And then I realized that these sparks, these stars, were passing through us! A steady, flashing stream of them. I could see their luminous white points beaming within the vehicle as the stream flowed through. Stars no longer. Why, these were mere imponderable electrons! Some were dark, shining only by reflected light-worlds like our earth. But I knew they were not imponderable bodies passing through the density of our vehicle. The reverse. It was we who were the less dense. Our vehicle comparatively was a puff of vapor, through which these tiny bodies were passing. A stream of electricity, myriad electrons flowing through a copper wire, are not less dense than the wire. The electrons are the densities; imponderable, of a mass imperceptible, because they are infinitely small. But of a tremendous density; it is the wire which is ponderous. So now with us, I sat bewildered, for how long I cannot say. I heard at intervals Dr. Weatherby’s voice: “Light-years a hundred thousand. One million. Ten. One hundred million.” We were a hundred million light-years from earth! The flashing points of fire continued to stream past. But there was a change, a thinning in advance of us; a clustering white radiance behind. I sat motionless, tense. It might have been minutes, or an hour. I found Dr. Weatherby beside me, and I turned to him. I was stiff, cramped and cold. I tried to smile. “We’re all right . . . still, Dr. Weatherby.” “Look,” he said. “We’re beyond them.” A darkness loomed ahead. To the sides the brilliant star-points seemed rushing together; clustering to form other, fewer white points. And the whole, sweeping backward into the seething radiance which lay behind us. Soon it was all back there, a shrinking white mist of fire; billions of seething particles of star dust shrinking together. “Watch it, Leonard. It is our universe. Watch it go!” We turned to the rear window. Everywhere now was empty blackness, except directly behind us. A silver mist hung back there in the void. It was dwindling. Then I saw it as a tiny, flattened, lens-shaped silver disk. But only for an instant, for it was shrinking fast. A lens-shaped disk! A point of white fire! A single faint star—a single entity! No . . . not a star; nothing but an electron! For a breath I realized how near it was. A single tiny white spark, trembling outside our window. I could have pinched it with my thumb and finger. It trembled, vanished into blackness. * * * * * A day passed, a day to us because we ate our meals, and slept. But to the worlds, universes outside our windows, congealing behind us into single points, winking and vanishing into an oblivion of space and time, this day of ours was an eternity.