about them--about what they did or said. When he
closed his eyes and tried to compose himself the words _Out of
Control_ flashed red against the back of his eyelids, but he told
himself that this was foolish. How was one to adjudge a situation to
be Out of Control when one did not know what constituted control, over
what, or by whom? Furthermore, he rebuked himself, if the
panels--never mind how many or how forbidding--with their lights,
bells, buzzers, switches, relays, dials, gauges, styles, tapes,
pointers, rheostats and buttons had any meaning, and in fact if the
Tower itself had any meaning at all, that meaning was _Control_. How
arrogant it had been of him to imagine, even briefly, that because
he--a green intruder in that high place--had not immediately
comprehended what it was all about, the situation must be out of
control. _Absurd!_

* * * * *

There were hundreds--perhaps thousands--of little labels attached to
the control panels, presumably indicating the functions of the
buttons, switches and other controls. Dewforth leaned close and
studied these, but found only mute combinations of letters and
numbers, joined by hyphens or separated by virgules.... They made him
feel somewhat more fragile, more round-shouldered and colder, but he
resisted despair. It was getting a little darker, though. The
skimmed-milk light above him was taking on a bluish tint. He had no
way of knowing how long he had wandered among the control panels. His
time-sense had always been dependent upon clocks and bells--and upon
the arrivals and departures of trains.

It was a sound which finally led Dewforth out of the maze of control
panels.

It was not a louder sound, not more emphatic, imperative or clear than
the others; it was formless, feeble and ineffably pathetic. It was
its utter incongruity which reached Dewforth through the robotic
clamor, and which touched him ... a mewing, as of a kitten trapped in
a closet.

It came, as he discovered, from The Operator.

He was quite alone among his levers, wheels, switches, buttons,
cranks, gauges, lights, bells, buzzers, horns, ticker-tapes, creeping
scrolls, barking loudspeakers and cryptic dials. Dewforth saw him
sharply silhouetted against a long window through which bluish-gray
light poured but through which nothing could be clearly seen from
where he stood. The Operator sat on a high, one-legged stool. His head
was drawn into his shoulders, whic