk when I received visitors in the office。 The gun created a second reality for me to inhabit。 The air was bright； swirling around my head。 Nameless feelings pressed thrillingly on my chest。 It was a reality I could control； secretly dominate。
How stupid these people were； ing into my office unarmed。
Late one afternoon I took the gun out of my desk and examined it carefully。 Only three bullets remained in the magazine。 I wondered how Vernon Dickey had used the missing ammo （or whatever bullets are called by people familiar with firearms）。 Four Dylar tablets； three Zumwalt bullets。 Why was I surprised to find that the bullets were so unmistakably bullet…shaped？ I guess I thought new names and shapes had been given to just about everything in the decades since I first became aware of objects and their functions。 The weapon was gun…shaped； the little pointed projectiles reassuringly bullet…shaped。 They were like childhood things you might e across after forty years； seeing their genius for the first time。
That evening I heard Heinrich in his room； moodily singing 〃The Streets of Laredo。〃 I stopped in to ask whether Orest had entered the cage yet。
〃They said it was not humane。 There was no place that would let him do it officially。 He had to go underground。〃
〃Where is underground？〃
〃Watertown。 Orest and his trainer。 They found a public notary there who said he would certify a document that said that Orest Mercator spent so many days incarcerated with these venomous reptiles blah blah blah。〃
〃Where would they find a large glass cage in Watertown？〃
〃They wouldn't。〃
〃What would they find？〃
〃A room in the only hotel。 Plus there were only three snakes。 And he got bit in four minutes。〃
〃You mean the hotel let them place poisonous snakes in the room？〃
〃The hotel didn't know。 The man who arranged the snakes carried them up in an airline bag。 It was a whole massive deception except the man showed up with three snakes instead of the agreed twenty…seven。〃
〃In other words he told them he had access to twenty…seven snakes。〃
〃Venomous。 Except they weren't。 So Orest got bit for nothing。 The jerk。〃
〃Suddenly he's a jerk。〃
'They had all this antivenom which they couldn't even use。 The first four minutes。〃
〃How does he feel？〃
〃How would you feel if you were a jerk？〃
〃Glad to be alive；〃 I said。
〃Not Orest。 He dropped out of sight。 He went into plete seclusion。 Nobody's seen him since it happened。 He doesn't answer the door； he doesn't answer the phone； he doesn't show up at school。 The total package。〃
I decided to wander over to my office and glance at some final exams。 Most of the students had already departed； eager to begin the routine hedonism of another bare…limbed summer。 The campus was dark and empty。 There was a trembling mist。 Passing a line of trees； I thought I sensed someone edge in behind me； maybe thirty yards away。 When I looked； the path was clear。 Was it the gun that was making me jumpy？ Does a gun draw violence to it； attract other guns to its surrounding field of force？ I walked on quickly toward Centenary Hall。 I heard footsteps on gravel； a conspicuous crunch。 Someone was out there； on the edge of the parking area； in the trees and the mist。 If I had a gun； why was I scared？ If I was scared； why didn't I run？ I counted off five paces； looked quickly left； saw a figure moving parallel to the path； in and out of deep shadow。 I broke into a shambling trot； my gun hand in my pocket； clutching the automatic。 When I looked again； he wasn't there。 I slowed down warily； crossed a broad lawn； heard running； the meter of bounding feet。 He was ing from the right this time； all…out； closing fast。 I broke into a weaving run； hoping I'd make an elusive target for someone firing at my back。 I'd never run in a weave before。 I kept my head down； swerved sharply and unpredictably。 It was an interesting way to run。 I was surprised at the range of possibilities； the number of binations I could put together within a framework of left and right swerves。 I did a tight left； widened it； cut sharply right； faked left； went left； went