Evening rush hour in Bu-Tse, the capital city of Kerr's Trio, was as hectic as rush hour in any other major city in human space. Try as they might; city planners had never figured out a way to eliminate the mass exodus of office workers into the transit system at the beginning and end of the business day. At some point-or another, urban planners had tried any number of strategies to decentralize the business district, to stagger work hours, to facilitate telecommuting none to any lasting effect. Centuries of complaints to the

contrary, neither the employers nor the work force really wanted to change what had apparently become as fixed a pattern as the alternation of day and night.

But while the-dark-haired woman getting off the BuTse slideway with two huge grocery bags at the Dedisco loop was almost certainly unaware of the history behind her crowded ride home, she w~ by no means reconciled to it. She stalked up to the nondescript apartment building at the comer, elbowed her way into the gravshaft, and glared at her fellow denizens of the Dedisco Towers as they rose through the shaft together. There was an audible sigh of relief as she swung off on the fifth level and stomped down the hallway to her apartment door.

She palmed the lock, bustled through the door, and headed for the kitchen. From the living room came the sound of a tri-vee set turned to a gravball game. She ignored it and noisily dumped the bags on the kitchen table. From the other room came a male voice: "Lola?" She ignored that, too, muttering angrily as she began to unload the bags.

"Lola, you better come in here," said the voice, louder this time.

"Wait a minute," she barked. Schmuck can't even come out and talk to me, let alone help, she thought darkly. I ought to make him get his own meals.