The street lights were lit; the skyways twinkled; Jumper eyes floated up and down; the shops were blazing… And overhead there was nothing… nothing but a deep, black, fathomless infinity.

“The sun!” Reich shouted. “The sun!”

He pointed upward. The office workers regarded him with suspicious eyes and hurried on. No one looked up.

“The sun! Where’s the sun? Don’t you understand, you fools? The sun!” Reich plucked at their arms, shaking his fist at the sky. Then the first of the guards came through the revolving door and he took to his heels.

He went down the footway, turned sharp to his right and sprinted through an arcade of brilliant, busy shops. Beyond the arcade was the entrance of a Vertical Pneumatique to the skyway. Reich leaped in. As the door closed behind him, he caught sight of the pursuing guards less than twenty yards off. Then he was lofted seventy stories and emerged on the skyway.

There was a small car-park alongside him, shelved onto the face of Monarch Tower, with a runway leading into the skyway. Reich ran in, flung credits to the attendant and got into a car. He pressed GO. The car went. At the foot of the runway he pressed LEFT. The car turned left and continued. That was all the control he had. Left, right; stop, go. The rest was automatic. Moreover, cars were strictly limited to the skyways. He might spend hours racing in circles high over the city, trapped like a dog in a revolving cage.

The car needed no attention. He glanced alternately over his shoulder and up at the sky. There was no sun… and they went about their business as though there had never been a sun. He shuddered. Was this more of the one-eye kick? Suddenly the car slowed and stopped; and he was marooned in the middle of the skyway, halfway between Monarch Tower and the giant Visiphone & Visigraph Building.

Reich hammered on the control studs. There was no response. He leaped out and raised the tail hood to inspect the pick-up. Then he saw the guards far down the skyway, running toward him, and he understood. These cars were powered by broadcast energy. They’d cut the transmission off at the car-park and were coming after him. Reich turned tail and sprinted toward the V & V Building.

The skyway tunneled through the building and was lined with shops, restaurants, a theater — and there was a travel office! A sure out. He could grab a ticket, get into a one-man capsule and have himself slotted to any of the take-off fields. He needed a little time to reorganize… reorient… and he had a house in Paris. He leaped across the center island, dodged past cars and ran into the office.

It looked like a miniature bank. A short counter. A grilled window protected by burglar-proof plastic. Reich went to the window, pulling money from his pocket. He slapped credits down on the counter and shoved them under the grille.