Again the lights bathed the Quizz Master with their brilliance. This time the young man was joined by two others--one a rather stout, partly bald gentleman with old-fashioned rim-glasses, the other a younger, more robust looking fellow with a shock of iron-gray hair. “Well, well, here we are again! And here, Ladies and Gentlemen, are our contestants. I hardly need introduce our Incumbent to you--forty-nine weeks undefeated. Here he is--_Charles Monroe!_” The little stout man stepped forward and took a bow. The applause was thunderous in the vast hall. Then Monroe nervously fingered his rim-glasses and returned to his place. “And here, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have this week’s Challenger, Mr. _James Burton!_” The applause was almost as deafening. Burton stepped forward and waved confidently to the multitude. Bob May quickly interposed: “Folks! You all know how The Quizz is held--and how important it is. You remember that Mr. Monroe’s category is _Philately_--and he certainly has shown us that there’s little he doesn’t know about postage stamps!” He turned purposefully to Burton. His voice was tense with excitement as it rang out in the hushed auditorium: “And now, Mr. Burton, will you tell us--_what is your category?_” A gaudy, multi-colored panel of many category listings suddenly blazed on across the back of the stage. Burton slowly turned and regarded the panel. The huge auditorium was whisper-silent. Then Burton said: “_The Planet Mars!_” Bob May fairly jumped off the stage in his tempestuous excitement. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Our Challenger picks as his quizz category--_The Planet Mars!_” The audience roared its delight. “All right! You both know what to expect. The questions in your respective categories are selected by our own Univac Cybernetic Brain. No human being knows what they will be until _I_ ask you the questions! Are you ready?” Monroe swallowed nervously and adjusted his funny spectacles. He nodded. Burton answered: “Yes, sir, Mr. May!” “Good! As you know each one of you will be asked questions of increasing difficulty--until one of you misses! The survivor is the winner! But just so that you will have no outside disturbances--or help--” he waved a waggish finger at them--“you’ll be enclosed in the special Force-Field. Nothing can penetrate, no light, no sound, no telepathic prompting! We can all see you, but you can’t see us. That should be a comfort!” He laughed uproariously at his own joke. “Only _I_ can talk to you through my special communicator. But we can all hear your answers. And now--are you ready?” Both contestants nodded. “Here we go, then! But first....”