ings as difficult as possible.

However, he'd proved he was the one person I wasn't seeking. One down
and 2,499,999,999 to go.

Within a few days, a new opposition coalition formed, headed by the
Mind. Fortunately, they helped. I'd hesitated on one last point. Pushed.
I gambled the momentum of the initial enthusiasm would carry it.

* * * * *

Originally the plan was a series of rooms, glassed off, that people
could stare into. There was something much better; engineering and I
spent 36 hours straight, figuring costs, juggling space and equipment,
until the modification didn't look too expensive--juggling is always
possible in technical proposals. For the results, the cost was worth it.
I hand-carried the proposal in.

Why not take people _through_ the rooms? We could even design a
simulated, usable spacesuit. There'd be airlock doors between the rooms
for effectiveness, insulation, economy. No children under ten allowed;
no adults over 50. They'd go through in groups of 10 or 11.

Sure, I realized this was the most elaborate, most ambitious concession
ever planned. The greatest ever attempted in its line, it would
cost--both us and the public. But people will pay for value. They'd go
for a buck-and-a-half or even two; the lines of those filing past the
windows, at 50 cents a crack, would also bring in the dough.

They bought it. Not all--they nixed my idea of creating exact
environmental conditions; and I didn't insist, luck and Hollywood being
what they are.

From the first, I established a special group to work on one problem.
They were dubbed the Gravity Gang, and immediately after, the GG. I
hired them for the gravity of the situation, a standard gag that, once
uttered, became as trite as the phrase. The Tour's realism would be
affected by normal weight sensations.

The team consisted of a female set designer--who'd turn any male
head--from the Studio, a garage mechanic with 30 years' experience, an
electronics engineer, a science fiction writer, and the prettiest
competent secretary available. I found Hazel, discovering with delight
she'd had three years of anthropology at UCLA.

As soon as they assembled, I explained their job: find a way to give the
illusion of lessened gravity.

Working conditions would be the best possible--why I'd wanted the women
pretty--and their time was their own. I found the GG responded by
working 10 hours a day and thinking another 14. They w