droom and told her everything.

When he'd finished she said, "This is something I've got to see for
myself."

Gusterson shrugged. "If you think you've got to. I say we should head
for the hills right now. One thing I'm standing on: the kids aren't
going back to school."

"Agreed," Daisy said. "But, Gusterson, we've lived through a lot of
things without leaving home altogether. We lived through the
Everybody-Six-Feet-Underground-by-Christmas campaign and the Robot
Watchdog craze, when you got your left foot half chewed off. We lived
through the Venomous Bats and Indoctrinated Saboteur Rats and the
Hypnotized Monkey Paratrooper scares. We lived through the Voice of
Safety and Anti-Communist Somno-Instruction and Rightest Pills and
Jet-Propelled Vigilantes. We lived through the Cold-Out, when you
weren't supposed to turn on a toaster for fear its heat would be a
target for prowl missiles and when people with fevers were unpopular.
We lived through--"

Gusterson patted her hand. "You go below," he said. "Come back when
you've decided this is different. Come back as soon as you can anyway.
I'll be worried about you every minute you're down there."

When she was gone--in a green suit and hat to minimize or at least
justify the effect of the faded stripes--Gusterson doled out to the
children provender and equipment for a camping expedition to the next
floor. Iago led them off in stealthy Indian file. Leaving the hall
door open Gusterson got out his .38 and cleaned and loaded it,
meanwhile concentrating on a chess problem with the idea of confusing
a hypothetical psionic monitor. By the time he had hid the revolver
again he heard the elevator creaking back up.

* * * * *

Daisy came dragging in without her hat, looking as if she'd been
concentrating on a chess problem for hours herself and just now given
up. Her stripes seemed to have vanished; then Gusterson decided this
was because her whole complexion was a touch green.

She sat down on the edge of the couch and said without looking at him,
"Did you tell me, Gusterson, that everybody was quiet and abstracted
and orderly down below, especially the ones wearing ticklers, meaning
pretty much everybody?"

"I did," he said. "I take it that's no longer the case. What are the
new symptoms?"

She gave no indication. After some time she said, "Gusterson, do you
remember the Dore illustrations to the _Inferno_? Can you visualize
the paintin