Outworld Enterprises Incorporated and bring this letter and
suitable identifications? Kennon chuckled. Would he? There was no
question about it. The address, 200 Central Avenue, was only a
few blocks away. In fact, he could see the building from his
window, a tall functional block of durilium and plastic, soaring
above the others on the street, the sunlight gleaming off its
clean square lines. He eyed it curiously, wondering what he would
find inside.

* * *

The receptionist took his I.D. and the letter, scanned them
briefly, and slipped them into one of the message tubes beside
her desk. "It will only be a moment, Doctor," she said
impersonally. "Would you care to sit down? '"

Thank you," he said. The minute, reflected, could easily be an
hour. But she was right. It was only a minute until the message
tube clicked and popped a capsule onto the girl's desk. She
opened it, and removed Kennon's I.D. and a small yellow plastic
rectangle. Her eyes widened at the sight of the plastic card.

"Here you are, Doctor. Take shaft number one. Slip the card into
the scanner slot and you'll be taken to the correct floor. The
offices you want will be at the end of the corridor to the left.
You'll find any other data you may need on the card in case you
get lost." She looked at him with a curious mixture of surprise
and respect as she handed him the contents of the message tube.

Kennon murmured an acknowledgment, took the card and his I.D.,