climbed to ten billion, and there it stayed for the last eight thousand
years. Just enough of us to enjoy our planet and the other planets of
the system to the fullest; enough of everything for everybody that
nobody needs fight anybody for anything. We've tapped the resources of
those other worlds on other time-lines, a little here, a little there,
and not enough to really hurt anybody. We've left our mark in a few
places--the Dakota Badlands, and the Gobi, on the Fourth Level, for
instance--but we've done no great damage to any of them."

"Except the time they blew up half the Southern Island Continent, over
about five hundred parayears on the Third Level," Tortha Karf mentioned.

"Regrettable accident, to be sure," Verkan Vall conceded. "And look
how much we've learned from the experiences of those other time-lines.
During the Crisis, after the Fourth Interplanetary War, we might have
adopted Palnar Sarn's 'Dictatorship of the Chosen' scheme, if we
hadn't seen what an exactly similar scheme had done to the Jak-Hakka
Civilization, on the Second Level. When Palnar Sarn was told about
that, he went into paratime to see for himself, and when he returned,
he renounced his proposal in horror."

Tortha Karf nodded. He wouldn't be making any mistake in turning his
post over to the Mavrad of Nerros on his retirement.

"Yes, Vall; I know," he said. "But when you've been at this desk as long
as I have, you'll have a sour moment or two, now and then, too."

* * * * *

A blue light flashed over one of the booths across the room. Verkan Vall
got to his feet, removing his coat and hanging it on the back of his
chair, and crossed the room, rolling up his left shirt sleeve. There
was a relaxer-chair in the booth, with a blue plastic helmet above it.
He glanced at the indicator-screen to make sure he was getting the
indoctrination he called for, and then sat down in the chair and lowered
the helmet over his head, inserting the ear plugs and fastening the chin
strap. Then he touched his left arm with an injector which was lying on
the arm of the chair, and at the same time flipped the starter switch.

Soft, slow music began to chant out of the earphones. The insidious
fingers of the drug blocked off his senses, one by one. The music
diminished, and the words of the hypnotic formula lulled him to sleep.

He woke, hearing the lively strains of dance music. For a while, he lay
relaxed. Then he snapped