"Of course." Duggan's impatience made his voice shrill. "I've used mentrols before when inspecting cave-ins and such." "Very well, sir." The man's voice was relieved. Probably he hated his job as much as Duggan hated his cigars and news. Duggan tripped the switches and heard the building hum of power. An odd sort of vibration that his mind told him was purely emotional, seemed to be permeating his whole body. Abruptly the transition was complete. He was no longer lying on the padded bench beneath the mentrol hood. He was standing erect, conscious of the retaining clamps that held him upright. He gulped a deep draught of air into the artificial lungs that did not need oxygen and his mechanical pulse quickened. His eyes slitted open, drinking in by degrees the mirrored mentrol booth and the pallid, fat, little man sitting beside his hooded body. He stepped out of the clamps, his sharpened senses aware of softness, and hardness, and scent, and color that human weakness so often blurs. This super mech that was linked directly with his brain by twin mentrols was tall, chunky and gray of eye and hair. In a general way it was a duplicate of his own body, but there was no facial resemblance. "How do you like it, sir?" The fat smile was empty, almost apologetic. "We have younger, more handsome models...." "Well enough." Duggan started donning the clothing that he had removed. "I'll want the mech for five, possibly ten, hours." "I'll make out the slip for ten hours, sir. We'll refund any balance due you. But after ten hours ..." "I know. You must report the mech missing. But with my body here you can't lose." The salesman smiled enigmatically. "We _have_," he said. Duggan shrugged. He was impatient to be outside, feasting his starved vision on the stores and parks of the various upper levels. He might even take a lift to the Outside. It had been fifteen years ago, while their youngest son was a baby, that they had taken a weekend motor trip to the great scar that had been Manhattan. He remembered the vastness and the rawness of the uncontrolled atmosphere. It had been beautiful but also a bit terrifying. It was a ten years delayed honeymoon.... And now Merle was in the rocket corps and Janith and he were like strangers. Duggan zippered shut his gray-checked jacket and left the booth. He walked slowly, savoring every picture of the crowded passenger strips beyond the walkway, and of the fairy spans of moving walkways crossing the travel strips. The soft glow of the level's ceiling, fifty feet above, illuminated the double rows of apartment and store fronts. It was good to see again. Every twelfth section of the level was a park. The greenery was fresher and brighter than he remembered; the tree boles and the branches were marvels of grace and strength. He strolled along the paths, impatient to be moving on, but aching with the emerald beauty around him....