little plot of carefully tended grass. Their genteel sameness depressed
him. Unexpectedly he missed the ridiculous, clumsy, make-shift
individuality of Omegan buildings.

He reached a shopping center. The stores repeated the pattern set by the
houses. They were low, discreet, and very similar. Only a close
inspection of window displays revealed differences between a food store
and a sports shop. He passed a small building with a sign that read,
ROBOT CONFESSIONAL--_Open 24 hours a day._ It seemed to be some sort of
church.

The procedure set by Group Two for locating the underground on Earth was
simple and straightforward. Revolutionaries, he had been told, are found
in greatest quantity among a civilization's most depressed elements.
Poverty breeds dissatisfaction; the have-nots want to take from those
who have. Therefore, the logical place to look for subversion is in the
slums.

It was a good theory. The trouble was, Barrent couldn't find any slums.
He walked for hours, past neat stores and pleasant little homes,
playgrounds and parks, scrupulously tended farms, and then past more
houses and stores. Nothing looked much better or worse than anything
else.

By evening, he was tired and footsore. As far as he could tell, he had
discovered nothing of significance. Before he could penetrate any deeper
into the complexities of Earth, he would have to question the local
citizens. It was a dangerous step, but one which he could not avoid.

He stood near a clothing store in the gathering dusk and decided upon a
course of action. He would pose as a foreigner, a man newly arrived in
North America from Asia or Europe. In that way, he should be able to ask
questions with a measure of safety.

A man was walking toward him, a plump, ordinary-looking fellow in a
brown business tunic. Barrent stopped him. "I beg your pardon," he said.
"I'm a stranger here, just arrived from Rome."

"Really?" the man said.

"Yes. I'm afraid I don't understand things over here very well," Barrent
said, with an apologetic little laugh. "I can't seem to find any cheap
hotels. If you could direct me--"

"Citizen, do you feel all right?" the man asked, his face hardening.

"As I said, I'm a foreigner, and I'm looking--"

"Now look," the man said, "you know as well as I do that there aren't
any outlanders any more."

"There aren't?"

"Of course not. I've _been_ in Rome. It's just like here in Wilmington.
Same sort of houses and stores. No o