"Noted?" Derrence snorted. "Why the hell don't you learn to speak English! You may have me in the palm of your hand, but you don't speak well enough to be a clerk junior grade!" "You are right. It is one of the reasons I need mental improvement." Derrence reached for his wallet. Tzadi said, "Allow me, Der, please. I feel I have upset you and caused you to have a bad lunch." Derrence had to laugh at that. He was confused, and through the confusion a strange new fear was growing, but still he had to laugh. "To put it mildly," he said, and walked away. He returned to the office without waiting for Tzadi. Mercy was at her desk, typing one of his memos. She glanced up and smiled. "Nice lunch, Mr. Cale?" He stopped. He looked at her; looked hard. "Yes." She met his gaze, eyes puzzled. _What in the world could she have on Tzadi to make him want her dead?_ "An interesting lunch, too, Mercy. I ate with your old friend, Edwin Tzadi." She dropped her eyes. "My old friend? I met him today, as you did, Mr. Cale. Did he ... did he say different?" "Yes, he said different." Her head stayed down. "What ... what did he say?" "He said you were his enemy, and my enemy." And he knew this was wrong. He was warning her, bringing the moment of his dismissal closer by seven days. And then he understood _why_ he was doing this. He didn't want seven days in which to consider killing Mercy Adrians. He was afraid of all that time. He was afraid he would learn that this job meant more to him than a young girl's life. "He said you wanted me turned in. He said that if he didn't turn me in, you would." Her head came up, slowly, until she was looking at her typewriter. She began to type. He said, "Stop that and answer me." She continued typing. Mr. Tzadi came up behind them, and passed them. He said, "Hello, Mercy, Der." Neither answered him. He stopped and looked at them. Mercy kept typing. He said, "I see you've made a serious error, Der." He said it softly, sadly. He continued on up the hall. Derrence watched him. Tzadi said hello to everyone he passed. He called them by name. They called him by name. He knew everyone and everyone knew him. The confusion was stronger, and so was the strange new fear. Everyone was a spy! Everyone on the 36th floor was in with Tzadi! And yet, Tzadi wanted him to stay on. It was Mercy, and the others, who wanted him fired. Yet how could everyone else.... He trembled. He backed from Mercy, staring at her. She kept typing. He turned and entered his office. He closed the door, and wished he could lock it. He heard himself saying, "Dear God, dear God, dear God." He sat behind his desk. Then he got up and went to the window. He looked down to the busy street far below. Cars and people; millions of them. Life, going on normally, as it always had. Why then this feeling of being alone? Why then this growing horror of total isolation?