His guide nodded appreciatively at the visitor's girth. "You will find, as you grow accustomed to plenty, that even moderation has its pleasures. But I will not make sermons. Have you enjoyed the weather?" "Just the right amount of zip. Your engineers are geniuses." "Our schools and hospitals, our roads and public buildings?" "In all those things, you are the paragon of the galaxy. And the private homes that I have seen are models of restrained munificence." "They were selected at random." "Of course, I knew long before my visit that your artists and scientists...." "Virtually the whole population," his guide put in. "--are without peer." "And yet you deny us the title of Utopia?" "Utopia? Never!" the visitor said adamantly. "There's always a worm in the rose. I just have not found it yet, but it's there. Injustice is a part of human nature." "What a shame! I had hoped that you would accept full citizenship." "Full cit--" the visitor gasped, letting his 280 pounds settle slowly onto a teakwood park bench. "Yes. But since...." "Show me the papers." "But as a representative of the Federation?" "I renounce Federation citizenship. What do I sign?" "Here. And here. And here. Good." He tucked the papers into a small leather carrying case. "It seems to me that, with so permissive an immigration policy, New Katanga will soon be overrun." "On the contrary, exclusivity would be unjust and, in the long run, unprofitable. A society always can use fresh blood. Besides, we have a stable population rate, all things considered." "Well, I feel like celebrating." "Why don't we take in the matinee performance at the Auditorium then. Admission, like everything else in Utopia, is free. The performances are quite hair-raising, something on the order of the Roman _Circus_, I'm told." The new citizen raised an eye-brow. "In Utopia?" "It's a healthy outlet for our small aggressions." They walked up the marble staircase to the Grand Circle. "Would you wait for me a few minutes in my box? I have some things to attend to." * * * * * The visitor entered the box through a great door, heavily crusted with gold. His seat afforded him an excellent view of the arena. All the Utopians in the tiers above and across from his box stopped chattering and turned, as one man, to gaze at him. The new citizen recognized several women of recent acquaintance and waved to them. They waved back. One kissed her sheer gobbler-fleece scarf and threw it toward him. It billowed in the warm air of the auditorium and sank gracefully to the floor of the arena. There was restrained applause. The lights dimmed. The entrance-gates at the far end of the arena opened with a clank. The gobblers bounded out with that curious, lithe motion so strange in creatures of their bulk. They circled the arena and came to a stop underneath the new citizen's box, where, lips pressed back from their terrible fangs, they mewled softly.