My first sensation was one of sudden and intense cold—a chill that shot through my body and engulfed it like a charge of electricity. For a moment I was conscious of nothing else. Then I knew that I was sinking in cold water, and that I was fighting instinctively against the need to gasp and breathe fresh air. I kicked weakly and convulsively. I opened my eyes, and squeezed them as the bright green water stung them. Then I hung for an instant as if suspended over the depths, and began to rise. I

Glimpses of last night came back to me and pieced themselves together slowly while I undressed and drew the water for my bath. Melbourne had been interested to know that I worked for Bausch, the motion picture producer. "Perhaps you could be of aid to me some time," he said thoughtfully. "In what way, Mr. Melbourne?" I asked him. "I can talk to you about that later," he replied cryptically. "Tell me about your work." So I told him the conception I had of the motion pictures to be made in the fut

I recalled waking up in another place, on a long slope of green hill that overlooked a valley. It was dawn again. The sun was just rising over the crest of the hill behind me, and it threw long shadows across the grass from the tall, slender trees along the summit. Down in the valley a broad, clean river of clear water followed the curve of the hill until it disappeared from sight. There were other hills beyond the river, all with the same long, simple slope of grass; and, beyond the hills, ther

I didn't know what Melbourne meant, and I looked at him inquiringly. He explained: "I have in my home a model—or rather a complete test-apparatus. It was finished only a few days ago. I have been postponing my trial of it from day to day, afraid that it might be a failure—although, of course, it can't be. I have verified my work dozens of times, step by step. "If you care to see it, I should be glad to have you come with me. Now that I have reached the end of my search, I need someone to share m

I remember that I lived nearly two months—or so it seemed—in that other world. I was assigned an apartment near to Edvar's—Selda was between us. Edvar instructed me in the details of the life I was to lead. But he was a rather cold sort: his interests were ancient history and archeology, and he would spend his mornings at work in the Library of History or in his study, the rest of his time flying about the world on curious expeditions of discovery—examining the soil, I suppose, and investigating