ections, small,
Japanese-style bridges crossed over the roadway. On these, Malone saw
uniformed men standing motionless, one to a bridge. They all looked
identical, and each one had a small gold stripe sewn to the chest of
the red uniform. Malone read the letters on the stripe as they passed
the third man. It said: _Guide_.

"Now, you live in Q-wing, sir," the bellman was saying in a nasal, but
rather pleasant voice as Malone looked away. "You're not far from the
Tower Lobby, so you won't have a lot to remember. It's not like living
along, say, the D-E Passageway out near 20 or 23."

"I'm sure it isn't," Malone said politely.

"No," the bellman said, "you got it simple. This here is Q-Yellow--see
the yellow stripe on the wall?"

Malone looked. There was a yellow stripe on the wall. "I see it," he
said.

"So all you got to do," the bellman said, "is follow Q-Yellow to the
Tower Lobby." He acted as if he had demonstrated a Euclidean
proposition flawlessly. "Got it?" he asked.

"Very simple," Malone said.

"O.K.," the bellman said. "Now, the gaming rooms--"

Malone listened with about a fifth of an ear while the bellman went on
spinning out incredibly complex directions for getting around in the
quasi-city that was the Great Universal. At one point he thought he
caught the man saying that an elephant ramp took guests past the
resplendent glass rest rooms to the roots of the roulette wheel, but
that didn't sound even remotely plausible when he considered it. At
last the bellman announced:

"Here we are, sir. Right to your door. A courtesy of the friendly
Great Universal Hotel."

He pulled over to the side, pushed a button on the sidewalk, and the
little car's body elevated itself on hydraulic pistons until it was
even with the elevated sidewalk. The bellman pushed a stud on the
walkway rail and a gate swung open. Malone stepped out and waited
while luggage was unloaded. The courtesy of the Great Universal Hotel
was not free, of course; Malone got rid of some more silver dollars.
He fished in his pockets, found one lone crumpled ten-dollar bill and
arranged it neatly and visibly in his right hand.

"I notice you've got a lot of guides in the halls," he said as the
bellman eyed the ten-spot. "Do that many people get lost in here?"

"Well, not really, sir," the bellman said. "Not really. That's for
the--what they call the protection of our guests. A courtesy."

"Protection?" Malone said. He had noticed, he rec