 If it did, how do you think Brian's opinion on the rebellion changed throughout the passage?
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Brian Hanson wondered dispassionately for a moment how his assistants could fail to be as absorbed as he was by the work they were doing, then he let it go as he stepped outside the research building. True, there had been others, pioneers, before the company came, who objected to the expansion of the monopolistic control. But, if they could not realize that the company's regime served the best interests of the planet, they would just have to suffer the consequences of their own ignorance. Anything involving executions had to be referred to the Interplanetary Council on Earth. This walk was part of a regular routine of physical exercise that kept his body hard and resilient in spite of long hours spent in the laboratory. He was making that walk in precisely seven minutes, four and four-fifths seconds. He swore some more and grabbed a towel, wrapping it inadequately around him; it didn't quite meet astern. Through the open door of his bedroom he could see his bed neatly turned down as it should be, but the outline under the counterpane and the luxuriant mass of platinum-blond hair on the pillow was certainly no part of his regular routine. Pete Brent's joking words flashed back to him. I don't see anything funny, unless it's you and that suggestive towel. Brian slowly acquired a complexion suitable for painting fire plugs. He struggled out of the bath, wrapped his damp bathrobe clammily around him and marched to the door with a seething fury of righteous anger burning within him. "Wherethehell's who?" "Quit stallin', bud. "She ... why ... why ... she left, of course. Pete lowered his voice to an appreciative whisper, "Gosh, chief, I didn't know you had it in you. All I want is to get out of here—" "Gotcha, chief," Brent whispered understandingly. For the nineteenth time Brian Hanson strode to the door of his cell and rattled the bars. "Listen here, guard, you've got to take a message to McHague. I don't care if you are—" Brian's eyes almost popped out as he saw a gloved hand reach around the guard's neck and jam a rag over his nose and mouth. Another guard was caught and silenced as he came around the end of the corridor. Someone was outside his cell door, a hooded figure which seemed, somehow, familiar.
 He's a conformist at the start, a rebel at the end.
 He's secretly a rebel from the start, but breaks his ties from the rebellion by the end.  He's a conformist at the start, a rebel at the end.  He's a rebel throughout, but questions his loyalties throughout the passage.  He's a conformist throughout, but he's enticed by the idea of being a rebel at the end.