Looking westward, they could see a slow line of cars crawling toward the Black Canyon freeway, inching their way up Van Buren. Commuters heading home to Flagstaff and Payson, Yuma, Havasu City, and Kingman, and football fans returning to Vegas and points north. There were no beggars and plenty of laughter in the crowds.

Street-level restaurants exuded spicy odors of Mexican food. Bookstores and art galleries promised nourishment for the mind and eye. It was all so different from the downtown metropolitan environmnents of even fifty years past.

A great deal was due to the intervention of the Colligatarch. The Authority had cleaned things up quite a bit as well as making it possible for more citizens to enjoy the good things of life. There were fewer families of great wealth, but the appalling poverty of the past had been largely eradicated. Life on planet Earth was pretty good. Nothing compared to the twin paradises of the colony worlds, but few mortals aspired to such heights. Most were content with their lives.

And as Charlie had pointed out, there was always the chance the Authority would reach out some day and choose some ordinary joe or jane to make the wondrous journey. Eric never thought about it. He was no dreamer.

Van Buren station was only a few blocks away. They ignored the programmed hail of a robocab and turned east down the boulevard. After sitting at their desks all day and a dinner table all evening, it was better to exercise a little before committing themselves to the confining seats of a tube car.

They were crossing Second Street when the car cut across in front of them, its powerful rear-mounted electric engine humming silently. Several passengers were visible through the transparent front even though the glass was darkened against sun and onlookers. All except the driver were watching opto. The bright lights of a nearby hotel penetrated the tinted glass, revealing the car’s interior.

That’s when Eric glimpsed the girl. It was very quick, and as she turned languorously to face him, it seemed she was looking straight through him. A tiny, elfin face; huge, haunted eyes of indeterminate color; a small mouth; and hair pulled back in a single relaxed wave to caress her neck like an auburn blanket.

Then car and passenger were gone around the corner. Eric stood gaping for half an eternity.

Then he began to run.

III

Charlie struggled to keep up but fell farther and farther behind. Startled onlookers stumbled out of Eric’s path. A few sent imprecations flying after him. He did not hear them any more than he heard the frantic shouts of his friend.

He turned the corner, slowed. The car had vanished, whether down Second or up around Washington he didn’t know. His eyes searched desperately, but there were three directions it could have taken at the next intersection. All he could do was stand there, trying to see above the crowd. A few strollers eyed him uncertainly. None more so than Charlie. He was puffing hard when he finally arrived.

“What the hell was that all about? You get a wasp in your pants?”

At first Eric didn’t hear him. When he looked over he spoke quietly. “No. No, I saw someone.”

“No kidding? You going to tell me who? A friend, a killer, Miss Universe?” When his friend’s silence continued he added sarcastically, “Give me a hint: animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

“Hmmm?” Eric’s eyes still clung to the intersection, hoping the car might magically reappear. “It was a girl.”

“Some girl! She give you the finger or flash you?”

“Neither. She didn’t do anything.” He added thoughtfully, “I think she might have looked at me. I’m not sure.”

“Sorry I missed her. She must’ve been something else. You ever think of trying out as fullback for the Scorchers? They could use one.”

“I’m sorry if I bumped anyone,” Eric murmured, remembering those strollers he’d rudely shunted aside during his mad dash for the corner.

“Leave it be.” Charlie put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’ve all forgotten it by now.” He looked backward. “At least, I think they have. We don’t want to hang around to find out." He started steering them both toward the tube station. Eric moved slowly.

“Pick ’em up, Eric. So you saw a girl, big deal. She’s gone. Forget about it."

“I can’t forget about it, Charlie." He didn’t consider his next words. They just materialized, like the Syrax. “I think I’m in love.”

The young advertising executive halted. For a long moment he considered the pavement, then stared at his longtime friend for an equal length of time. His expression was confused, and one eye half hid behind a bunched-up cheek.

“That’s funny, that is. You’re putting me on, aren’t you?’ ’

“No, I’m not. I’m serious, Charlie.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am.”

Charlie frowned, smiled crookedly, hesitated, then said, “Well I’ll be damned. A great looker like Gabriella practically throws herself on you and suddenly all you can think about is the proverbial face that passed in the night. Well, tough. Phoenix ain’t no pit stop in the race of life, Eric.” He held up two fingers a quarter-inch apart. “Your chances of ever seeing that face again are about this big.

“Or are you going to put an ad in the paper? ‘Wanted, beautiful girl, last seen traveling through intersection of Van Buren and Second Street at seven-thirty on the night of eighteen September.’ Naturally she’ll be an avid reader of the personals and she’ll pick up on your ad and call you immediately and you’ll get married and live happily ever after.”

“Charlie, there’s no romance in your soul.”

“Like hell there isn’t,” he shot back. “Ask Adrienne.”

“I said romance, not lust.”

“Look,” Charlie continued, “it doesn’t matter. I mean, this has been interesting and different and it’ll be a great story to tell in the office tomorrow, but you’ve got to get ready for a trip to Hong Kong and I’ve got the Bp insert packaging to design. All I’m saying is you have to put things in perspective. This isn’t an opto serial. Want a nightcap before we squirt the tube?”

“No. You’re right, Charlie. I don’t mean to hold you up. You could go on without me.”

“Like hell. You still look weird. I’m getting you home. I can see the headline, sixth minute on the channel hour reports: ‘Brilliant young designer for Selvem, Inc., found wandering downtown Phoenix streets in daze at four A.M. When questioned stated had fallen in love with face in crowd. Letters of sympathy directed to Chandler sanitarium.’” He hesitated and lost the sarcasm in his voice.

“Was she really that good-looking?”

“I never saw anything like her, Charlie.” There was uncommon intensity in his voice. “Not film-star beautiful. It was a different quality. Dreamy and ethereal, like something from a Parrish painting.”

“Maybe you’ll find her again in your dreams, Eric. Which you won’t enjoy if we don’t get out of here.” He checked his watch. “You know what happens after eight on a weekday. After that the tube runs one car on the half hour instead of every ten minutes. I don’t like hanging around the station waiting. I want to get home.”

Eric took a deep breath, smiled. “So do I.” He formed an apology. “You’re right about everything. It was interesting, though.”

“Like I said, it’ll make a great story. I won’t mention it if you don’t want me to.”

“What difference does it make? Be good for a few laughs. Come on.” He tugged at his friend’s arm. They started up Van Buren again.

“It wouldn’t matter even if you did find her again,” Charlie said into the silence. “I saw the car, too.”

“You didn’t see the people inside, though.”

“No, I didn’t. But it was a black Cadota and there was a chauffeur piloting it instead of a program. That’s for rich folks only, that machine. Sure, you’re a brilliant designer and all that. That works great on gals like Gabriella, but this mystery woman’s obviously way out of our class. Wouldn’t it be worse if by some miracle you did run into her again and she just ignored you?’ ’

“I supposed, but who says love has to be logical?”

“So you’re still smitten?”

Eric nodded, half shrugged.

“Terrific,” Charlie muttered. “Everything’s going great. Gabriella’s itching to jump in the sack with you and instead all you can think about is a millisecond glimpse of some woman who didn’t even see you. Now, does that sound like a candidate for the cupboard or not?”

"Think a minute, Charlie. What’s life without an occasional diversion to spice it up? What’s life without the exceptional exception?”