The door opens and I and my fellows stiffen and fall instantly silent. I and nine others are chosen. I find this an interesting fact in the light of the way I have been passed over so swiftly recently. But then, I was not in so central a position the other times the collector has been in these last few days. The collector pushes open the door marked MINEFIELD. A nervous-looking sweeper is standing on the edge of the field.

"Here are the flags," the collector says to another, commonly known as Boss. He lifts us up a little in the air to show Boss. Then he puts us into the Depositor. I can see through the glass of the Depositor. The doors are closed, and they can't hear us, they being the sweeper, the collector, Boss, and Face.

The game begins. "That sweeper looks nervous," I comment to a flag next to me.

"Yes. It would be interesting to hear it explained what nervous is exactly."

"Indeed. Look at the sweeper now. He is sweating. That's another sign of being nervous, I am told."

"Where did you hear about what happens when they feel nervous?"

"That sweeper, Jack, the one that found out we could talk. He used to sneak to our closet, and told some of us what they feel when they look that way."

"Yes, I remember Jack. Died, didn't he?"

"Yes. Director got careless about halfway through Beginner." The other flags have been planted during the course of our conversation, and now the one I am talking with is taken down and planted. I sit and reflect that the game is nearly over, and it looks as if it is being won. Then I am taken down and planted. The game is won and we are taken up again, as thirty others are added to our midst. I find myself next to the flag I have just been talking to.

"Look, now the sweeper does not look nervous." The other points out.

"Yes," I agree, "I believe they call that 'relieved.'"

"Yes, I surmise that you are right."

"I am often right."

"So am I."

"I should have known. You look intellegent."

"So do you."

"Thank you." It is time for me to be planted now. I am pressed into the soil again by that unseen hand. The one that I was conversing with comes down next, but we can not talk down here anyway.

The sweeper is looking very nervous now, and breathing rather quickly. I wonder if the mines shall be upset soon?

Sure enough, the sweeper is ordered to another spot, takes the step, and sets them off. He looks nervous and something more now. If only I knew the word for it. The Face has a similar expression, but less convincingly.

The field is cleared now, and we flags are taken away to be repaired. I have sustained some small nicks and tears.

I must think of a word for that way they looked after the mines went off, it would surely be a great intellectual advancement...