Danniels got in. The driver was a teen-ager in a loose scarlet tunic and a spangled W.P.A. cap. The youth wouldn't have been bad-looking except for a sullen expression and a rather girlish turn of cheek, completely devoid of beard line. Danniels wrote him off as a prospective member of the Wolf Pack in a year or two. But not just yet, he fervently hoped. "Going far? I'm not," said the driver. Danniels adjusted the knees of his trousers. "I'm going to--near where Chicago used to be." "Huh?" Danniels had forgotten the youth of his companion. "I mean I'm going to where you can't go any further." The driver nodded smugly, relieved that the threat to the vastness of his knowledge had been dismissed. "I get you, Pop. I guess I can take you close to where you're headed." They rode on in silence, both relieved that they didn't have to try to span the void between age and position with words. "You aren't anywhere near starvation, are you?" the driver said suddenly, uneasy. "No," Danniels said. "Anyway I've got money." "Woodrow Wilson! I'll pull in at the next joint." * * * * * The next joint was carved out of the flat cross-section of hill that looked unmistakably like a strip ridge of a Colorado copper mine, but wasn't ... even barring the fact that this was Illinois. The rectangle of visible dinner was color-fused aluminum from between No. Two and Korea. Danniels was glad to get into the shockingly cold air-conditioning. It was constant, if unhealthy. The chugging unit in the car failed a heartbeat every now and then for a sickening wave of heat. The two of them pulled up wire chairs to a linoleum-top table in a mirrored corner. A faint purple hectographed menu was stuck between appropriately colored plastic squeeze bottles labeled MUSTARD and BLOOD. Danniels knew what the menu would say but he unfolded it and checked. _Steaks_ Plankton .90 Juicy, rich-red tantalizing hamburger .17 _Accessories_ Mashed potatoes .40 Delectable oysters, all you can eat .09 Peas .35 Rich, fragrant cheese, large slice .02 _Drinks_ Coke .50 Milk, the forbidden wine of nature .01 Coffee (without) .50 Coffee (with) .02 A fat girl in white came to the table. Danniels tossed the menu on the table. "I'll take the meat dinner," he said. The teen-ager stared hard at the table top. "So will I." "Good citizens," the waitress said, but the revulsion crept into her voice over the professional hardness. Danniels looked carefully at his companion. "You aren't used to ordering meat." "Pop," the youth began. Danniels waited to be told that being short of cash was none of his business. "Pop, on my leg. Kill it, kill it!" Danniels leaned over the table startled and curious. A cockroach was feeling its way along a thin meridian of vari-colored jeans. Danniels pinched it up without injuring it and deposited it on the floor. It scurried away.