rged him toward a double scooter.

"This is it, beautiful," he said shortly, at the entrance. And, with an
attempt at levity, "Don't take any more protection." Actually, what
could you say? He went inside quickly, without looking back.

At the door marked _Kansas City Department of Social Adjustment_, he
slipped his plaque into the correct slot for a moment and was admitted
directly to the waiting room for those who had appointments for the day.

There was only one other waiting--a handsome blond youth whose knife was
new. Allen sat down in a lounge chair across the room.

And Nedda came in and sat down beside him.

He could have understood almost anything but that. "How in the name of
fear--"

"Do you think," she said mischievously, taking his hand, "the B Sector
champ is the only one who can get an appointment?"

Before it could more than flash through Allen's mind that he'd not told
her that, the blond youth was standing before them, his eyes hotly on
Nedda. Then, obviously confused that she was already holding hands, he
addressed himself to Allen as though it was what he had intended doing.

"Marty Bowen, sir. Uh--I'm going to see if they'll let me have a double
compartment with some gym apparatus in it." He shifted his weight to the
other foot and hung a thumb nervously in his belt, unable to keep from
darting glances at Nedda.

Allen noted, with rising anger and some other unpleasant emotion he
couldn't define, that she hadn't dropped her eyes. He said curtly.
"Fine, kid--hope you make it." The youth mumbled something else and went
back to his chair.

He had barely seated himself when a voder speaker crooned a number
melodiously. With a quick backward glance at Nedda, the blond lad went
on into the counsel room.

Allen's mind remained in confusion, shot through with anger at himself
that he should waste thoughts now on anything but the coming interview.
The room was beginning to fill quietly with others.

His number was called a few minutes later.

And Nedda's was called along with it.

Well--the place to get the answer was the counsel chamber. He got up
slowly, barely noticing that Nedda continued to hold his hand as they
went in.

The brilliant room was two stories high, with fluted walls and no
windows. Obviously the size was to impress interviewees. But why should
they have to be impressed? Wasn't the wisdom of the five tech doctors
sufficient by itself? Wasn't it?

He sat in a chair indica