Brenda Hamilton looked down.
“You are afraid to be a woman,” said William. “Indeed, perhaps you do not know how. You are ignorant. You are frightened. Accordingly, it is natural for you to be distressed, hostile, confused, and to seize what theories or pseudotheories you can to protect yourself from what you most fear-your femaleness.”
“I see now,” said Doctor Hamilton, icily, “why I have been dressed as I am, why there is this mirror in my room.”
“We wish you,” said William, “to learn your womanhood, to recognize it-to face it.”
“I hate you,” she said.
“It is my hope that someday,” said William, “you will see your beauty and rejoice in it, and display it proudly, unashamed, brazenly even, excited by it, that you will be no longer an imitation man but an authentic woman, true to your deepest nature, joyous, welcoming and acclaiming, no longer repudiating, your femaleness, your womanhood, your sexuality.”
“Being a female,” wept Hamilton, “is to be less than a maul”
William shrugged. “If that is true,” he said, “dare to be it.”
“No!” said Hamilton. “No!”
“Dare to be a female,” said William.
“No!” said Hamilton. “No! No!”
Brenda Hamilton ran in misery to the wall of her quarters. She put her head against the white-washed plaster, the palms of her hands.
She sobbed.
“Very feminine,” said William.
She turned to face him, red-eyed.
“You are doubtless playing a role,” said William.
“Please be kind to me, William,” she begged.
William rose from the chair.
“Don’t go, William!” she cried. She put out her hand.
William stood in the room, in the light of the single light bulb. He did not move.
“Why am I being treated like this?” whispered Brenda Hamilton.
“The third series of tests will begin in a day or two,” said William.
Brenda Hamilton said nothing.
“The second series will terminate tomorrow evening.”
“Why am I being treated like this?” demanded Brenda Hamilton.
William did not speak.
“Bring me my clothing, William,” begged Hamilton.
“You are wearing it,” said William.
“At least bring me my brassiere,” she begged.
“You do not need it,” he said.
She turned away.
“Your other clothing,” said William, “has been destroyed, burned.”
Brenda Hamilton turned and faced him, aghast.
She shook her head. “Why?” she asked.
“You will not be needing it,” said William. “Furthermore it is evidence of your presence.”
She shook her head, numbly.
“All of your belongings have been disposed of,” said William. “Books, shoes, everything.”
“No!” she said.
“There will not be evidence that you were ever within the compound.”
She looked at him, blankly.
“You have never been outside of it, except once in the Rover with Gunther and me,” said William. “You can be traced to Salisbury,” said William, “that is all.”
“But Herjellsen,” she said.
“The Salisbury authorities know nothing of Herjellsen,” said William. “They do not even know he is in the country.”
Brenda Hamilton leaned back against the wall. She moaned.
William turned to go.
“William!” she cried.
He paused at the door.
“Free me,” she said. “Help me to escape!”
William indicated two buckets near the wall. He had brought them earlier. “One of these,” he said, “the covered one, is water. The other is for your wastes.”
“William!” wept Hamilton.
William indicated the tray, untouched, on the bed. “I recommend you eat,” he said, “that you keep up your strength.”
“I do not want to be a woman,” said Hamilton. “I have never wanted to be a woman! I will not be a woman! Never!”
“You should eat,” said William. “It will be better for you.”
Hamilton shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’ll starve!”
With his foot, William indicated the cardboard shoe boa on the floor. “Here is a brush and comb,” he said, “and cosmetics.”
“I do not wear cosmetics,” said Hamilton.
“It does not matter to me,” said William. “But you are expected to keep yourself groomed.”
Hamilton looked at him with hatred.
“Is that understood?” asked William.
“Yes,” said Hamilton. “It is understood perfectly.”
Just then Hamilton and William heard the two heavy locks, padlocks, with hasps and staples, on the door being unlocked. William, while within the room, was locked within.
“Who is it?” asked Hamilton.
“Gunther,” said William.
“He must not see me like this!” wept Hamilton.
The door opened. One does not knock on the door of a prisoner.
Gunther entered. Hamilton backed away, against the opposite wall.
Gunther looked at her. His eyes prowled her body. Gunther had had many women.
His eye strayed to the cot, to the untouched tray. He looked at Hamilton.
“Eat,” he said.
“I’m not hungry,” whispered Hamilton.
“Eat,” said Gunther, “now.”
“Yes, Gunther,” she said, obediently. She came timidly to the cot.
William was irritated.
“Herjellsen is nearly ready,” said Gunther.
“All right,” said William.
Hamilton sat on the cot and, looking down, began to eat.
“No,” said Gunther to Hamilton. She looked at him, startled, frightened. “Kneel beside the cot,” he said.
Hamilton knelt beside the cot, and, as she had been bidden, ate from the tray.
“She must be habituated,” said Gunther to William. “You are too easy with her.”
William shrugged.
“When a man enters the room,” said Gunther to Hamilton, “you are to kneel, and you are not to rise until given permission.”
Hamilton looked at him, agonized.
“Do you understand?” asked Gunther.
“Even if it is one of the blacks?” asked Hamilton.
“Yes,” said Gunther. “They are males.” He looked down at her. “Is this clearly understood?”
“Yes, Gunther,” said Brenda Hamilton. She dared not question him.
Gunther indicated the cardboard boa. He kicked it toward her.
“She does not use cosmetics,” said William.
“Tomorrow night,” said Gunther to Hamilton, “adorn yourself.”
He then turned away, and left the room. “Do not lock the door,” said William. “I am coming with you, presently.”
Hamilton leaped to her feet, angrily.
“You obey him very well, Doctor Hamilton,” said William.
She blushed.
“Adorn yourself!” she mocked.
“I would do so, if I were you,” said William.
“I do not like this dress!” said Hamilton.
“Then remove it,” said William.
Brenda Hamilton’s hand lashed forth to strike William, but he caught her wrist, easily. She struggled to free it, and could not.
He forced her, she resisting, again to her knees.
“One thing you must learn, Doctor Hamilton,” said William, “before you think of striking with impunity, is that men may not choose to permit it. Further, such a blow might have consequences. You might be beaten, and perhaps severely.” He looked down at her. “It is important that you understand, Doctor Hamilton,” he said, “that men are stronger than you.”
At his feet Brenda Hamilton, for the first time in her life, understood truly what this might mean, that men were stronger than women.
“You are angry with me,” she said, “William.”
He looked down on her, furious.
Unable to meet his eyes, she put her bead down.