"Oh, eat your soup! Well, it got hard for the European leaders to keep their people satisfied with their poverty but there were still plenty of ugly things here they could point to. Then Farbenstein came along with his Probe, and the Constitution was amended to adopt the Ascension Code--and a lot of things changed." * * * * * By this time H.D. had finished his soup, and Dr. Lorraine took his plate away and flipped the switch above him that lowered the head of his bed. H.D. objected testily. "I don't _want_ to lie down! Quit that, will you. What about this confounded Code?" The doctor shook her head. "Sorry, it's time for your nap now." "_Nap!_ Are you out of your mind? Millions of questions! I'm not the least bit sleepy!" This was a lie. There must have been something in the soup, because his eyelids were becoming very, very heavy. "Well, you can't argue with a woman," he complained peevishly. "Who ever heard of a woman doctor--a pretty woman doctor...?" Dr. Lorraine did something to a lever, and the room darkened. H.D. awoke refreshed and full of vigor, the conversation with Dr. Lorraine fresh and clear in his mind. He jumped out of bed, and stumbled, cursing, around in the dark until he finally figured out where the light would be. He pushed a lever above the head of his bed, the first of several in a panel, and light filled the room, varying in strength with the position of the lever. He did not see the source. The room was unremarkable in appearance, although he could not identify the smooth, creamy, _soft_ material of the walls. Of two doors the outer, to his cursing disgust, was locked. The other opened into a Rube Goldberg bathroom. After admiring the array of buttons, switches, cranes and slings, after a little cautious experimentation, H.D. saw that the design was intended to permit cripples the luxury of a real bath and toilet. Wandering back into the bedroom, he idly fiddled with the other levers in the wall panel with no perceptible results until the last. Then the entire end wall vanished and he was looking at Chicago. At where Chicago should have been, at any rate--he could hardly have said what he expected but what he saw was merely a jungle. From what seemed a considerable height he could make out little detail in the mass of growing things. He could see no other tall buildings, but he was looking toward the lake and his view was limited. As he strained his eyes he could see a little of bright winding paths, and graceful little houses buried in greenery and blossom. No movement caught his eye. These people must conduct their business elsewhere, he thought--underground, perhaps, leaving the surface for leisure and recreation. Garden City indeed! Life must be pleasant here--and it would soon be his! He fairly itched to make his mark on this Brave New World.