a shell--"

"He's blasted a hole right in that building, officer!" the fat man
shrilled. "He's dangerous."

The cop ignored the gaping hole in the wall. "You'll have to come along
with me, sir. This gentleman registered a complaint ..."

Brett stood staring into the cop's eyes. They were pale blue eyes,
looking steadily back at him from a bland face. Could the cop be real?
Or would he be able to push him over, as he had other golems?

"The fellow's not right in the head," the fat man was saying to the cop.
"You should have heard his crazy talk. A troublemaker. His kind have got
to be locked up!"

The cop nodded. "Can't have anyone causing trouble."

"Only a young fellow," said the fat man. He mopped at his forehead with
a large handkerchief. "Tragic. But I'm sure that you men know how to
handle him."

"Better give me the gun, sir." The cop held out a hand. Brett moved
suddenly, rammed stiff fingers into the cop's ribs. He stiffened,
toppled, lay rigid, staring up at nothing.

"You ... you killed him," the fat man gasped, backing. The second cop
tugged at his gun. Brett leaped at him, sent him down with a blow to the
ribs. He turned to face the fat man.

"I didn't kill them! I just turned them off. They're not real, they're
just golems."

"A killer! And right in the city, in broad daylight."

"You've got to help me!" Brett cried. "This whole scene: don't you see?
It has the air of something improvised in a hurry, to deal with the
unexpected factor; that's me. The Gels know something's wrong, but they
can't quite figure out what. When you called the cops the Gels
obliged--"

* * *

Startlingly the fat man burst into tears. He fell to his knees.

"Don't kill me ... oh, don't kill me ..."

"Nobody's going to kill you, you fool!" Brett snapped. "Look! I want to
show you!" He seized the fat man's lapel, dragged him to his feet and
across the sidewalk, through the opening. The fat man stopped dead,
stumbled back--

"What's this? What kind of place is this?" He scrambled for the opening.

"It's what I've been trying to tell you. This city you live in--it's a
hollow shell. There's nothing inside. None of it's real. Only you ...
and me. There was another man: Dhuva. I was in a cafe with him. A Gel
came. He tried to run. It caught him. Now he's ... down there."

"I'm not alone," the fat man babbled. "I have my friends, my clubs, my
business associates. I'm insured. Lately I've been thinki