'You are hereby ordered to investigate the word woggle, following Plan No. ST-LIN-476 unless you have received an order with a higher priority number. Ir either case, you will reply to this letter not later than 12th Fertility, 550 B.S.'

Hal ran the letter to the end. Fortunately, the other three words had lower priority. He did not have to accomplish the impossible: investigate all four at once.

But he would have to leave in the morning after reporting to Olvegssen. Which meant not even bothering to unpack his stuff, living for days in the clothes he was wearing, perhaps not having time to have them cleaned.

Not that he did not wish to get away. It was just that he was tired and wished to rest before going on this trip.

What rest? he asked himself after removing the goggles and looking at Mary.

Mary was just getting up from her chair after turning off the tridi. She was now bending over to pull a drawer from the wall. He saw that she was getting out their nightclothes. And, as he had for many a night now, he felt sick in his stomach.

Mary turned and saw his face. 'What's the matter?' she said.

'Nothing.'

She walked across the room (only a few steps to traverse the length of the chamber, reminding him of how many steps he could take when he was on the Preserve). She handed him a crumpled-up mass of tissue-thin garments and said, 'I don't think Olaf had them cleaned. It's not his fault, though. The deionizer isn't working. He left a note saying he called a technician. But you know how long it takes them to fix anything.'

'I'll fix it myself, when I get time,' he said. He sniffed at the nightclothes. 'Great Sigmen! How long has the cleaner been out?'