The Tower (Part 2)

Compelled by his native curiosity he makes his way slowly, stumbling frequently. The walls are cold and slimy to his touch. A rat skitters by his feet, and he is conscious of a low murmuring sound that he cannot explain. Up and up he goes. The darkness takes away his sense of time and space, until he isn't sure how long he has been climbing. He doesn't like the feeling of confinement, the feeling that he is out of control, so he is relieved when at last he reaches the top. He marks his ascent: three hundred twenty-two steps. There is no means of egress, no relief from his persistent feeling of claustrophobia. He rests for a while to regain his strength for the downward journey. More accustomed now to his environment his thoughts turn to his plans for the Deviants; the thought transference seminars and the mind control experiments on Deviant children. They had come so far in establishing control that there was little resistance now, only a few guerrillas out here on the plain, making trouble with their war wagons and their insistence on insurgence. His thoughts return to the the matter at hand as he feels himself nearing the ground. He has found nothing to concern him in the tower's bleak interior. In his anxiety to be free of its constricting hold he has forgotten the upward step count. It doesn't really matter anyway... as if the Deviants could outmaneuver him... he continues his descent, three hundred twenty-three, three hundred twenty-four, three hundred twenty-five...