Marcus wasn't surprised, but he felt annoyed. "Can't you make the change here? I don't like being shoved around." "We are not authorized to make changes. We are merely what our name implies; we have the information to direct you to the proper sources. The slip I gave you is a map of the general vicinity of the place you want. You can't get lost." "You gave me no map," snapped Marcus. The voice didn't answer him, though the finger still waved on the viewplate. He couldn't argue very well with a finger. The plate burped and a slip dropped out of the slot below it. Only then did he release the lever, allowing the finger to vanish. * * * * * Marcus studied the map. P-CAF (Planets; changes, apply for) was between M-AVO (Marriages; alternate variations of) and M-AAD (Marriages; annulment and divorce). Hastily, he stuffed the map in his pocket as Wilbur pressed the door, trying to look at what he had in his hand. It was nothing for a growing boy to see. It wasn't a good map, since it didn't show where the building was in relation to the rest of the city. The transportation tube would take him there, but he'd have to find his own way back. The tube that whisked them to P-CAF was occupied mainly by Outers, a circumstance that made the crowded uncomfortable trip more bearable. Marcus didn't talk to the others--their interests were worlds apart--but he felt closer to them than to the strange, frantic people of Earth. P-CAF was neo-drive-in classical, a style once in vogue throughout the Universe. With Wilbur following, Marcus plunged in. It seemed strange that he had come nine hundred odd light-years for a matter that, once stated, would only take a few matters of some minor official's time. And yet it was necessary. For years, he had been writing requests without results. It was not as crowded as Information Center. The booths were wider and Marcus decided they both could squeeze in. It was a historic moment: Wilbur should be present. After several trials, they did get in together. The official who came to the plate was as relaxed as the other had been harried. "Planets; changes, apply for," he said. He had perfected the art of raising one eyebrow. "That's why we're here," said Marcus, fumbling in his jacket. He was jammed against Wilbur and couldn't get his hand in his pocket. "Land masses reshaped, oceans installed, or climate recycled?" asked the official. "We don't want the climate changed," said Wilbur. "We've got lots of it--rain, hail, snow, hot weather. All in the same day--though not in the same place. It's a big planet, nearly as big as Earth." "Wilbur, I'll do the talking," declared Marcus, still struggling to reach his pocket. "Yes, Pa. But we don't want the continents reshaped. We like them as they are. And we've got enough oceans." "Wilbur," Marcus said sharply, pulling his hand free. He held up a tattered chart. "Are you sure you know what you do want?" asked the relaxed man with a yawn.