Dr. Weatherby drew aside a portiere which cut off a corner of the room. Lying on a large table, flooded with a vacuum light from above, was a model of this building we were in. It was about two feet wide, by ten feet long—the same dead white, uncanny-looking structure. A thought sprang to my mind. Was this building we were in itself the projectile? I think I murmured the question, for Dr. Weatherby smiled. “No. Here is a small replica of the vehicle.” He unbolted the roof of the model. Resting inside was a tiny, dead white object some six inches long, cigarro-shaped, but with a pointed end and blunt stern. It rather suggested the ancient sub-sea vessels. It had fin-shaped projections, like very small wings for its slow transit through air. A tiny tower was forward, on top, and there were bull’s-eye windows lining the sides and in every face of the octagon tower. Dr. Weatherby pointed out all these details to us, speaking in his low, earnest voice. “I’m wondering, Leonard, and you, Jim, if you’re familiar with Elton’s principle of the neutralization of gravity?” “No,” I said, and Jim shook his head. “Not in detail.” In 1988 Elton perfected it. I knew of it only as an electronic stream of radiant matter which when directed against a solid substance, destroyed—or partially destroyed—the attraction of that other substance for the earth. “I’ll explain it when we get in the vehicle itself,” Dr. Weatherby said. He was connecting wires to the little model building on the table; and he closed its roof, and opened a wide doorway at its end. “I am going to charge this small building with the Elton current. The electronic stream will carry that tiny projectile with it. “This will be the same as the start of our own voyage, Leonard, except that with this model, I have intensified the rapidity of the successive changes. What happens here in minutes, will take us hours. Sit down over there, all of you.” * * * * * We ranged ourselves in the gloom across the room. The model of the building, with its end doorway open like an airplane hangar, was pointing past us. Jim and I sat together, with Alice near me, and Dolores by Jim. He put his arm around her. A moment, and then Dr. Weatherby touched a switch. The room was plunged into darkness. From the table came a low electrical hum. I strained my eyes. A glow was over there. It brightened. The little building on the table was glowing with a faint, blue-white light. A minute passed, or it might have been ten minutes. I do not know.