“Translation, “ he said simply, and went back to his paper.

I suddenly became furious. Here I was lost in a subway, going—if I was to believe what I had been told—somewhere called Drexwill. I was late for the office, and this thing had overtones that were only now beginning toshade in with any sort of logic. A mad sort of logic, but logic nonetheless.

And the only person I knew here was reading his newspaper as though my presence was a commonplacething.

“Da Campo!” I screamed, knocking the weird newspaper out of his hands. Heads turned in annoyance. “Dosomething! Get me off this goddamed thing!”

I grabbed his coat lapel, but he slapped my hand away.

“Look, Weiler, you got yourself into this, you’ll just have to wait till we hit the Depot and we can fish out anAuditor to help you.

“I’m just a lousy businessman; I can’t handle anything as snarled as this. This is government business, andit’s your headache, not mine. I have to be at work…”

I wasn’t listening. It all shaded in properly. I saw the picture. I didn’t know where I was going, or what itwas like there, but I knew why Da Campo was on this train, and what he’d been doing in my town.

I wanted to cry out because it was so simple.

I wanted to cry because it was so simply terrifying.

The train slowed, braked, and came to a hissing halt, without lurching. The doors opened and the manycommuterly-dressed people who had been crowded into the car began to stream out. The entire trip couldn’t havetaken more than twenty minutes.

Then I thought of that “translation” and I wasn’t so sure of my time estimate.

“Come on,” said Da Campo, “I’ll get you to an Auditor.” He glanced down at his wrist, frowning at the dialof a weirdly-numeraled watch. He whistled through his teeth for a moment, as the crowd pushed out. Then he shovedme after them resignedly. “Let’s hurry,” he said, “I haven’t much time.”