Stoney was jolted from his reverie by the blare of the shift klaxon sounding the end of the employment day. Relieved, he carefully replaced his work satchel in maintenance closet #224 and began activating the dust shields over the designers' drawing boards. Finished with his rounds, he extinguished the lights and joined his co-workers as they continued to crowd the central hub.

Aware of the great weight that always seemed to lift following an interminable day of dull routine, Stoney emerged onto the promenade and mingled with the thousands of other workers from other wings, including Planning, Administration, and Maintenance. Passing the myriad shops, compu-newsstands, and cafeterias, he ignored the slow-moving escalators and headed to the bank of high-speed lifts that afforded transportation to the residential levels above.

Joining a group of other citizens, Stoney entered the lift designated for Level VII and was immediately whisked upward past the levels dedicated to public recreation and administration to the residential level. A few seconds later, he stepped out into the central hub for Level VII, where the atmosphere was much more subdued. With fewer citizens moving about, and walls covered in sound-deadening materials, the level created an air of peace and tranquility more suitable to rest and retreat from the busy working day.

As a maintenance worker, Stoney never failed to notice the lack of attention paid to areas of the city other than the design wing on which Sunshine's livelihood depended. Annoyed without quite understanding why, he looked with disapproval at the shabby nature of Level VII, where there was little to attract a citizen's attention: certainly not the drab and rundown central hub where many of the automated devices intended for banking and food dispensing had broken down, floors were dull and dirty, and plants withered and died for lack of watering. It was unfortunate, but understandable. If so much of a citizen's income was taken in taxes, why should he exert more effort than required to do his job? Stoney made his way to residential unit #491, where a swipe of his palm over a hidden sensor caused the door panel to move aside.

"Good afternoon, son," called his father, Aris Vander, from another part of the residence.

"Good afternoon, Father," replied Stoney, stepping into the foyer and shrugging out of his vest-smock. "Is Mother home yet?"

"No, but she communicated by earphone to say she would be home in time for dinner," said Aris, appearing from the general direction of the kitchen. "How does old-style baked potatoes sound for dinner? The food processors at Cirrus Tower have perfected them such that I can't see how anyone can improve on the taste."

"Wonderful!" said Stoney. Old-style baked potatoes were his favorite. "What is the occasion?"

"Your sister has some good news for us," said Aris. "She plans to tell us all about it over dinner."

Stoney suspected what the news would be, and was not at all sure why he was not as happy for his sister as he should have been.

Throwing himself into an old plush chair in the living room, Stoney sighed heavily before undoing the shirt stud at his throat. He snapped his fingers to activate the wall viewer and settled back to receive the news of the day. But when his father finally called him to the table, he realized he had not heard a word of the report.

"Good afternoon, dear," said his mother, Vivy Vander-Hool, in a voice filled with laughter. She also must have guessed his sister's news. "How is work treating you?"

"No change," said Stoney, as he took his accustomed place at the table. "Design Wing is working on a new component of the Mark IX food preparation unit. I am told it will completely supersede all previous models."

"What is wrong with the current model?" Aris wanted to know. "It has 508 different settings, holds food preparation data in its memory for 10,000 items, and malfunctions hardly at all."

"Nevertheless, I am told that the maintenance department will begin replacing the old units in the residence levels in a few months," said Stoney. "It would not do to market a new model while the town itself does not use it in its own residences."

"Well, I just hope my new living unit in Clearsky will have all the latest conveniences," declared his sister Immomia.

Stoney looked at her, as did his parents, and asked, "What is this about Clearsky? Have you been assigned a living unit already?"

Immomia smiled broadly, delighted in her not-so-secret news.

"Mother, Father," Immomia began. "I have the pleasure of informing you that I will soon be wed to a Clearsky male and have already been assigned living unit #112 . . . on the east side!"

Immediately, Vivy burst into tears and threw her arms around her daughter, who was a few years older than Stoney. Aris beamed with pride and anticipation of the expected grandchildren.

"Will your partner be a citizen of color?" asked Stoney politely.

"Unfortunately, no," said Immomia, momentarily crestfallen.

Clearsky was the town below Sunshine and the home of many of Stoney's first cousins. The administration made sure that second cousins married citizens from the next town down or up, until the family eventually lost touch with succeeding generations along the tower's height. It was only unfortunate that Immomia was a brunette. If she had been a blonde, she definitely would have been requested by a person of color, which would have lifted her in turn to an improved living status. As a couple of European descent, Immomia and her prospective husband would undoubtedly be assigned a unit that did not command the best view, probably located near a noisy central duct or high-speed lift.

"Congratulations, sister," mustered Stoney. "Do you know who the lucky male is?"

"No, but I am told he is my own age and praised by his supervisors as one of the town's most savvy marketers," Immomia replied. "As a result, he has earned early promotion. In fact, I think one or two of his ideas have contributed greatly to the upcoming advertising campaign for the Mark IX."

"Is that so?" said Stoney, not without a twinge of jealousy. "And have you previewed living unit #112?"

"Oh, yes!" said Immomia. "As soon as administration informed me that my husband had been chosen, I asked if a living unit had been arranged . . . you know that sometimes there is a delay between the announcement of matings and the assignment of a unit. But I was lucky. One was immediately available, and even more fortunate, it was located on the east side. So not only will we be away from the lifts, we will also have as many as two bedrooms."

"You are so lucky, Immomia," said Vivy. "Aris and I had to wait almost twenty-three years before we were able to move into this unit with its three bedrooms and outside view."

"Has a date been fixed for the wedding?" Aris wanted to know, as he tucked a napkin into his shirt.

"Next month, and Administration has arranged for it to take place in the rooftop chapel gardens."

"How thrilling!" said Vivy, already making plans in her head.

"Well, it seems that Immomia's news will definitely eclipse my own," said Aris, with a twinkle in his eye.