He herded me before him, and told me to wait a moment while he took care of something. He stepped to theend of a line of men and women about to enter a small booth, one of about twenty such booths. A dilating opening inthe booth admitted one person at a time.

In a few moments the line had diminished, as men went in one side wearing suits like my own grey flannel,and emerged from the other clad in odd, short jackets and skin-tight pants. The women came out in the equivalent,only tailored for the female form. They didn’t look bad at all.

Da Campo went in and quickly came out. He stepped to my side, dressed like the others, and began pushingme again.

“Had to change for work,” he commented shortly. “Come on.”

I followed him, confused. My stomach was getting more and more uneasy. I had a feeling that the twingeI’d occasionally felt in my stomach was going to develop into an ulcer.

We stepped onto an escalator-like stairway that carried us up through a series of floors where I saw morepeople—dressed like Da Campo—scurrying back and forth. “Who are they?” I asked.

Da Campo looked at me with pity and annoyance and said, “Commuters.”

“Earth is a suburb, isn’t it?” I asked.

He nodded, not looking at me.

I knew what it was all about, then. A fool would be the only one unable to see the picture after all the pieceshad been laid out so clearly. It was really quite simple:

Earth was being infiltrated. But there wasn’t any sinister invasion or displacement afoot. That wasridiculous. The only reason these aliens were on Earth was to live.

When I thought the word “alien” I looked at Da Campo. He appeared to be the same as anyone of Earth.These “aliens” were obviously exactly like us, physically. Physically.

Why were the aliens on Earth to live? Again, simple. Why does a man who works in New York City go outto Westchester after 5:00 every day? Answer: the city is too crowded. He goes to the suburbs to live quietly.“Is—uh—Drexwill crowded, Da Campo? I mean, are there a lot of people here?”