s brother officer. "How'd the night go?"

"Hi, Johnny. Pretty good. Not much excitement." He looked at his
wristwatch. "You're a couple minutes early yet."

"Yeah. The baby started singing for his breakfast at a God-awful hour.
Harriet woke up to feed him, which woke me up, so here I am. If you want
to give me the call button, I'll take over. You can go get yourself a
cup of coffee."

"I'm up to here with coffee," Pilsudski said, indicating a point just
below his left ear. "I'll have a beer instead."

He touched a switch at his belt and said: "Area 37 HQ, this is 13392
Pilsudski."

A voice in his helmet phones said: "37 HQ, go ahead, Pilsudski."

"Time: 0758 hours. I am being relieved by 14278 Flanders."

"Right. Go ahead."

Pilsudski took off the light, strong helmet, reached inside it, opened a
small sliding panel, and took out an object the size and shape of an
aspirin tablet--the sealed unit that permitted him to understand the
conversation over the police wave band. Without it, the police calls
would have been gibberish.

Flanders accepted the little gadget from the other officer and inserted
it in his own helmet. Then he replaced the helmet on his head. "Area 37
HQ, this is 14278 Flanders. I am relieving 13392 Pilsudski."

"37 HQ," said the voice in his ears. "Okay, Flanders. Transfer
recorded."

Police Patrolman John Flanders, Badge Number 14278, was now officially
on duty.

He looked up into the sky. "Now there's the place to be on a day like
this, Fred. Traffic patrol."

"Not me," said Pilsudski. "Too damn dull. I was on it for six months.
Damn near drove me nuts. Nobody to talk to but another cop--same cop,
day after day. He was a nice guy, don't get me wrong, but Christ!
Nothin' to do but watch for people breakin' traffic pattern. Can't even
pull over to the side and watch the traffic go by. It's dull, I'm
tellin' you, Johnny. I asked for a transfer back to a beat so's I could
see some people again."

"Maybe," said Flanders. "I'd still like to try it."

"Ever'body to their own taste, I guess. Mitchell and Warber were in luck
last night, though. Excitement." He sounded as though he meant the word
to be sarcastic.

"What happened?" Flanders asked.

"Some boob was having a fight with his wife and his air intake was
goofing off at the same time. So, while she's yelling at him, he puts
his aircar on hover." He pointed upward. "Right up there, in Level Two.
He opens the window of his aircar,