 What seems to be true about the world Rikud lives in?
Every day for a week now, Rikud had come to the viewport to watch the great changeless sweep of space. But ever since the engines somewhere in the rear of the world had changed their tone, from the steady whining Rikud had heard all twenty-five years of his life, to the sullen roar that came to his ears now, the feelings had grown. Rikud, for his part, wanted to get back to the viewport and watch the one new bright star. Rikud often thought of his own death, still seventy-five years in the future, not without a sense of alarm. Rikud couldn't remember, and he suddenly wished he could read Crifer's book on astronomy, which meant the same as stars.
 It's run by machines, and no longer run by people. There is no room for decisions.
 It's run by machines, and no longer run by people. There is no room for decisions.  Change never happens. It's a concept that's been erased.  Women and men are segregated, because they can't live with one another.  It's run by machines, and no longer run by people. They remember a time when they could make decisions, but no longer can.