as still early in the
morning. Innumerable windows looked down upon us, and a number of
doorways led into the building on all sides. From one of these a girl
stepped forward. Edvar spoke to her, evidently reporting himself and
Selda. The girl pushed several buttons on a small cabinet which hung
from her shoulder. It rang, low and silvery, twice. Then she pointed to
me.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"His name is Baret," Edvar told her. "I was sent to meet him."

"But where is he from? He is not registered."

"We don't know. It's an unusual circumstance," he explained, while the
girl examined us all carefully. "Very well," she said finally, "you must
attend him until he is registered. I'll notify Odom." Edvar nodded, and
we turned away.

Glancing back as we crossed the court, I saw the ship descending
noiselessly, on the square of pavement where it had landed, into the
depths of the building, while the girl made other gestures with her
little cabinet. Then we passed through a doorway into the subdued glow
of artificial lighting.

"Why was she so worried?" I asked Edvar. "I don't understand anything,
you know."

"You were not registered," he said. "We are all registered, of course,
in our own cities. The authorities know where to find us at any moment
of the day during our routine. If we leave the city, or depart from our
usual program, naturally we note down where we are going, registering
ourselves upon our departure and upon our return. If we visit another
city, our arrival there is expected and reported here, as well as our
departure."

"Is all that necessary?" I asked him. "Is there a war, perhaps?"

"No," he said, "it's customary. It prevents confusion. Everything we do
is recorded. This conversation, for instance, is being recorded in the
telepathic laboratory at this moment--each of us has a record there.
They are open to the public at any time. It makes dishonor impossible."

We paused at a doorway, and Edvar spoke a word. It opened noiselessly
and we went into his apartment.

"We are assigned to you this morning," Edvar said. "We are at your
service."

* * * * *

The apartment was hardly very different from what I had unconsciously
expected. It seemed to have two rooms and a bath. The room we entered
was a sort of study. It was hung with drapes closely woven from some
light metal, with cold designs that were suggestive of mechanical,
mathematic conceptions, but inspi