I bet they put you in Human resource management, maybe. You’re really good with people.” “I can’t really see myself in a management position, ... couldn’t even organize that Memorial Day picnic.” “I’ll probably end up welding or swinging a pick-axe in the new tunnels.” “Next!” a sharp voice interrupted their conversation. A quick intake of breath came from Alan’s gut and he stepped forward to the woman distributing the designations. “Name?” “Richardson.” Her long nails clicked hurriedly across. And I hate the fucking. And I detest the fucking men who fuck me! They’re such beasts! Worse even than the men in Buggery. At least they enjoyed what they were doing!” Tracey wept with Buttercup, acutely distressed by her lover’s own distress. She looked at Zeta imploringly. “This working in factories isn’t doing Buttercup any good at all. It’s fucking killing her. Isn’t there anything else we can do? Isn’t there any other way we can live?” Zeta looked thoughtful. “I don’t think either are you. More

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