Suzanne was proud of the apartment. It had all the modern conveniences, like the needle shower with the perfume dispenser, the built-in soft-drink bar in the library, the all-communications set, and the electrical massager. It was a nice, comfortable setup, an illusion of security in an ever-changing world.

She lit a cigarette and chuckled. Mrs. Burger, the fat old landlady, thought she kept up the apartment by working as a buyer for one of the downtown stores.

Well, maybe some day she would.

But not today. And not tonight.

The phone rang and she answered in a casual tone. She talked for a minute, then let a trace of sultriness creep into her voice. The conversation wasn\'t long.

She let the receiver fall back on the base and went into the bedroom to get a hat box. She wouldn\'t need much; she\'d probably be back that same night.

It was a nice night and since the address was only a few blocks away, she decided to walk it. She blithely ignored the curious stares from other pedestrians, attracted by the sharp, clicking sound of her heels on the sidewalk.

The address was a brownstone that looked more like an office building than anything else, but then you could never tell. She pressed the buzzer and waited a moment for the sound to echo back and forth on the inside. She pressed it again and a moment later a suave young man appeared in the doorway.

"Miss Carstens?"

She smiled pertly.

"We\'ve been expecting you."

She wondered a little at the "we," but dutifully smiled and followed him in.

The glare of the lights inside the office blinded her for a moment. When she could focus them again, her smile became slightly blurry at the edges and then disappeared entirely. She wasn\'t alone. There was a battery of chairs against one side of the room. She recognized most of the girls sitting in them.

She forced a smile to her lips and tried to laugh.

"I\'m sure there\'s been some mistake! Why, I never...."

The young man coughed politely. "I\'m afraid there\'s been no mistake. Full name, please."

"Suzanne Carstens," she said grimly, and gave the other statistics he wanted. She idly wondered what stoolie had peddled the phone numbers.

"Suzanne Carstens," the young man noted, and slowly shook his head. "A very pretty name, but no doubt not your own. It actually doesn\'t matter, though. Take a seat over there."

She did as he asked and he faced the entire group.

"I and the other gentlemen here represent the Colonization Board. We\'ve interceded with the local authorities in order to offer you a choice. We would like to ship you out to the colony planets. Naturally, we will pay you the standard emigration bonus of five hundred dollars. The colonists need wives; they offer you—security."

He stressed the word slightly.

"Now, of course, if you don\'t prefer the colony planets, you can stay behind and face the penalties of ten years in jail and a fine of ten thousand dollars."

Suzanne felt that her lower jaw needed support. Ten thousand dollars and ten years! And in either case she\'d lose the apartment she had worked so hard for, her symbol of security.

"Well, what do you say?" There was a dead silence. The young man from the Colonization Board turned to Suzanne. "How about you, Miss Carstens?"

She smiled sickly and nodded her head. "I love to travel!" she said.

It didn\'t sound at all witty even to herself.