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.Students passed in their picturesque garments, each a small lonely cosmos exquisitely sensitive to the psychic compulsions of his environment.Alice gave her head a wistful shake and went to an information placard where the component structures of the Academy were identified: the Halls of Physical Science, Biologies, Mathematics, Human History, Anthropology and Comparative Culture, Xenology, Cosmology, Human Ideas and Arts, a dozen others.She read an informational notice addressed to visitors:Each hall consists of a number of conduits, or thematic passages, equipped with efficient pedagogical devices.The conduits are interconnected, to provide a flexible passage through any particular discipline, in accordance with the needs of the individual.The student determines his special field of interest, and is issued a chart designating his route through the hall.He moves at a rate dictated by his assimilative ability; his comprehension is continuously verified; when the end is reached he has mastered his subject.Alice proceeded to the Hall of History.Entering, she gazed in awe around the splendid lobby, which enforced upon the visitor an almost stupefying awareness of the human adventure.Under a six-inch floor of clear crystal spread a luminous map of the terrestrial surface, projected by some curious shifting means which minimized distortion.The dark-blue dome of the ceiling scintillated with constellations.Around the walls, somewhat above eye-level, ran a percept-continuum where marched a slow procession of men, women and children: straggling peasants; barbarians in costumes of feathers and leather; clansmen marching to a music of clarions and drums; heroes striding alone; prelates and sacerdotes; hetairae, flower-maidens and dancing girls; blank-faced folk in drab garments, from any of a dozen ages; Etruscans, Celts, Scythians, Zumbelites, Dagonites, Mennonites; posturing priests of Babylon, warriors of the Caucasus.At one side of the hall they appeared from a blur of fog; as they marched they turned an occasional glance out toward those who had come to visit the Hall of History; to the far side of the great room they faded into the blur and were gone.Alice went to the information desk, where she bought a catalog.Listed first were the basic routes through the conduits, then more complicated routes to encompass the aspects of special studies.Alice settled upon the basic survey course: Human History: from the origin of man to the present.She paid the three-dollar fee for noncredit transit, received a chart indicating her route through the conduits.A young man in a dark shirt immediately behind her, so she chanced to notice, elected the same course: evidently a subject popular with the students.Her route proved to be simple enough: a direct transit of Conduit 1, with whatever detours, turn-offs, loops rnto other conduits, which happened to arouse her interest.The young man in the dark shirt went on ahead.When she entered the conduit she discovered him studying the display of human precursors.He glanced at Alice and politely moved aside so that she might inspect the diorama as well.“Rough-looking thugs!” he commented in a jocular voice.“All hairy and dirty.”“Yes, quite so.” Alice moved along the diorama.The young man kept pace with her.“Excuse me, but aren’t you a starlander? From Engsten, or more likely Rampold?”“Why, yes! I’m from Rampold.How did you know?”“Just a lucky guess.How do you like Hant?”“It’s interesting, certainly.” Alice, rather primly erect, moved on along the display.“Ugh,” said Bo.“What’s that they’re eating?”“Presumably some sort of natural food,” said Alice.“I guess you’re right,” said Bo.“They weren’t too fussy in those days.Are you a student here?”“No,”“Oh, I see.Just sightseeing.”“Not exactly that either.I’m curious as to the local version of history.”“I thought history was history,” said Bo.Alice turned him a quick side-glance.“It’s hard for the historian to maintain objectivity, especially for the urban historian.”“I didn’t know there was all that much to it,” said Bo.“I thought they just showed a lot of percepts and charts.Don’t they do it the same way on Rampold?”“We have nothing quite so elaborate.”“It all amounts to the same thing,” said Bo generously.“What’s done is dead and gone, but here they call it history and study it.”Alice gave a polite shrug and moved on.Bo understood that he had struck the wrong tone, which annoyed him.Oh, why must he pussyfoot? Why must he appease? He said, “Of course I don’t know all that much about the subject.That’s why I’m here; I want to learn!”The statement was uttered in a mincing over-delicate voice which Alice found amusing, and hence worth some small exploration.“All very well, if you learn anything useful.In your case, I doubt if.” Alice let her voice trail off; why discourage the poor fellow? She asked, “I take it you’re not a student either?”“Well, no.Not exactly.”“What do you do?”“I—well, I work in the spaceyards.”“That’s useful work,” Alice said brightly.“And it’s work you can be proud of.I hope you profit from your studies.” She gave him a gracious nod and passed on down the conduit, to a percept detailing the daily activities of a Mesolithic family.Bo looked after her with a frown.He had pictured the encounter going somewhat differently, with Alice standing wide-eyed and coy, enthralled by the magnetism of his personality.He had worried only that she might recognize him, for she had seen him on two previous occasions.His fears were groundless.Evidently she had paid no attention to him.Well, she’d make up for that.And her attitude now was far too casual; she treated him as if he were a small boy.He’d fix that, as well.Bo followed her slowly along the conduit
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