After gazing furtively over his shoulder to see that no females were watching, Carpenter approached a large map of the landing field and pressed a button. A tiny red light winked demurely for an instant. "That's the nearest one," Carpenter explained. * * * * * Inside a small, white, functional-looking building unobtrusively marked "Feeding Station," Carpenter showed Michael where to insert a two-credit piece in a slot. A door slid back and admitted Michael into a tiny, austere room, furnished only with a table, a chair, a food compartment, and an advideo. The food consisted of tabloid synthetics and was tasteless. Michael knew that only primitive creatures waste time and energy in growing and preparing natural foods. It was all a matter of getting used to this stuff, he thought glumly, as he tried to chew food that was meant to be gulped. A ferret-eyed Yeddan appeared on the advideo. "Do you suffer from gastric disorders? Does your viscera get in your hair? A horrid condition, but swift abolition is yours with Al-Brom from Altair." Michael finished his meal in fifteen minutes and left the compartment to find Carpenter awaiting him in the lobby, impatiently glancing at the luminous time dial embedded in his wrist. "Let's go to the Old Town," he suggested to Michael. "It will be of great interest to a student and a newcomer like yourself." A few yards away from the feeding station, the travel agents were lined up in rows, each outside his spaceship, each shouting the advantages of the tour he offered: "Better than a mustard plaster is a weekend spent on Castor." "If you want to show you like her, take her for a week to Spica." "Movid stars go to Mars." Carpenter smiled politely at them. "No space trips for us today, gentlemen. We're staying on Terra." He guided the bewildered young man through the crowds and to the gates of the field. Outside, a number of surface vehicles were lined up, with the drivers loudly competing for business. "Come, take a ride in my rocket car, suited to both gent and lady, lined with luxury _hukka_ fur brought from afar, and perfumed with rare scents from Algedi." "Whichever movid film you choose to view will be yours in my fine cab from Mizar. Just press a button--it won't cost you nuttin'--see a passionate drama of long-vanished Mu or the bloodhounds pursuing Eliza." "All honor be laid at the feet of free trade, but, whatever your race or your birth, each passenger curls up with two dancing girls who rides in the taxi from Earth." "Couldn't we--couldn't we walk? At least part of the way?" Michael faltered. Carpenter stared. "Walk! Don't you know it's forbidden to walk more than two hundred yards in any one direction? Fomalhautians never walk." "But they have no feet." "That has nothing whatsoever to do with it." * * * * *