paranoid. If some citizen ventures to express a liberal opinion, another citizen invariably snarls: “What are you? Some stinking Niggers bleached-out replica?”
The casualties in barroom fights are staggering. In fact the fear of Negro rephcas—which may be blond and blue-eyed—has depopulated whole regions. The Divisionists are all latent or overt homosexuals. Evil old queens*tell the young boys: “If you go with a woman your rephcas won’t grow.” And citizens are forever putting the hex on someone else’s replica cultures. Cries of: “Hex my culture will you, Biddy Blair!” followed by sound effects of mayhem, continually ring through the quarter. . . . The Divisionists are much given to the practice of black magic in general, and they have innumerable formulas of varying efficacy for destroying
the Mother Cell, also known as the Protoplasm Daddy, by torturing or killing a captured replica. . . . The authorities have finally given up the attempt to control, among the Divisionists, the crimes of murder and unlicensed production of rephcas. But they do stage preelection raids and destroy vast rephca cultures in the mountainous regions of the Zone where rephca moonshiners hole up.
Sex with a rephca is strictly forbidden and almost universally practised. There are queer bars where shameless citizens openly consort with their rephcas.
House detectives stick their heads into hotel rooms saying: “Have you got a rephca in here?”
Bars subject to be inundated by low class rephca lovers put up signs in ditto marks: ” ” ” “s Will Not Be Served Here. . . . It may be said that the average Divi