it."
"Well look—you can make friends with Canute. It isn't as though—"
"Forget it," she said sharply.
For a while they rode in silence, watching the monotonously green landscape passing below. John estimated that they had come over a thousand miles already, for the taxi had accelerated to super-jet-plane velocity and maintained it. He had yet to see a city or even a town the size of Newton. There were no roads and few fields. Only occasional shapes—octagons?—that might have been factory buildings except for their complete lack of smoke or access. Apartment houses, maybe—he had picked up mentions of these. Giant complexes of octagonal residences with shared sanitary and culinary facilities. Why the Standards should prefer to live in such constricted warrens, when all this unused countryside was available....
"I'm sorry," Betsy said. "Try asking information at what age a gomdog matures."
John shrugged and inquired.
"Eighteen years," information replied.
"Eighteen years!" John was astonished. "That's about the same as us!"
"Not surprising, if it is as intelligent as we are," Betsy said. "You can't mature in a year and know everything someone else has learned in ten or fifteen."
"But then Canute is still a puppy—his mind would be like that of an eighteen-month-old human baby. Even if he's going to be as smart as us, that's a long way off."
She nodded. "So call him a dog."
John was immensely relieved. "I'm forgetting what I started out to do!" he exclaimed. "We have to change Canute so they can't spot him anymore."
"If the scan is visual."
"It is for us. When we changed clothing and color, they didn't know us."
"We're human. An animal might have a bug implanted. Something to home in on."
"So we're human. We could still be bugged the same way. Why should they bug the dog when it's us they want in the zoo?"
She spread her hands in overelaborate bafflement. "Ask information."
But at that point they felt a shift in course. They were coming down—to the coordinate of the third zoo? They exchanged glances, but neither cared to suggest what they might encounter there.
The Walled City of Wei
John spotted it first. "That's no American town! It's a walled city!"
Betsy looked. "That's Wei!" she exclaimed. "Pei's city! What a coincidence!"
"One chance in five," John pointed out. "Really, one chance in two, since we're obviously not heading for your place or mine or Ala's. So it was really an even bet that we'd strike pay dirt—if the coordinates meant anything." He looked again. "And I guess they did."
"Oh, shut up. Your reasoning is ludicrous." But she remained pleased. John decided that Yao Pei and his residence must have made a strong impression on her, and he felt a tinge of jealousy.
"Why don't you call him by his first name?" he inquired.
"Pei is his first name. His given name, I mean. The surname comes first, in China."
John contemplated the massive brick ramparts, the tall corner towers, and the handsome tiered roofs of the enclosed buildings. This city was formidable and beautiful. No wonder it had impressed her.
For a moment he was afraid the taxi would land outside the wall, because they were coming in very low. The barrier was a good twenty-five feet tall, surrounded by a moat, and almost as thick as it was high, to judge from the depth of the main gate. The top was crenellated, providing excellent cover for riflemen—no, archers, he corrected himself—and the great gates seemed impervious. But they passed over and dropped at last into a central park. No need to storm the bastion!
But why hadn't the Standards installed some kind of electronic warning system, to prevent twenty-fourth-century taxis from straying onto these secret premises? Had John been running the show....
John and Betsy looked at each other again, and he realized that he was running a show of his own—and had planned no better for it. "We can't just walk in," Betsy whispered, as though her voice could betray them. "I
"Well look—you can make friends with Canute. It isn't as though—"
"Forget it," she said sharply.
For a while they rode in silence, watching the monotonously green landscape passing below. John estimated that they had come over a thousand miles already, for the taxi had accelerated to super-jet-plane velocity and maintained it. He had yet to see a city or even a town the size of Newton. There were no roads and few fields. Only occasional shapes—octagons?—that might have been factory buildings except for their complete lack of smoke or access. Apartment houses, maybe—he had picked up mentions of these. Giant complexes of octagonal residences with shared sanitary and culinary facilities. Why the Standards should prefer to live in such constricted warrens, when all this unused countryside was available....
"I'm sorry," Betsy said. "Try asking information at what age a gomdog matures."
John shrugged and inquired.
"Eighteen years," information replied.
"Eighteen years!" John was astonished. "That's about the same as us!"
"Not surprising, if it is as intelligent as we are," Betsy said. "You can't mature in a year and know everything someone else has learned in ten or fifteen."
"But then Canute is still a puppy—his mind would be like that of an eighteen-month-old human baby. Even if he's going to be as smart as us, that's a long way off."
She nodded. "So call him a dog."
John was immensely relieved. "I'm forgetting what I started out to do!" he exclaimed. "We have to change Canute so they can't spot him anymore."
"If the scan is visual."
"It is for us. When we changed clothing and color, they didn't know us."
"We're human. An animal might have a bug implanted. Something to home in on."
"So we're human. We could still be bugged the same way. Why should they bug the dog when it's us they want in the zoo?"
She spread her hands in overelaborate bafflement. "Ask information."
But at that point they felt a shift in course. They were coming down—to the coordinate of the third zoo? They exchanged glances, but neither cared to suggest what they might encounter there.
The Walled City of Wei
John spotted it first. "That's no American town! It's a walled city!"
Betsy looked. "That's Wei!" she exclaimed. "Pei's city! What a coincidence!"
"One chance in five," John pointed out. "Really, one chance in two, since we're obviously not heading for your place or mine or Ala's. So it was really an even bet that we'd strike pay dirt—if the coordinates meant anything." He looked again. "And I guess they did."
"Oh, shut up. Your reasoning is ludicrous." But she remained pleased. John decided that Yao Pei and his residence must have made a strong impression on her, and he felt a tinge of jealousy.
"Why don't you call him by his first name?" he inquired.
"Pei is his first name. His given name, I mean. The surname comes first, in China."
John contemplated the massive brick ramparts, the tall corner towers, and the handsome tiered roofs of the enclosed buildings. This city was formidable and beautiful. No wonder it had impressed her.
For a moment he was afraid the taxi would land outside the wall, because they were coming in very low. The barrier was a good twenty-five feet tall, surrounded by a moat, and almost as thick as it was high, to judge from the depth of the main gate. The top was crenellated, providing excellent cover for riflemen—no, archers, he corrected himself—and the great gates seemed impervious. But they passed over and dropped at last into a central park. No need to storm the bastion!
But why hadn't the Standards installed some kind of electronic warning system, to prevent twenty-fourth-century taxis from straying onto these secret premises? Had John been running the show....
John and Betsy looked at each other again, and he realized that he was running a show of his own—and had planned no better for it. "We can't just walk in," Betsy whispered, as though her voice could betray them. "I
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