doesn't mean anything to us
but a place where we get our cards balanced."

"It should mean something to you," Conley said hollowly. "Central is the
government."

Penelope stared at him. "Sit down, please. I thought Central was just a
machine."

"It is something more than a machine. There is a small corps of persons
who live inside the machine to service it and occasionally adjust it,
and those persons really are the government--that is, all the government
we have." He sat down stiffly, his back straight. "Now then, Mr. Renner,
your card today showed a credit balance of a hundred and thirteen
thousand points. Is that correct?"

Mark swallowed. "Yes." He looked at Penelope. She was pale. With
difficulty Mark asked, "Is it your job to check up on people, to see if
they are entitled to their points?"

"Oh, my, no. Central doesn't care about that. In fact, Central doesn't
care how much anybody's debit is. We figure as long as a man is in debt
he'll try to pay it off. They always do, at least. No, we never bother
with debits, and I don't suppose we ever would."

Mark breathed a sigh of relief.

"But a credit of over a hundred thousand is something else," said
Conley. "The machines won't handle six figures without trouble, you see,
so there has to be a penalty." He looked very sad. "Now, then, I shall
have to--"

"Wait!" cried Penelope. "His credit is a hundred and thirteen
thousand--but I have his slip for thirty-five thousand. If I turn it in,
that would fix it up for him, wouldn't it."

Mark felt a warm wave of gratitude toward Penelope. She was a million
per cent; no question about it.

"Well--yes, I suppose so. We don't like these last-minute adjustments,
but I suppose--"

* * * * *

She came waving the slip and thrust it into Conley's face.

"There!" she said triumphantly. "Put that on my account."

Conley looked a little sad. "This is your slip?" he asked Mark.

Mark nodded gratefully.

"Let me have your credit card, Miss Penelope. Now, then, I'll transfer
these points--hm." Conley's eyebrows raised. "Do you know what your
balance is now, Miss Penelope?"

Penelope's mouth shot open and she popped her hand across it.

"You have now a hundred and twenty-two thousand," Conley said. He got up
from his chair. "Well, I'm sorry, folks. That's the way it is."

Mark gulped. "What way?"

"Miss Penelope will have to come with me."

Mark was on his feet. "If she goes, I go