The controller had already been figuring. He said: "Figuring the same
law-production rate that would put Rule 930 about six hundred years
from now. Is that right, Mr. Groating?"
The old man nodded and Yarr went back to his keyboard. I'm not going to
bother you with what we all went through because a lot of it was very
dull. For the benefit of the hermit from the Moon I'll just mention
that we hung around the Stability Library until we located the year
S. R. 930 was passed. Then we shifted to Stability headquarters and
quick-timed through from January 1st until we picked up the debates on
the rule.
The reasons for the rule were slightly bewildering on the one hand, and
quite understandable on the other. It seems that in the one hundred
and fifty years preceding, almost every Earth-wide university had been
blown up in the course of an atomic-energy experiment. The blow-ups
were bewildering--the rule understandable. I'd like to tell you about
that debate because--well, because things happened that touched me.
The Integrator selected a cool, smooth foyer in the Administration
Building at Washington. It had a marble floor like milky ice flecked
with gold. One side was broken by a vast square window studded with
a thousand round-bottle panes that refracted the afternoon sunlight
into showers of warm color. In the background were two enormous
doors of synthetic oak. Before those doors stood a couple in earnest
conversation--a nice-looking boy with a portfolio under his arm, and
a stunning girl. The kind with sleek-shingled head and one of those
clean-cut faces that look fresh and wind-washed.
The controller said: "Why, that's the foyer to the Seminar Room. They
haven't changed it at all in six hundred years."
Groating said: "Stability!" and chuckled.