IN ARBROATH, THINGS WEREN’T going well. Although everyone had passed a more or less wonderful and restful night, the town was now filled with the misery, exposure and sheer irritation provided by a the huge telepathic clamp in which they were held. Husbands were aware of how much they annoyed their wives, wives were aware of how often they drove their husbands to distraction (and the details of partners’ distractions were sometimes quite alarming), children were aware of how little adults actually knew about anything and how much of the time they spent bluffing frantically and trying to look expert…every secret anyone had kept was out and jumbling about with every other secret – resentments, petty rivalries and uncharitable assumptions were battering against every, by now, deeply weary consciousness. And this was actually the most pleasant thing that the morning had brought. On the darker side, blocks of houses were being methodically cleared by police or soldiers with dead faces and deader eyes. All the occupants would be marched away, their faces also becoming eerie blanks. No one ever came back.

Citizens found this disturbing and also found themselves unable to do anything about it. They sat in their homes, or wandered the streets, harassed by the minds of others and waiting to be taken away.