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y minutes before。 Small surprise。 His suit had been cleaned and pressed and was now hanging in a paper sheath provided by the dry cleaner。 Next to his were similar packages belonging to Moresby and Saltus。 His name was written across the sheath and he recognized the woman's handwriting。 He was first in： seniority。
Chaney ripped away the paper and dressed quickly； aware of the chill in the room。 The white shirt he found in the locker was a new one and he looked with some interest at the wavy； patterned collar。 Style； 1980。 The sheath was jammed back into the locker as a mocking message。
Leaving the vehicle room； Chaney strode down the well…lighted corridor to the fallout shelter； conscious of the cameras watching his every step。 The basement； the entire building； was cloaked in silence； the lab engineers would avoid contact with him as he must avoid them…but they had the advantage： they could examine a quaint specimen from two years in the past while he could only speculate on who was on the other side of the wall。 Their door was shut。 Chaney pushed the shelter door open and the overhead lights flashed on in automatic response。 The room was empty of life。
Another clock above a workbench read 8：01。
Chaney strode into the shelter to stop； turn； stare； inspect everything open to his gaze。 Except for a few new objects on the workbench the room was precisely the same as he'd last seen it； a day or two before。 He was expected。 Three tape recorders had been removed from the stores and set out on the bench； along with an unopened box of fresh tape； two still cameras designed to be worn over the shoulder were there； together with a motion picture camera for Arthur Saltus and new film for all three instruments。 Three long envelopes rested atop the cameras； and again he recognized Katrina's handwriting。
Chaney tore his open； hoping to find a personal note； but it was curiously cool and impersonal。 The envelope gave up a gate pass and identification papers bearing the date； 6 November 1980。 A small photograph of his face was affixed to the identification。 The brief note advised him not to carry arms off the station。
He said aloud： 〃Saltus； you've shut me out！〃 This evidence suggested the woman had made a choice in the intervening two years…unless he was imagining things。
Chaney prepared himself for the outside。 He found a heavy coat and a rakish cap in the stores that were good fits； then armed himself with camera； recorder； nylon film and tape。 He took from a money box what he thought would be an adequate supply of cash （there was a shiny new dime and several quarters bearing the date 1980； the portraits on the coins had not been changed）； and a drawer yielded a pen and notebook； and a flashlight that worked。 A last careful survey of the room suggested nothing else that would be useful to him； and he made ready to leave。
A clock told 8：14。
Chaney scrawled a quick note op the back of his torn envelope and propped it against the motion picture camera： Arrived early for a swim。 Will look for you laggards in town。 Protons are perfidious。
He stuffed the ID papers in his pocket and quit the shelter。 The corridor was as silent and empty as before。 Chaney climbed the stairway to the operations door and stopped with no surprise to read a painted sign。
DO NOT CARRY WEAPONS BEYOND THIS DOOR。 FEDERAL
LAW PROHIBITS THE POSSESSION OF FIREARMS
BY ALL EXCEPT LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICERS； AND
MILITARY PERSONNEL ON ACTIVE DUTY。 DISARM
BEFORE EXITING。
Chaney fitted two keys into the twin locks and shoved。 A bell rang somewhere behind him。 The operations door rolled easily on rolamite tracks。 He stepped outside into the chill of 1980。 The time was 8：19 on a bleak November morning and there was a sharp promise of snow in the air。
He recognized one of the three automobiles parked in the lot beyond the door： it was the same car Major Moresby had driven a short while ago…or two years ago…when he hustled Chaney and Saltus from the pool to the lab。 The keys were in the ignition lock。 Walking to the rear of the vehicle； he stared for a moment at the red and white license plate to convince himself he was where he was supposed to be： Illinois 1980。 Two other automobiles parked beyond the first one appeared to be newer； but the only visible change in their design appeared to be fancy grills and wheel caps。 So much for nubile taste and Detroit pandering。
Chaney didn't enter the car immediately。
