dizziness from hunger, but only part. The rest was plain frightened
confusion.

They knew who I was. They'd been expecting me. They probably even knew
what I was after.

And they wanted to help!

"Let's not go into explanations now," he said, "although I'd like to
smooth away the bewilderment and fear on your face. But you need to be
fed first. Then we'll call in the others and--"

I pulled back. "What others? How do I know you're not setting up
something for me that I'll wish I hadn't gotten into?"

"Before you approached me, Mr. Weldon, you first had to decide that we
represented no greater menace than May Roberts. Please believe me, we
don't."

So he knew about that, too!

"All right, I'll take my chances," I gave in resignedly. "Where does a
guy find a place to eat in this city?"

* * * * *

It was a handsome restaurant with soft light coming from
three-dimensional, full-color nature murals that I might mistakenly
have walked into if I'd been alone, they looked so much like gardens
and forests and plains. It was no wonder I couldn't find a restaurant
or food store or truck garden anywhere--food came up through pneumatic
chutes in each building, I'd been told on the way over, grown in
hydroponic tanks in cities that specialized in agriculture, and those
who wanted to eat "out" could drop into the restaurant each building
had. Every city had its own function. This one was for people in the
arts. I liked that.

There was a glowing menu on the table with buttons alongside the
various selections. I looked starvingly at the items, trying to decide
which I wanted most. I picked oysters, onion soup, breast of guinea
hen under Plexiglas and was hunting for the tastiest and most
recognizable dessert when the pleasant little guy shook his head
regretfully and emphatically.

"I'm afraid you can't eat any of those foods, Mr. Weldon," he said in
a sad voice. "We'll explain why in a moment."

A waiter and the manager came over. They obviously didn't want to
stare at me, but they couldn't help it. I couldn't blame them, I'd
have stared at somebody from George Washington's time, which is about
what I must have represented to them.

"Will you please arrange to have the special food for Mr. Weldon
delivered here immediately?" the little guy asked.

"Every restaurant has been standing by for this, Mr. Carr," said the
manager. "It's on its way. Prepared, of course--it's been ready sinc