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"Now I know this looks less than appealing," said Jonas, "but we need to leave an indelible impression in the minds of the people."

"I ain't putting those things on my wrists," said one particularly dirty man.

Lucian picked up a pair. "Look, I'll put them on myself," he said. He quickly snapped the bracelets over both wrists. "I've had a friend specially make these. Just one quick outward twist of the wrists, and you're free." He quickly demonstrated. "If you feel uncomfortable, you're welcome to remove them at any time." He tossed the set over to the dissenter. The man looked them over and then copied Lucian's performance.

"All right, this time I'll do it," he said. "But you better damn well tell us about any jack-foolery before we work for you again."

"You have my word," said Lucian. "Now can we get on with this?"

The protesters put on the shackles, and Lucian threaded a long chain through the center link of each of the manacles. He then slung  it over his shoulder. He looked back at the line of people behind him. "And we're off."

He gave the chain a yank and began walking into the street, snaking through the passers by. 

"Come one, come all," he shouted as they walked, "for I've a truly fascinating wonder for you to see here today. Look closely at these specimens, for they are each and every one precious to us. These are the building blocks of the great empire that we enjoy.

Without each one of these, the likes of you could not enjoy the luxuries of life. Your warm homes, your playhouses and social clubs -- even the light by which you read by late into night -- these amenities are provided by these you see here. And this is how we treat them, as prisoners who are forced to labor for us with little respite for their efforts. See them as they are -- men and women just as you and I, not as tools to be used and discarded like a boot that has a hole in the toe."

Lucian repeated the speech several times as they walked through the crowds. The response to his entreaties was as hostile as ever. He heard jeering and catcalls from several quarters. One man even spat at him. Lucian bore these insults as best he could. No one likes being confronted with their secret guilt, he thought. Give it time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two constables approach. One of them reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Look here, sir," said the constable, "we've gotten a lot of complaints from people who say you're being a public disturbance. Time you all got yourselves home."

Lucian saw the jig was up. Members of the constabulary had publicly chastised him for his efforts in the past. He had always complied, too, not wanting to push his luck.

Morris, the lout, had seen the constable touch Lucian. He had approached from behind, obviously angry that the police had touched Lucian.

"Take your hands off him," he shouted. Before Lucian could try to stop him, Morris had rushed the officers. He landed a sparking fist on the one who had spoken. The other constable quickly brought his club down on the dynamo's head. When the line of dynamos saw one of theirs being assaulted, they jumped to defend him. The constables realized the gravity of the situation and blew their whistles to summon aid of their own.

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Lucian sat in a fetid cell that matched his mood. All his work for the dynamos' cause was wasted. All because one hothead couldn't keep his head in check. It had been a mistake to bring Morris along, an error he would avoid in the future.

To add insult to injury, the constables' sergeant had not believed that he was a baron of the High House. He had to send a message to his secretaries to get someone who could vouch for him.

The door to