ve something more
substantial than the work, now childishly routine, that he was doing at
the factory. Just from studying Max he knew he could devise such
workable communication systems. But all that was idle daydreaming--it
wouldn't be in his lifetime.

The next morning Rhoda insisted they go back into the city to try once
more to persuade Newbridge to leave. When they arrived at the Harker
Building it seemed strangely quiet. The few people who were about kept
avoiding each others' glances and they found themselves alone in the
elevator to the 96th level. But Miss Richards, the doctor's
nurse-secretary, was standing in the corridor as they got out. She was
trembling and found it difficult to talk. "Don't--don't go in," she
stuttered. "No help now."

He pushed past her, took one glance at the fire-charred consulting room
where a few blackened splinters of bone remained and turned away,
leading the two women to the elevator. At first Miss Richards did not
want to go but he forced her to come along. "You have to get away from
here--can't do any good for him now."

She sucked in air desperately, blinked back her tears and nodded. "There
was another ten-minute breakdown this morning. A lot of paraNormals
panicked and a vigilante pack came here to fire-blast the Doctor. They
said I'd be next if things got any worse."

Connor pinched his forehead to hold back his own anguish, then pulled
out a sheet of paper. "Dr. Newbridge was afraid of something like this.
He gave me a list of names."

"I know, Mr. Newman, I know them by heart."

"Shouldn't we try to contact one of them?"

As they came out into the street, she stopped and thought a moment.
"Crane would be the easiest to reach. He's an untitled psychiatrist and
one of the alternate leaders for the underground."

"Underground?"

"Oh, they tried to be prepared for every eventual--"

"It's impossible!" Rhoda broke in. She had been looking up and down the
great avenue as they talked. "There isn't one person in the street, not
one!"

An abandoned robot cab stood at the curb and he threw open the door.
"Come on, get in! Something's happening. Miss Richards, set it for this
Crane's address."

The cab started to shoot uptown, turning a corner into another deserted
boulevard. As it skirted the great Park, he pointed at Central Tower.
There seemed to be a slight crack in the smooth surface half way up but,
as a moment's mist engulfed the tower, it looked flawless again