It is hard for a groundhog to dismiss the notion of weight. We seem to be born with an instinct which demands it. If one thinks of a vessel in a free orbit around the Earth, one is inclined to think of the direction towards the Earth as ‘down', to think of oneself as standing or sitting on that wall of the ship, using it as a floor. Such a concept is completely mistaken. To a person inside a freely falling body there is no sensation of weight whatsoever and no direction of up-and-down, except that which derives from the gravitatioiial field of the vessel itself. As for the latter, neither Waldo's house nor any space craft as yet built is massive enough to produce a field dense enough for the human body to notice it. Believe it or not, that is true. It takes a mass as gross as a good-sized planetoid to give the human body a feeling of weight

It may be objected that a body in a free orbit around the Earth is not a freely falling body. The concept involved is human, Earth surface in type, and completely erroneous. Free flight, free fall, and free orbit are equivalent terms. The Moon falls constantly towards the Earth; the Earth falls constantly towards the Sun, but the sideways vector of their several mo­tions prevents them from approaching their primaries. It is free fall nonetheless. Consult any ballistician or any astrophy­sicist

Where there is free fall there is no sensation of weight. A gravitational field must be opposed to be detected by the human body

Some of these considerations passed through Stevens's mind as he handwalked his way to Waldo's workshop. Waldo's home had been constructed without any consideration being given to up-and-down. Furniture and apparatus were affixed to any wall; there was no ‘floor'. Decks and platforms were arranged at any convenient angle and of any size or shape, since they had nothing to do with standing or walking. Properly speaking, they were bulkheads and working surfaces rather than decks. Furthermore, equipment was not necessarily placed close to such surfaces; frequently it was more convenient to locate it with space all around it, held in place by light guys or slender stanchions

The furniture and equipment was all odd in design and fre­quently odd in purpose. Most furniture on Earth is extremely rugged, and at least 90per cent of it has a single purpose - to oppose, in one way or another, the acceleration of gravity. Most of the furniture in an Earth-surface - or subsurface - house is stator machines intended to oppose gravity. All tables, chairs, beds, couches, clothing racks, shelves, drawers, et cetera, have that as their one purpose. All other furniture and equip­ment have it as a secondary purpose which strongly conditions design and strength

The lack of need for the rugged strength necessary to all ter­restrial equipment resulted in a fairylike grace in much of the equipment in Waldo's house. Stored supplies, massive in themselves, could be retained in convenient order by compart­mentation of eggshell-thin transparent plastic. Ponderous machinery, which on Earth would necessarily be heavily cased and supported, was here either open to the air or cov­ered by gossamer- like envelopes and held stationary by light elastic lines

Everywhere were pairs of waldoes, large, small, and life-size, with vision pickups to match. It was evident that Waldo could make use of the compartments through which they were passing without stirring out of his easy chair -~ if he used an easy chair. The ubiquitous waldoes, the insubstantial quality of the furniture, and the casual use of all walls as work or storage surfaces, gave the place a madly fantastic air. Stevens felt as if he were caught in a Disney

So far the rooms were not living quarters. Stevens wondered what Waldo's private apartments could be like and tried to visualize what equipment would be appropriate. No chairs, no rugs, no bed. Pictures, perhaps. Something pretty clever in the way of indirect lighting, since the eyes might be turned in any direction. Communication instruments might be much the same. But what could a washstand be like? Or a water tum­bler? A trap bottle for the last - or would any container be necessary at all? He could not decide and realized that even a competent engineer may he confused in the face of mechanical conditions strange to him

What constitutes a good ashtray when there is no gravity to hold the debris in place? Did Waldo smoke? Suppose he played solitaire; how did he handle the cards? Magnetized cards, perhaps, and a magnetized playing surface

‘In through here, Jim.' Grimes steadied himself with one hand, gesturing with the other. Stevens slid through the man­hole indicated. Before he had had time to look around he was startled by a menacing bass growl. He looked up; charging through the air straight at him was an enormous mastiff, lips drawn back, jaws slavering. Its front legs were spread out stiffly as if to balance in flight; its hind legs were drawn up under its lean belly. By voice and manner it announced clearly its intention of tearing the intruder into pieces, then swallow­ing the pieces

‘Baldur!' A voice cut through the air from some point be­yond. The dog's ferocity wilted, but it could not check its lunge. A waldo snaked out a good thirty feet and grasped it by the collar. ‘I am sorry, sir,' the voice added. ‘My friend was not expecting you.

Grimes said, ‘Howdy, Baldur. How's your conduct?' The dog looked at him, whined, and wagged his tail. Stevens looked for the source of the commanding voice, found it

The room was huge and spherical; floating in its centre was a fat man - Waldo

He was dressed conventionally enough in shorts and singlet, except that his feet were bare. His hands and forearms were covered by metallic gauntlets - primary waldoes. He was softly fat, with double chin, dimples, smooth skin; he looked like a great, pink cherub, floating attendance on a saint. But the eyes were not cherubic, and the forehead and skull were those of a man. He looked at Stevens. ‘Permit me to introduce you to my pet,' he said in a high, tired voice. ‘Give the paw, Baldur.

The dog offered a foreleg, Stevens shook it gravely. ‘Let him smell you, please.

The dog did so, as the waldo at his collar permitted him to come closer. Satisfied, the animal bestowed a wet kiss on Stevens's wrist. Stevens noted that the dog's eyes were sur­rounded by large circular patches of brown in contrast to his prevailing white, and mentally tagged it the Dog with Eyes as Large as Saucers, thinking of the tale of the soldier and the flint box. He made noises to it of ‘Good boy!' and ‘That's a nice old fellow!' while Waldo looked on with faint distaste

‘Heel, sir!' Waldo commanded when the ceremony was complete. The dog turned in mid air, braced a foot against Stevens's thigh, and shoved, projecting himself in the direction of his master. Stevens was forced to steady himself by clutch­ing at a handgrip. Grimes shoved himself away from the man­hole and arrested his flight on a stanchion near their host. Stevens followed him

Waldo looked him over slowly. His manner was not overtly rude, but was somehow, to Stevens, faintly annoying. He felt a slow flush spreading out from his neck; to inhibit it he gave his attention to the room around him. The space was commo­dious, yet gave the impression of being cluttered because of the assemblage of, well, junk which surrounded Waldo. There were half a dozen vision receptors of various sizes around him at different angles, all normal to his line of sight. Three of them had pickups to match. There were control panels of seve­ral sorts, some of which seemed obvious enough in their pur­pose - one for lighting, which was quite complicated, with little ruby tell-tales for each circuit, one which was the key­board of a voder, a multiplex television control panel, a board which seemed to be power relays, although its design was unu­sual. But there were at least half a dozen which stumped Stevens completely