I come in?" she
asked hopefully. "I'm really sorry about your legs."

"You will not come in, Mary Ellen. I don't trust myself alone with you."

"You mean it?"

"I was never more sincere." He almost believed it himself.

"We don't _have_ to get married if you're not going to be here long
enough to make it worthwhile," she said happily. "I was thinking--"

He glanced warningly inside the room.

"He's a big nuisance," she whispered. "Look. I've got to work tomorrow,
but in the evening I'll be free. Put the kid on a merry-go-round and
come and see me, huh?" She threw her arms around Marcus and kissed him
passionately. Then she turned and ran down the hall.

Marcus shook his head and went into his room.

* * * * *

In the morning, Marcus had little difficulty contacting an infolegger.
For a rather large sum, a map purporting to show the location of A-CELO
exchanged hands. For another sum, a map of the principal transportation
tubes was added to it. Both were assuredly out of date in many respects,
but were probably correct in the one detail Marcus was concerned with.

They started rather late to avoid the morning rush. There were some
transportation complications. At the first trial they arrived at the
wrong section of the city. After consultation with various passengers
and robot way stations, they got it straightened out. Penciling
corrections on the map, they retraced their route, making only one
mistake along the way. This mistake was not their fault. A transfer
junction had been relocated since they had passed through it on the way
out.

They got to their destination in good time, perhaps faster than if they
had used the services of Information Center. A-CELO was also an example
of neo-drive-in classical. But instead of resembling something
appropriate, say a five or six pointed star, it appeared to be a mere
jumble of children's curv-blocks. A closer look convinced Marcus that
his first appraisal had been wrong. Originally it must have been built
to house another A-function. Perhaps A-WR (Anatomy; woman, reclining).

Whatever it was on the outside, A-CELO was confusion within. Marcus
found it impossible to get near the question booths. Robots scurried
about in seemingly useless tasks and workmen shouted orders that no one
paid attention to. In the midst of the dust and turmoil, one man stood
on a platform and watched the frantic effort with bored serenity.

"Moving," he sai