The flesh in the furnace

might wish. Or as slowly. The city had been designed both to facilitate commerce and to offer the casualness of less sophisticated eras of civilization. Though the hustle and bustle of modern living might appeal to some, it was anathema to others.Thatwas one thing that had driven so many from Earth, into the stars.
        Many restaurants had self-help menus and food delivered by robotic beltway in the walls. Some of these still had food that was edible and served it with a sense of style and culinary finesse. At least they would not starve in all this splendor.
        Most of the stores were empty. The few that contained stock were mostly those which carried nonperishable goods, things that would not decay or go out of style from year to year. There were booktapecenters stocked with classics and proven titles. There were back-projection liveart stores with hundreds of tapes in stock. The only stores with clothes were the sporting-goods houses where Arctic rigs could be purchased.
        The only life they encountered in the streets of the city were the complex maintenance robots. These came in all sizes and shapes, according to function, and were only minimally conscious. If the metal janitors noted the presence of living creatures, they cared little.
        They were safe here, safe from the authorities and the Furnace. Though the prince disagreed that it was best to settle in, he stayed with them. There was really nothing else he could do. In short order, they had established themselves in the most comfortable apartments they could find.
        Under Belina's watchful eye, Sebastian transported the Furnace frown the truck to her apartment, though he could see no reason for that now. He placed the pieces together in the familiar pattern and was dismissed.
        He was happy these days. There was a slow, eventless routine to life in the city that appealed to him.
        He woke. He ate. He dressed and walked. Sometimes he saw the puppets and sometimes he did not. In the evening, he ate with either the third suitor, the chubby one he liked, or with all of the puppets in some neighborhood restaurant or other. He saw Bitty Belina quite a lot, and if she seemed often to be trailing him as he rambled shout the city, he did not notice.
        There was only one smear on the even beauty of the first two weeks. It was the evening of the fourteenth day in the abandoned city. He had been walking, nosing through the closed shops as he had nosed through countless theaters in his years with Pertos. He was returning to his apartment, sleepy, and heard the argument in Belina's room: small voices raised in anger.
        The two loudest voices belonged to Belina and the little prince. Since the idiot didn't care for the prince and mistrusted the man, he thought immediately that Bitty Belina might be in trouble again. He remembered the prince's sword and how it had severed Wissa's head from her shoulders in so many performances. In the back of his mind, he also remembered the steel sword of Alvon Rudi which had been a danger to Bitty Belina months earlier. The two sword images mixed, fused and became one in the muddled confusion of his mind.
        "Goddamn you!" Bitty Belina squealed.
        He hesitated no longer. Grasping the handle of the door, he swung it inward, prepared to save her again as he had saved her before. He was swelled with anticipation and eagerness to prove his value to her.
        But it was not necessary.
        He stood there, feet spread wide, trying to take in the scene and understand it. There had been an argument about something, but it seemed to have been more verbal than physical. No one was injured or seemed ready to fight. No one was naked. No swords of any kind were visible, except that sheathed on the prince's side.
        All the puppets had turned to look at Sebastian as if he were responsible for their feud.
        "What the hell are you doing here?" Bitty Belina cried. She ran at him, as if she intended to pummel him with her tiny fists. "Get out of here! Get out!"
        The others scattered.
        Ashamed of his intrusion, frightened, Sebastian slammed the door and ran down the corridor toward his own room. He thought he heard a scrabbling sound behind, the door open again. He could not be sure.
        He opened the door to his own room, closed it behind and locked it. When he flopped on the bed, crying over his own stupidity, he thought he could hear Bitty