d they, not
having the intelligence to use it properly, had simply jumbled the whole
thing up.

That the natives themselves had no real understanding of any such system
had long been apparent to him. The dwellers in any one area would
naturally be familiar with it; they would know where each place was,
regardless of what meaningless names and numbers might be attached to
it. But strangers to that area would not know, and could not know. The
only thing they could possibly do would be to ask directions of a local
citizen--which, the Nipe had learned, was exactly what they did.

Unfortunately, it was not that simple for the Nipe. There was no way for
him to walk up to a native and inquire for an address. He had to prowl
unseen through the alleys and sewers of a city, picking up a name here,
a number there, by eavesdropping on street conversations. He had found
that every city contained certain uniformed individuals whose duty it
was to direct strangers, and by focusing a directional microphone on
such men and listening, it was possible to glean little bits of
knowledge that could eventually be co-ordinated into a whole
understanding of the city's layout. It was a time-consuming process, but
it was the only way the job could be done. Reconnaissance took a
tremendous amount of time away from his serious work, but that work
could not proceed without materials to work with, and to get those
materials required reconnaissance. The dilemma was unavoidable.

And, being what he was, the Nipe accepted the unavoidable and pursued
his course with phlegmatic equanimity.

Overhead, the city was beginning to waken. The volume of sound began to
increase.

* * * * *

Police Patrolman John Flanders relieved his fellow officer, Patrolman
Fred Pilsudski, at a few minutes of eight in the morning.

It was a beautiful day, even for Miami. In the east, the morning sun
shone brightly through the hard, transparent pressure glass that covered
the street, making the smooth, resilient surface of the street itself
glow with warm light. Overhead, Patrolman Flanders could see the aircars
in their incessant motion--apparently random, unless one knew what the
traffic pattern was and how to look for it. It was Patrolman Flanders'
immediate ambition to be promoted to traffic patrol, so that he could be
in an aircar above the city instead of watching pedestrians down here on
the streets.

"Morning, Fred," he said to hi