position. We do it."

When she had gone on to explain, The Guesser's mind had boggled at her
audacity--at first. And then he'd begun to see how it might be possible.

For it was not until then that the woman had given The Guesser
information which he hadn't thought to ask about before. The first was
her name: Deyla. The second was her job.

She was a cleaning woman in Executive territory.

And, as she outlined her plan for reaching the Misfits, The Guesser
began to feel despair slipping from his mind, to be replaced by hope.

* * * * *

The Guesser plodded solemnly along the street toward the tall,
glittering building which was near the center of Executive territory,
his feet moving carefully, his eyes focused firmly on the soft, textured
surface of the pavement. He was clad in the rough gray of a Class Six
laborer, and his manner was carefully tailored to match. As he was
approached by Fours and Fives, he stepped carefully to one side, keeping
his face blank, hiding the anger that seethed just beneath the surface.

Around his arm was a golden brassard indicating that he was contracted
to a Class One, and in his pocket was a carefully forged card indicating
the same thing. No one noticed him; he was just another Sixer going to
his menial job.

The front of the building bore a large glowing plaque which said:

VIORNIS EXPORT CORPORATION

But the front entrance was no place for a Sixer. He went on past it,
stepping aside regularly for citizens of higher class than his own
assumed Six. He made his way around to the narrow alley that ran past
the rear of the building.

There was a Class Five guard armed with a heavy truncheon, standing by
the door that led into the workers entrance. The Guesser, as he had
been instructed by Deyla, had his card out as he neared the doorway. The
guard hardly even glanced at it before wagging a finger indicating that
The Guesser was to pass. He didn't bother to speak.

The Guesser was trembling as he walked on in--partly in anger, partly in
fear. It seemed ridiculous that one glance had not told the guard that
he was not a Class Six. The Guesser was quite certain that he didn't
_look_ like a Sixer. But then, Fives were not very perceptive people,
anyway.

The Guesser went on walking into the complex corridors of the lower part
of the building, following directions that had been given him by Deyla.
There was no hesitation on his part; his memory fo