egun to become fully coherent,
again became chaotic, finally sliding off into silence and darkness.

"Are you all right, sir?"

Houston looked up from his intense concentration. The stewardess was
standing by his seat. He realized that there was a film of perspiration
on his brow, and that he probably had looked dazed while he was
concentrating on Harris's mind.

"Sure," he said quickly, "I'm all right. I'm just a little tired. Had to
get up too early to catch this plane." He rubbed his forehead. "I do
have a little headache; would you happen to have any aspirin aboard?"

She smiled professionally. "Certainly, sir. I'll get a couple of
tablets."

As she left for the first-aid cabinet, Houston thought bleakly to
himself: _Harris was framed. Possibly others have been, too. But by
whom? And why?_

He could see why a Normal might do such a thing. But why would a
Controller do it?

There was only one answer. Somewhere, there was a Controller, or a group
of Controllers who were megalomaniacs _par excellence_. If that were so,
he--or they--could make the late "Blackjack" Donnely look like a meek,
harmless, little mouse.

* * * * *

The one part of Continental U.S.A. over which the American Government
had no jurisdiction was small, areawise, in comparison with its power.
The District of the United Nations occupied the small area of Manhattan
Island which ran from 38th Street on the south to 49th Street on the
north; its western border was Third Avenue, its eastern, the East River.
From here, the UN ruled Earth.

There were no walls or fences around it; only by looking at street signs
could anyone tell that they had crossed an international border.
Crossing Third Avenue from west to east, one found that 45th Street had
suddenly become Deutschland Strasse; 40th Street became Rue de France;
47th was the Via Italiano. 43rd Street's sign was painted in Cyrillic
characters, but beneath it, in English, were the words "Avenue of Mother
Russia."

Third Avenue was technically One World Drive. Second Avenue was labelled
as Planetary Peace Drive, and First was United Nations Drive.

But New Yorkers are, and always have been, diehards. Just as The Avenue
of the Americas had forever remained Sixth Avenue, no matter what the
maps called it, so had the other streets retained their old names in
conversation.

Even the International Post Office, after years of wrangling, had given
up, and letters