The woman nodded, her black eyes curiously frightened. "This is the amusement center. The yellow building housed the Tri-World Theatre." "But I don't understand...." Ileth gazed helplessly at Saxon. "What is a reproduction of New York II doing here on a planet in the Alpha Centaurian system? We're over four light years from Sol. No one's ever been here before." Saxon was conscious of bewilderment and fear muddling the girl's thoughts. His own mind couldn't quite grasp the fact that here was an exact replica of a Terran city. It was inexplicable. It didn't make sense. And, more than that, it was impossible! He could read the same thoughts struggling against the fact in the minds of the others. He said, "Let's see what the buildings are like inside." "Yes," agreed Ileth. She had edged close to Saxon. "Maybe we can find the answer inside." They started for the impressive entrance of the Tri-World Theatre, halted again in near-panic as the doors swung wide. Ileth gasped, clutched at Saxon's arm, hanging onto it in desperation. Before any of them could say anything, a voice blared forth. "... a thousand Ganymedian natives in the primitive ritualistic orgy of that Weird little satellite. Hamura in the mating dance of the Ganymedians. Seats: three hundred and seventy-five dollars." Clo-Javel's voice had lost its rich huskiness. It was a frightened quaver when she said, "It's a working model. Automatic, don't you see?" She giggled nervously, and paused. "But the voice?" protested Ileth. "Advertising," explained the archaeologist. "It's a mechanical voice, like the doors." "Well, I'm not sure how much a dollar was," said Mercedes, "but three hundred and seventy-five for a seat seems rather exorbitant." Rufus, the psycho-historian, was pale as a corpse. He swallowed, managed to splutter, "Inflation that followed the first atomic war. Inflation...." His voice trailed off as he stared beyond the gaping doors into the foyer of the empty theatre. "Well, I'm not going in that place!" said the ethnologist suddenly. He was a goat-bearded little dandy. It was his first speech in some time. Rufus, the psycho-historian, said, "I don't think I care to either." "Nonsense!" exploded Mercedes. "There isn't anything in there. You can see for yourself. I'm going in." "I think we should explore the city a bit further," Rufus protested. He glanced uneasily toward the helicopter. Basil and his helper were nowhere in sight. Mercedes said, "Humph," gave her plump shoulders a shake, disappeared with short sturdy steps through the door. "She shouldn't go in there alone," said Saxon starting after her. Ileth clung to his arm. "I'm coming along." They left the others standing huddled outside, watching them nervously. * * * * * The foyer was carpeted ankle deep in mauve. Life-like, three-dimensional photographs of actors and actresses in every conceivable costume from none at all to the cumbersome furs of Titan lined the walls.