by could see the rioters firing in the direction of the
entrance from the north landing stage. Within a matter of thirty
seconds, they began to flee, and a wave of Literates' Guards, in their
futuristic "space cadet" uniforms, came pouring in after them.

* * * * *

Douglass MacArthur Yetsko put the burp gun back together again, tried
the action, and laid it aside with a sigh. He had cleaned every weapon
in his and Prestonby's private arsenal, since lunch, and now he had to
admit the unpalatable fact that there was nothing left to do but turn
on the TV. Ray had been no company at all; the boy hadn't spoken a
word since he'd started rummaging among the captain's books. Gloomily,
he snapped on the screen to sample the soap shows.

Della Pallas was in jail again, this time accused of murdering the
lawyer who had gotten her acquitted on a previous murder rap.
Considering the fact that she had languished in jail for almost a year
during the other trial, Yetsko felt that she had a sound motive.
Rudolf Barstow, in "Broadway Wife," was, like Bruce's spider,
spinning his five hundredth web to ensnare the glamorous Marie
Knobble. And there was a show about a schoolteacher and her class of
angelic little tots that almost brought Yetsko's lunch up.

He shifted the dial again; a young Literate announcer was speaking
quickly, excitedly:

"... Scene of the riot, already the worst this year, and growing
steadily worse. We take you now to downtown Manhattan, where our
portable units and commentators have just arrived, and switch you to
Ed Morgan."

The screen went black, and Yetsko swore angrily. Ray lifted his head
quickly from his book and reached for the sono pistol Yetsko had given
him.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and just a moment, until we can
give you the picture. We're having what is usually labeled as 'slight
technical difficulties,' in this case the difficulty of avoiding
having a hole shot in our camera or in your commentator's head. Yes,
that's shooting you hear; there, somebody's using an auto rifle! How
are you coming, Steve?"

A voice muttered something which, two centuries ago, would have caused
an earth-shaking scandal in the whole radio-TV industry.

"Well, till Steve gets things fixed up, a brief review, to date, of
what's sure to go down in history as the Battle of Pelton's
Purchasers' Paradise--"

"Huh?" Ray fairly shouted, the book forgotten.

"... Started i