The lights. Watch the lights.
"Please submit any request for information here."
He was panting, and his legs felt weak.
"There is an autocar...."
It was useless. Shutting his eyes tight, he stopped.
"All right. Let's go."
"Good evening," said Mr. Third.
Sethos seated himself in a contour chair in the center of the softly lighted office. From behind a curving desk, the brain of a slender metal cylinder observed the young man before it, checked by radio with five Mr. Tenths in the space of three and one fifth seconds as to the incident's details. Then Mr. Third folded his plastic arms and studied the short brown hair and dark eyes, the lean face and straight nose. Human features always fascinated him.
"I'm the human coordinator, Sethos. You know why you're here, don't you?"