"You've come to the wrong place for justice," said the official. "P-CAF
doesn't make this kind of an adjustment. Let's see if I can't refer you
to someone else." He rested his head on his hand. Then he straightened
up, snapping his fingers. "Of course. If you want the name of a planet
changed, you go to Astrogation; charts, errors, locations of."

"You do?" Marcus asked dubiously. Life on Mezzerow had not prepared him
for the complexities of governmental organization.

"Certainly," said the official, happy that he had solved the problem.
"Don't thank me. It's what I'm here for. Go to A-CELO."

"Where is it?"

The official frowned importantly and turned to the great vertical file
that Marcus was learning to associate with all departments of the
government. He stabbed his finger at a space, but nothing opened. "Seem
to be all out of reference slips," he said with a casual lack of
surprise. "Come back tomorrow and I may have some. It's quitting time
now."

"Do I have to come back? A-CELO may be on the other side of the city
from here."

"It may be," said the official, reaching for his jacket. "If you don't
want to waste time, buy a map from an infolegger. It'll be a day old,
but chances are it should be accurate on most things." The plate snapped
off, leaving Marcus and his son staring at nothing.

Marcus got up and left the booth. "What's an infolegger?" asked Wilbur
as he followed him.

"They move things fast on Earth," said Marcus tiredly. He hadn't
realized how wearing it could be to chase down the thread of
responsibility in a government that had many things to look after. "An
infolegger doesn't know any more about it than you do, but he'll sell
you information that you can ordinarily get free from the government."

"But who buys from him?"

"Fools like me who get tired of running around. We'd better get back to
the hotel."

"I wish we were on Messy--Mezzerow," said Wilbur wistfully. "Ma would
have dinner ready now."

"I keep forgetting your appetite. All right, we'll eat as soon as we
find a restaurant."

* * * * *

They found one a block away. It was easy enough to walk there. It was
stopping that was hard. Marcus made his way to the side of the street
and hauled Wilbur in out of the stream of pedestrians. Inside there was
one vacant table which they promptly took, oblivious to the glares of
those who were not so fast afoot.

Marcus studied the menu at length. To hi