He ordered the automatic secretary to make all suitable arrangements and then stood up. He walked to the elevator, where a soft, hissing breeze conveyed his temporary one-tenth pound relative gently up the tube to the roof. There his weight returned to its normal two pounds relative, and he spoke to the robot attendant. "My cab." His Formair Aircab was promptly and quietly delivered, and Hal stepped inside. "Destination?" a voice inquired softly from the control bank. "Take me to the nearest available Civilization Conditioning Treatment Center." At once, the cab took off. It was a silent and comfortable motion. Hal had always liked flying. The automatic pilot was speaking to him gently. "Central Authority advises that the nearest available CCT Center at this time is in the metropolis of Knoxville. This requires traversing interurban wilderness." Hal frowned just slightly. He had never seen the interurban wilderness, of course, and had not the slightest desire to do so. That was chaos. He inquired, "How soon can the local Center take me?" "Three days, seven hours twenty minutes from reference time. Mark time ... mark!" the robot announced the temporal point of reference. "Too long," Hal replied wearily. "Let's go to Knoxville. And shut off all outside views. I do not wish to see the chaos." The Aircab obediently turned and transposed through the suspend-field of the York metropolis Airdome. It was an effortless passing, since the field that constituted the wall structure of the Aircab was exactly in phase with that of the Airdome field. Both were Formair manufacture, of course. The pleasant, silent, effortless motion of the Aircab soon produced its usual somnolent effect on him, and he dozed comfortably off. He slept the entire trip. At Knoxville, he spoke to the Center Technician briefly, advising the master robot of the possibility of his altered economic status, and the matter was thoroughly checked by the computer at Central Authority. Every conceivable source of psychosomatic tension and internal conflict was studied, and suitable alterations on Hal's master curve plotted. The process took ten minutes, while Hal dozed under the soothing warmth of the examination cap. There was a crackling buzz, and it was over. He awoke immediately, and felt wonderful. No tension. No irritation. Not the slightest bit of his recent restlessness. Hal was delighted. On the way out of the cubicle, he encountered another Proprietor, and smiled at him with perfect, civilized mildness. "York," he ordered his Aircab. Once again, the sleek button-shaped vehicle soared up through the Airdome and out over the interurban wilderness. Hal contentedly went to sleep right in the middle of the pilot's automatic rundown of flight data. * * * * * He was jolted awake by a raucous rattle from the control bank. Blinking his eyes sleepily, he said, "Please stop all that noise. What is the trouble?"