Much of official Washington had seemed to come to a standstill. With the Senate, the House of Representatives, and the White House in open conflict now, such petty considerations as budgets had to wait. The tourist trade, oddly, had momentarily increased, and hotels through much of the city were jammed. Come see your Capital in an uproar.

After an hour, he still had not spotted Bordes, so he checked for messages at the desk. There were none. Feeling more isolated than ever, his stomach sour and his neck tense, he returned to the pillar.

It was remarkable how life went on without apparent change. By now, most of the people on Earth were aware the planet might be under sentence of death. Many had neither the education nor the mental capacity to understand the details, or judge for themselves; they relied on experts, who knew so very little more than they. Yet even for those with more education and imagination, life went on—conducting business (he imagined the events being discussed over expense-account lunches), politics almost as usual (House investigations notwithstanding), and then back at the end of the day to family and home. Eating. Visits to the bathroom. Sleeping. Lovemaking. Giving birth. The whole cyclic round.

A tall, gangly black youth in a green army overcoat passed through the rotating front door, paused, then walked ahead, looking right and left suspiciously. Hicks clung to the security of not moving, not making himself conspicuous, but the boy's head turned his way and their eyes met and held. Bordes raised one hand tentatively in greeting and Hicks nodded, pushing away from the pillar with his shoulder.

The youth approached him quickly, coat swishing around his ankles. An embarrassed grin crossed his face. He stopped two yards from Hicks and offered his hand, but Hicks shook his head angrily, refusing to touch him.

"What do you want from me?" he asked the boy.

Reuhen tried to ignore Hicks's discomfiture. "I’m pleased to meet you. You're an author, and all, and I read . . . Well, forget that. I have to say some things to you, and then get back to work." He shook his head ruefully. "They're going to work all of us pretty hard. There's not much time."

"All of who?"

"I'd feel better talking where nobody will pay attention," Reuben said, staring steadilv at Hicks. "Please."

"The coffee shop?"

"Fine. I'm hungry, too. Can I buy you lunch? I don't have a lot of money, but I can get something cheap for both of us."

Hicks shook his head. "If you convince me you're on to something," he said, "I'll spot you lunch."

Reuben led the way to the hotel cafeteria, emptying now as the lunch hour ended. They were led to a corner booth, and this seemed to satisfy the boy's need for privacy.

"First," Hicks said, "I have to ask: Are you armed?"