The rumbling came again. Surely, he told himself, this was a new punishment, and it was death.
There was only one thing for him to do. He sat crosslegged on the smooth floor as the rumble and the other sounds continued, and in opposition to them he made his song, chanting in a loud and even voice. He had learned that a song was to be made when facing death: he had learned that in the birth huts, and he did not question it.
The song was necessary, and his voice, carrying over the sounds that filtered through to him, was clear and strong.
"I am Cadnan, I am Cadnan of Bent Line Tree, I work for the masters, I push buttons and the machine obeys me, I push buttons when the masters say to do it. My song is short. I am near the dead. I have broken the chain, the chain of obedience. I do not want to break this chain. I must break it. Dara says I go. If I do not go then Dara does not go. Dara must go. I break the chain. For this I am near the dead and the room shakes. It is my death and my song. I am Cadnan and Bent Line Tree and I work."
After the song was over, he remained sitting, waiting for what had to come. The rumbling continued, and the room shook more strongly. For some seconds he waited, and then he was standing erect, because he could see.
The door, sprung from its lock by the shaking of the building, had fallen a little open. As Cadnan watched, it opened a bit more, and he went and pushed at it. Under a very light shove, it swung fully open, and the corridor, lights flickering down its length, stood visible. As Cadnan peered out, the lights blinked off, and then came on again.
The rumbling was very loud now, but he saw no machines. He went into the corridor in a kind of curious daze: there were no masters anywhere, none to watch or hurt him. He called once more for Dara, but now he could not hear himself at all: the rumbling was only one of the sounds that battered at him dizzily. There were bells and buzzes, shrieks and cascades of brutal, grinding sounds more powerful than could be made by any machine Cadnan could imagine.
He started down the corridor: the masters had taken Dara in that direction, opposite to his own. Suddenly, one of his own kind stood before him, and he recognized a female, Hortat, through the dusty air. Hortat was staring at him with a frozen expression in her eye.