Franklyn was alone and scared. He knew he was supposed to go straight down the corridor and into the arms of what? Something that put red X's on beds? If the computer thought he would do that then it had another think coming. Franklyn decided to go back.

He stood and listened at the door he had come through earlier, but he heard nothing on the other side. He tired to open the door, but it was sealed. He sat down and waited. He was hungry, but he would not eat. There were a few pieces of candy left and he was determined to save them.

At last he heard voices at the other end of the corridor. They were coming for him!. There was a metal ladder on the wall, and an air-conditioning vent. Franklyn scrambled up the ladder and swung the grate open. When the search party reached his end of the corridor, Franklyn lay behind the vent, watching them. They were black like him, but he did not find that reassuring. They were somehow different, moving with ominous purpose. He waited and watched, not daring to breathe.

At last the strangers seemed satisfied, and Franklyn crawled away through the duct. By the time they exhausted every other possibility and came through the duct after him, he planned to be deep in another part of the building.

He scrabbled on his hands and knees for what seemed like hours. He had never been so tired in his life. His pants were torn, and only his fear of falling into unknown hands kept him going.

At last he felt he would go crazy if he had to crawl another inch. He wanted desperately to stand up. In the narrow conduit, he could barely move on his knees and hands without scraping his back. He began to look for a way out.

There were many openings, but most were in heavily traveled areas, or offices. It was becoming increasingly difficult to move quietly. A woman walked by a grate almost directly under his nose. She smelled good. Franklyn sniffed, judged and concluded that her scent was like flowers. He closed his eyes and sighed.

When he opened them, the woman had stopped, and she was looking directly through the grate at him!

Their eyes seemed to lock, and then she turned and moved on as though she had never seen him. Franklyn waited until she was out of sight, and then, with his heart pounding, he swung open the grate and emerged. If that woman had seen him, why had she gone on? To get help? Of course! He had to get out of there!

Franklyn ran. He didn't know which way he was going or from which direction he had come. All he knew was that he was running.

A man with a white jacket stepped out in from of him.

"Hey!" he yelled, startled. But Franklyn spun and raced off in a new direction.

"Hey, Franklyn!" the stranger called.

"So they know my name!" Franklyn thought, and he ran even harder.

"Your sister is looking for you!" they called.

Franklyn laughed. "They won't get me to believe that," he panted. It seemed strange to him that no one was chasing him. He didn't know where he was going, so how could they? He could not shake the feeling that he was running into some sort of trap.

Irene led Curtiss, Allen and Raisin Face from her office and together they walked down the carpeted hall. Her step was quick and efficient; and her skirt went "flit, flit, flit" as she walked. Her head was high, a smile danced in the air around her.

"Dam," Allen said softly to Curtiss. "She acts like she's about to whistle."

Curtiss nodded sadly. "Hey Irene," he called. "What are you so glad about?"

"I'm just glad you're here," she said sunnily.

"Glad we're here?" Raisin Face shook her head.

The little group moved on. At last they arrived at two huge double doors. Irene turned and halted. The rest of them came to a stop beside her.

"Yes, I'm glad," she said sincerely. "I've been though this many times before, and it's always the same. At first everyone is suspicious. After you see what we have to show you in here," she paused and tapped the door confidently, "things will be different."

"Irene, you can't even find your own brother . . ." Curtiss stopped himself, but it was too late. Irene's eyes shone. Raisin Face looked down at the carpet.

Allen intervened. "You know what he's trying to say, Irene. You want us to trust you, but you seem to have changed a hundred percent. You never dressed like this before. None of us did. You wear jewelry and makeup. You act so breezy and carefree. You seem to have forgotten everything. I would have expected you to be on our side no matter what. You're in a position to work with us, and help us, but instead you . . ." Allen choked and faltered.

"You expect us to trust you," Raisin Face said unhappily.

Irene's hand slid from the door and dropped to her side. "I'm sorry you think I work for Whitey," she said. "Fortunately, I'm able to prove how wrong you are. Unfortunately, it's you people that have done the forgetting. I've always been on the same side. It's too bad that you have to be so typical." She turned and looked squarely at Allen. "How could you forget?" she said wearily.

Allen hung his head and did not answer.

"People change, Irene," Curtiss mumbled.

"How right you are!" she replied. Then Irene swung open the doors.

The library was easily the most impressive thing they had seen since their arrival. Big, plush and over flowing with the latest equipment and concepts, it took their breath away by virtue of its size alone. It seemed to be a city block wide by a city block long. Curtiss was the first to step in, and his feet sank into very thick carpeting. The floor sloped down at a gentle angle. Away on the far side of the room hung a huge eduvision screen.

The big board flashed status and data reports, new arrivals, numbers assigned or requested. Most of the figures and information meant nothing to Curt. The room stretching out before the board was filled with comfortable-looking swivel chairs, clustered in seemingly random groups of seven or eight.

There were cubicles within low walls, but it was obvious that every chair on that sloping floor could be turned to face the greater screen, now hanging, for the most part, ignored. There was an occasional earnest-looking black man or woman who would stop, look up at the board and jot down something, but almost every black, tan and yellow face was glued to one of the smaller individual screens scattered around the room.

Curtiss became aware that Allen had stepped into the room, and the two of them hung just on the library side of the threshold, feeling conspicuous and clumsy.

The walls were lined with multicolored rows and stacks of edutapes. They looked at each other, wanting to speak, but there was nothing to say.

Click HERE for the Conclusion: Part X