In his time, Bert Alshuler, on leave in some of the cities of the Far East, and with his pockets heavy with accumulated pay that he had never expected to live to spend, had stopped in some of the most luxurious hostelries in the world, and some of the most expensive. However, he had never witnessed an apartment such as this, no matter what the tariff.

Marsh said, his voice condescending and a smirk on his face, “There are four of these. The university reserves them for V.I.P.s who visit us. The last occupant of this suite was the President.”

“The president of what?”

“The President of the United States of the Americas,” Marsh said, pompishness there. “And now, if you’ll follow me.”

He led the way to a side room, saying, “We’ve made some alterations to convert this former bedroom into a study for you. As you’ve probably become aware, it is sometimes preferable, particularly if you are consulting more than one reference at a time, to have your reference works in the old book form, when you are working on a screen connected with the National Data Banks, as a library booster.”

He gestured with his hand.

Bert said, “Jesus.”

The decor of the room was that of an English mansion’s library of the 17th or 18th centuries, up to and including a small, old-fashioned bar in a corner. It had been a long time since Bert Alshuler had made a drink himself, or had one other than that supplied by an auto-bar.

The only thing off-beat, due to its modern quality, was set in the very center of the room. It was an auto-teacher.

Marsh said, “I’ll instruct you on the mechanics of that.”

“You won’t have to. The army gave me some courses.”

“All right, but this is a bit updated.”

“Kay. When do we start?”

The professor looked at his wrist chronometer. “It is still morning. You have time for an hour or so of instruction before you will wish your mid-day meal. You can begin as soon as you’ve had your shots and pills.”