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" with their smugly belligerent sloganBetter EAT than be EATen . . .
           "Look at Spielman," he advised, and I pricked up my ears, though it was something else I strove to look at. "All he asked was that the  not be programmed to EAT its enemies automatically. So they call him a Student-Unionist, and theystrip him of his privileges --"
           "Oh dear!" the female fretted, whose leotard now went the way of Max's rank and tenure.
           "So it's all meaningless," the bearded one went on. "There aren't any Finals; there's no Dean o' Flunks at the South Exit to punish us if we don't Pass. Every question is multiple-choice; there's no final point or meaning in the University, it's -- look here, it's like this: a naked physical fact!"
           I gasped with Chickie.
           "Like the Ismists say, it all comes down to distinctions in our minds; we can't ever get to the things themselves. We can thrust, and we can thrust. . ."
           "No!"
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