The robot clerk looked up, smiling and patient, as he entered. It could afford to be patient. There was no place it wanted to be other than where it was at the moment. "Can I help you?" "Passage to Earth," said Jadiver. The clerk consulted the schedule. That was pretense. The schedule and not much else had been built into its brain. "There's an orbit flight in two weeks." In two weeks, Jadiver could be taken, tried, and converted ten times over. "Isn't there anything sooner?" "There's an all-powered flight leaving tomorrow, but that's for Earth citizens only." "Suits me. Book me for it." "Be glad to," said the robot. "Passport, please." * * * * * It was going to cost more than just the fare, Jadiver knew. He would arrive on Earth with very little money and could expect to start all over. He was no longer fresh out of training, willing to start at the bottom. He was a mature man, experienced beyond the ordinary, and most organizations he could work for would be suspicious of that. But it was worth it, aside from the escape. No future for him there, jammed in on a crowded world, but it was his planet, always would be, and he wouldn't mind going back. "Sorry," said the clerk, flipping over the passport and studying it. "I can't book you. The flight's only for Earth citizens." "I was born there," Jadiver impatiently said. "Can't you see?" "You were?" asked the robot eagerly. "I was built there." It handed him back the passport. "However, it doesn't matter where you were born. You've been here three years without going back. Automatically, you became a citizen of Venus two and a half years ago." Jadiver hadn't known that. He doubted that many did. It was logical enough. Earth was overflowing and the hidden citizenship clause was a good way of getting rid of the more restless part of the population and making sure they didn't come back. "There's still the orbit flight," said the clerk, smiling and serene. "For that you need a visitor's visa, which takes time. Shall I make the arrangements?" Aside from the time element, which was vital, he couldn't tip the police off that he intended to leave. "Thanks," he said, taking the passport. "I'll call back when I make up my mind." Down the street was another interplanetary flight office and he wandered into it. It might have been the same office he had just left, robot and all. "Information on Mars," he said, his manner casual. The clerk didn't bother to consult the schedule. There was a difference, after all. "There'll be an orbit flight in four months," it said pleasantly. "Rate, four-fifths of the standard fare to Earth." Nothing was working out as expected. "What about the moons of Jupiter?" This was the last chance. "Due to the position of the planets, for the next few months there are no direct flights anywhere beyond Mars. You have to go there and transfer." That escape was closed. "I can't make plans so far in advance."