This building was tremendous andmisshapen. He counted seven distinct levels within it, one layered atopanother, and above the last fiber-clothed story metal rods projected like theribs of a dead cow. Behind it was another structure, of similar configuration,and beyond that a third.

      He contemplated these, amazed. He had readabout such a thing in the old books, but he had half believed it was a myth.This was a "city."

      Before the Blast, the texts had claimed,mankind had grown phenomenally numerous and strong, and had resided in citieswhere every conceivable (and inconceivable) comfort of life was available. Theathese fabulously prosperous peoples had destroyed it all in a rain of fire, asmash of intolerable radiation, leaving only the scattered nomads and craziesand underworlders, and the extensive badlands.

      He could poke a thousand logical holes inthat fable. For one thing, it was obvious that no culture approaching thetechnological level described would be at the same time so primitive as tothrow it away so pointlessly. And such a radically different culture as that ofthe nomads could not- have sprung full-blown from ashes. But he was sure theultimate truth did lie hidden somewhere within the badlands, for their verypresence seemed to vindicate the reality of the Blast, whatever its true cause.

      Now, astonishingly, these badlands wereready to yield some of their secrets. For the century since the cataclysm noman had penetrated far into the posted regions and lived-but always theproscribed area declined. He knew the time would come, though not in hislifetime, when the entire territory would be open once more to man. Meanwhilethe fever of discovery was on him; he was so eager to learn the truth that he gladlyrisked the roentgen.