or see anything other than metal walls, great roaring
factories, the plant-yards, barracks. But it was better than being on
surface. And some day it would end and they could return. Nobody
_wanted_ to live this way, but it was necessary.

He turned the page angrily and the poor paper ripped. Damn it, the paper
was getting worse quality all the time, bad print, yellow tint--

Well, they needed everything for the war program. He ought to know that.
Wasn't he one of the planners?

He excused himself and went into the other room. The bed was still
unmade. They had better get it in shape before the seventh hour
inspection. There was a one unit fine--

The vidphone rang. He halted. Who would it be? He went over and clicked
it on.

"Taylor?" the face said, forming into place. It was an old face, gray
and grim. "This is Moss. I'm sorry to bother you during Rest Period, but
this thing has come up." He rattled papers. "I want you to hurry over
here."

Taylor stiffened. "What is it? There's no chance it could wait?" The
calm gray eyes were studying him, expressionless, unjudging. "If you
want me to come down to the lab," Taylor grumbled, "I suppose I can.
I'll get my uniform--"

"No. Come as you are. And not to the lab. Meet me at second stage as
soon as possible. It'll take you about a half hour, using the fast car
up. I'll see you there."

The picture broke and Moss disappeared.

* * * * *

"What was it?" Mary said, at the door.

"Moss. He wants me for something."

"I knew this would happen."

"Well, you didn't want to do anything, anyhow. What does it matter?" His
voice was bitter. "It's all the same, every day. I'll bring you back
something. I'm going up to second stage. Maybe I'll be close enough to
the surface to--"

"Don't! Don't bring me anything! Not from the surface!"

"All right, I won't. But of all the irrational nonsense--"

She watched him put on his boots without answering.

* * * * *

Moss nodded and Taylor fell in step with him, as the older man strode
along. A series of loads were going up to the surface, blind cars
clanking like ore-trucks up the ramp, disappearing through the stage
trap above them. Taylor watched the cars, heavy with tubular machinery
of some sort, weapons new to him. Workers were everywhere, in the dark
gray uniforms of the labor corps, loading, lifting, shouting back and
forth. The stage was deafening with n