Each year every inhabitant took a difficult, week-long examination to test whether or not he was backsliding. All youths were given fifteen years of intensive education. Those who could not keep up with the others simply disappeared. Inventions were inspected by Control Offices to make certain that they could not upset Stability. If it seemed that they might—

“And that is why we cannot allow your invention to be put into use,” the Controller explained to Benton. “I am sorry.”

He watched Benton, saw him start, the blood drain from his face, his hands tremble.

“Come now,” he said kindly, “don’t take it so hard; there are other things to do. After all, you are not in danger of the Cart!”

But Benton only stared. At last he said,

“But you don’t understand: I have no invention. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No invention!” the Controller exclaimed. “But I was here the day you entered it yourself! I saw you sign the statement of ownership! You handed me the model!”

He stared at Benton. Then he pressed a stud on his desk and said into a small circle of light, “Send me up the information on number 34500-D, please.”

A moment passed, and then a tube appeared in the circle of light. The Controller lifted the cylindrical object out and passed it to Benton.

“You’ll find your signed statement there,” he said, “and it has your fingerprints in the print squares. Only you could have made them.”

Numbly, Benton opened the tube and took out the papers inside. He studied them a few moments, and then slowly put them back and handed the tube to the Controller.