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THE FENCECLIFFORD D. SIMAK HE came down the stairway into the hushed sanctuary of the lounge and stood fora moment to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the perpetual twilight of the place. A robot waiter went past tall glasses balanced on the tray. quotGood afternoon Mr. Craigquot he said. quotHow are you Hermanquot asked Craig. quotWill you wish something sirquot quotNo thank youquot said Craig. quotIm going out directly.quot Herman left. Craig crossed the room and he walked almost on tiptoe. He realizednow for the first time that he almost always walked on tiptoe here. The only noisethat ever was allowed was a cough and even then it must be a cough that was mostdiscreet. To have spoken to anyone within the confines of the lounge would have beenhigh treason. The ticker stood in one corner of the room and in keeping with the place itwas an almost silent ticker. The tape came out and went into a basket but the basketwas well watched and often emptied and the tape never never spilled out on the carpet. He picked up the strand of tape and ran it through his fingers bending low toread the characters backing through the alphabet until he came to C and then he wentmore slowly. Cox 108 1/2 Cotton 97 Colfield 92 Cratchfield 111 1/4 Craig 75...Craig 75 It had been 78 yesterday and 81 the day before and 83 the day before that. A monthago it had been 96 1/2 and a year ago 120. He stood with the tape in his hand and looked out over the room. The place seemedat first glance to be deserted. But as he looked he saw them. There was a baldhead peeking over the back of one chair and over the back of another rose
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