e Malone a large laugh, which made him uncomfortable and
a little angry. The joke hadn't been all that good, he thought. If
he'd ordered a top-price room he could understand the hospitality, but
the most expensive rooms were in the Tower, with the outside cabins
running a close second. The other rooms dropped in price as they
approached the periphery of the main building.

"A humorist, sir?" the clerk said.

"Not at all," Malone said pleasantly, wishing he'd signed with his
full occupation and address. "I'm a gravedigger. Business has been
very good this year."

The clerk, apparently undecided as to whether or not to offer
congratulations, settled for consulting his registry and then stabbing
at a button on a huge and complex board at his right. A key slid out
of a slot and the clerk handed it to Malone with a rather strained
smile. "10-Q," he said.

"You're very welcome," Malone said in his most unctuous tones. He took
the key.

The clerk blinked. "The bellman will take you to your rooms, sir," he
said in a good imitation of his original voice. "There are maps of the
building at intervals along the halls, and if you find that you have
become lost you have only to ask one of the hall guides to show you
the proper directions."

"My, my," Malone said.

The clerk cleared his throat. "If you wish to use one of the cars," he
went on in a slightly more unsteady voice, "simply insert your key in
the slot beneath one of the wall maps, and a car will be at your
service."

Malone shook his head and gave a deep sigh. "What," he said, "will
they think of next?"

* * * * *

Satisfied with that for an exit line, he turned and found that the
bellman had already taken his luggage from the robot redcap and put it
aboard a small electric car. Malone got in beside him and the bellman
started the vehicle down the hallway. It rolled along on soft, silent
tires. It, too, was gilded. It didn't move very fast, Malone thought,
but it certainly beat walking.

Each hallway which radiated out from the central section beneath the
Tower was built like a small-edition city street. The little cars
scooted up and down the two center lanes while pedestrians, poor
benighted souls, kept to the side walkways. Every so often Malone saw
one, walking along the raised walkway and holding the rail along the
outside that was meant to keep guests of every stage of drunkenness
from falling into the road. At the inters