Basil Wells, who lives in Pennsylvania, writes that he has been doingresearch concerning the keelboat age prior to and following the War of1812 on the "locally famous section of portage-keelboat-rafting stream fromWaterford down to Pittsburgh," turning from this to this grimmer future.
Then his hand caught an arm and heexerted his full strength. The entirearm tore away from its shoulder....
His fingers moved overthe modest packet of bills theinvisible rockhound had handedto him. He smiled throughthe eternal night that was hisown personal hell. Duggan'sHades.
"Thanks, Pete," he saidgratefully. "Here, have a boxof Conmos."
His sensitized fingersfound the cigars, handed overa box, and he heard the nervousscuff of the other'sshoes.
"This eight thousand meansI can see again—for a whileat least. Take 'em! It's littleenough."
"Look, Duggan. I get eighthundred for selling you theticket on the breakthroughtime. Keep the cigars. Youneed the dough."
Feet pounded, thumpinginto swift inaudibility alongthe 10th Level's yieldingwalkway. His fingers caressedthe crisp notes that his luckyguess on the 80th Level's tunneljuncture had won for him,plus the ten dollars, that thismeager business could ill afford,it had cost to join therockhounds' pool....
But now he was free. Hisown man. He was releasedfrom the calculated economiesof his wife. Janith knewto within a few dollars whathis newsstand on the 10thLevel should make. He hadnever been able to save thenecessary thousand dollar deposit,and ten dollars an hour,that a rented super mechcost. And she would neverlisten to his pleas that hemust see again—if only for anhour....
"Waste ten or twenty dollarsfor nothing," she wouldstorm. "We have all your hospitalbills to pay. I need newclothes. Your stock in thestands is too small."
What she left unspokenwas the fact that she mustsecretly have hated his engineeringcareer in the deeplevels under Appalachia, andthat she was dedicated to preventinghis possible return....
After three years of blindness,under his wife's firmdominance, Duggan felt onlyhate for her. With this suddenfortune he could be independent.He could divorceher. He could rent a supermech—even return to work inthe ever-deepening levels ofAppalachia City!
First of all he must seeagain.
He closed up the news-and-cigarstand. With his cane'ssensitive radar button pulsatingbeneath his fingers hehurried along the walkway towardthe nearest super mechshowroom. It was less thanthree blocks....
"Be sure that all the contactsare against the skulland neck," the salesmanwas saying, his voice muffledby the mentrol hood coveringDuggan's head and shoulders.
"Of course." Duggan's impatiencemade his voiceshrill. "I've used mentrols beforewhen inspecting cave-insand such."
"Very well, sir." The man'svoice was relieved. Probablyhe hated his job as much asDuggan hated his cigars andnews.
Duggan tripped the switchesand heard the buildinghum of power. An odd sortof vibration that his mindtold him was purely emotional,seemed to be permeatinghis whole body.
Abruptly the transitionwas complete. He was nolonger lying on the paddedbench beneath the mentrolhood. He was standing erect,conscious of the retainingclamps that held him upright.
He gulped a deep draughtof air into the artificial lungsthat did not need oxygen andhis mechanical pulse quickened.
His eyes slitted open,drinking in by degrees themirrored