Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THEY OPENED THE PANDORA'S BOX OF ATOMIC TRAVEL When George Randolph first caught sight of Orena, he was astounded by its gleaming perfection. Here were hills and valleys, lakes and streams, glowing with the light of the most precious of metals. And, more astonishing than that, it was a world of _miniature_ perfection--an infinitely tiny universe within a golden atom! But for Randolph it was also a world aglow with danger. Somewhere in its tiny vastness were the friends he had to rescue. Captives of a madman, they had been reduced to native Orena size; to return to Earth they needed the growth capsules Randolph was bringing them. It was up to Randolph to find them--and quickly--for the longer they stayed tiny, the closer they came to passing BEYOND THE VANISHING POINT! CAST OF CHARACTERS FRANZ POLTER He found a gold mine in a land where there was no gold. DR. KENT His scientific studies could mean life or death to an entire universe! GEORGE RANDOLPH He crossed the border into Canada, and found himself in another world. ALAN KENT Twenty feet tall, or two inches high--which should he be? GLORA She was only as large as a thumbnail, but she carried a gigantic secret. BABS KENT Did she live in a golden cage or a magnificent palace? BEYOND THE VANISHING POINT by RAY CUMMINGS ACE BOOKS, INC. 23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N. Y. BEYOND THE VANISHING POINT Copyright (C), 1958, by Ace Books, Inc. All Rights Reserved Printed in U.S.A. CHAPTER I It was shortly after noon of December 31, 1970, when the series of weird and startling events began which took me into the tiny world of an atom of gold, beyond the vanishing point, beyond the range of even the highest-powered electric-microscope. My name is George Randolph. I was, that momentous afternoon, assistant chemist for the Ajax International Dye Company, with main offices in New York City. It was twelve-twenty when the local exchange call-sorter announced Alan's connection from Quebec. "Hello, George? Look here, you've got to come up here at once. Chateau Frontenac, Quebec. Will you come?" I could see his face imaged in the little mirror on my desk; the anxiety, tenseness in his voice, was duplicated in his expression. "Well--" I began. "You must, George. Babs and I need you. See here...." He tried at first to make it sound like an invitation for a New Year's Eve holiday. But I knew it was not that. Alan and Barbara were my best friends. They were twins, eighteen years old. I felt that Alan would always be my best friend; but for Babs, my hopes, longings, went far deeper, though as yet I had never brought myself to the point of telling her so. "I'd like to come, Alan. But--"