Then I began to get numb. My breathing slowed down markedly, and I felt perspiration dripping from my forehead and upper lip. I didn't even care that I'd been drugged, and the awful feeling of panic had disappeared. I could still remember everything they'd said to me, and I knew they were going to use me in some horrible experiment in terror, but I was no longer concerned about it. I knew I should be, but I simply didn't care about anything. For a few minutes I fought the feeling, trying to rekindle the rage I'd felt inside me, but there was none left. Whatever they did, whatever they said, was all right with me. It was silly to fight it, to worry about it. I was in their power, and their power was enormous. I would submit to it, and maybe somehow I would survive. After all, that was what really counted in the long run. Their faces warped in front of me — Tanya's and Kalinin's — and they were staring at me as they would stare at a guinea pig in a cage, but I didn't mind.