Moving warily； half fearful of an unexpected meeting； he circled the laboratory building to reconnoiter。 Nothing seemed changed。 The installation was just as he remembered it： the streets and sidewalks well repaired and clean…policed daily by the troops on station…the lawns carefully tended and prepared for the approach of winter； the trees now bare of foliage。 The heavy front door was closed and the familiar black and yellow fallout shelter sign still hung above it。 There was no guard on duty。 On an impulse； Chaney tried the front door but found it locked…and that was a mentary of some kind on the usefulness of the fallout shelter below。 He continued his inspection tour all the way around again to the parking lot。
Something was changed behind the lot。
Chaney eyed the space for a moment and then recognized the difference。 What had been nothing more than a wide expanse of lawn two years ago was now a flower garden； the flowers were wilted with the nearness of winter and many of the dead blossoms and vines had been cleared away； but in the intervening two years someone…Katrina？…had caused a garden to be planted in an otherwise empty plot of grass。
Chaney left a sign for Major Moresby。 He placed a shiny new quarter on the concrete sill of the locked door。 A moment later he turned the key in the ignition and drove off toward the main gate。
The gatehouse was lighted on the inside and occupied by an officer and two enlisted men in the usual MP uniforms。 The gate itself was shut but not locked。 Beyond it； the black…topped road stretched away into the distance； aiming for the highway and the distant city。 A white line had been newly painted…or repainted…down the center of the road。
〃Are you going off station； sir？〃
Chaney turned； startled by the sudden question。 The officer had emerged from the gatehouse。
He said： 〃I'm going into town。〃
〃Yes； sir。 May I see your pass and identification？〃
Chaney passed over his papers。 The officer read them twice and studied the photograph affixed to the ID。
〃Are you carrying weapons； sir？ Are there any weapons in the car？〃
〃No； to both。〃
〃Very good； sir。 Remember that Joliet has a six o'clock curfew； you must be free of the city limits before that hour or make arrangements to stay overnight。〃
〃Six o'clock；〃 Chaney repeated。 〃I'll remember。 Is it the same in Chicago？〃
〃Yes； sir。〃 The officer stared at him。 〃But you can't enter Chicago from the south since the wall went up。 Sir； are you going to Chicago？ I will have to arrange for an armed guard。〃
〃No…no； I'm not going there。 I was curious。〃
〃Very well； sir。〃 He waved to a guard and the gate was opened。 〃Six o'clock； sir。〃
Chaney drove away。 His mind was not on the road。
The warning indicated that a part of the Indic report had correctly called the turn： the larger cities had taken harsh steps to control the growing lawlessness； and it was likely that many of them had imposed strict dusk…to…dawn curfews。 A traveler not out of town before dusk would need hotel acmodations to keep him off the streets。 But the reference to the Chicago wall puzzled him。 That wasn't foreseen； nor remended。 A wall to separate what from what？ Chicago had been a problem since the migrations from the south in the 1950s…but a wall？
The winding private road led him to the highway。 He pulled up to a stop sign and waited for a break in traffic on route 66。 Across the highway； an officer in a parked state patrol car eyed his license plate and then glanced up to inspect his face。 Chaney waved； and pulled into traffic。 The state car did not leave its position to follow him。
A second patrol car was parked at the outskirts of town； and Chaney noted with surprise that two men in the back seat appeared to be uniformed national guardsmen。 The bayonet…tipped rifles were visible。 His face and his license were given the same scrutiny and their attention moved on to the car behind him。
He said aloud （but to himself）： 〃Honest； fellas； I'm not going to start a revolution。〃
The city seemed almost normal。
Chaney found a municipal parking lot near the middle of town and had to search for the rare empty space。 He was outraged to learn it cost twenty…five cents an hour to park； and grudgingly put two of Seabrookc's quarters into the meter。 A clerk sweeping the sidewalk before a shuttered store front directed him to the public library。
He stood on the steps and waited until nine o'clock for the doors to open。 Two city squad cars passed him while he waited and each of them carried a guardsman riding shotgun beside the。； driver。 They stared at him and the clerk with the broom and every other pedestrian。
An attendant in th