Jack winced. The roommates were competitors for the hand of Lorene Shavely, the pert brunette in the tobacco store down the street. But Ken was getting so much the better of it that it could be called competition in name only by now. "It's only about five blocks, on Gehannon Street," Jack said. "We'll be back in time." He repacked the television set in its box. "Ardex," said Ken, reading the name on the box. "Off-brand. I never heard of it before." They set out, Jack carrying the box under one arm. The set was remarkably light for its size. The street lights were coming on along Gehannon Street, for it was five o'clock on a winter afternoon. Jack bought a late edition from a newsboy on the corner. "Probably closed by now," said Ken. But it wasn't. Just past Wing Fan's Chinese laundry, Jack turned into an alley and went down a flight of concrete steps. There was a door there, leading into a basement under the Eat-A-Bite Restaurant. It was unlighted, and there were no signs there to indicate anything but that the Grove Brothers Circus, Greatest Show on Earth, was coming to town two years ago. But when they opened the battered wooden door, the light inside was like fairyland. Soft, of many changing hues, it lit a spotless expanse of floor that stretched away farther than Ken had realized the basement extended. The floor was broken by merchandise-loaded counters and gleaming machines. Here and there a clerk moved, in raiment that changed color with the light. One of the clerks approached them. He was black-eyed, black-haired and handsome, and wore a tunic and balloon trousers. "Ah, Mr. Hanshaw!" he exclaimed, recognizing Jack. "Glad to see you back again. But I see you have the--uh--television with you. Still having trouble?" "Yeah," said Jack. "The screen's no good. No picture at all." The clerk looked puzzled. "The tube couldn't be bad. It must be in the transmission facilities." "You mean the TV stations? I don't see how--" "Different methods of transmission," said the clerk hastily. "Just a minute, Mr. Hanshaw, and I'll see what our communications man can do about this." He took the box from Jack and started off. "Wait," said Jack. "Here's your newspaper." * * * * * With a smile of thanks, the man accepted the paper and disappeared into the depths of the basement store. "What's with the newspaper business?" demanded Ken. "That's part of the bargain," said Jack. "When I bought the television set, I agreed to bring him a late newspaper every time I come in the store." "Hmm. Queer setup. And what kind of funny clothes is he wearing?" "Store uniform, I guess." "Some uniform," remarked Ken, who worked in a men's clothing store. "That fabric's spun glass, I think. And some of these people in 'store uniforms' seem to be customers." Indeed, some of the perhaps two dozen people visible, all dressed like the clerk, appeared to be making purchases.