4/3pi to 5^{3}e, 4/3pi to 5^{3}e, 4/3pi to 5^{3}e under high gravity--very high, that is, two to three million times that of earth, such as inside a star--in such warped space there is a subtle difference between 5^{3} and 125, though they represent the same number. It's like the notes E-sharp and F, which are technically the same, but are distinguished between when played by a good violinist with a fine ear. When the root came loose, therefore, the variation threw the wave-length all off balance:) 4/3pi to 5e, 4/3pi to 5e, 4/3pi to 5e.... (_All right, everybody, concentrate--_) (_There, there, there...._) For one moment, the intruding oscillation turned, ducked, tried to escape, and couldn't. It contracted into a small ball with a volume of 4/3pi_e_^{3}, and disappeared. _There...._ * * * * * Jon Koshar shook his head, staggered forward, and went down on his knees in white sand. He blinked. He looked up. There were two shadows in front of him. Then he saw the city. It was Telphar, stuck on a desert, under a double sun. The transit ribbon started across the desert, got the length of twelve pylons, and then crumpled. As he stood up, something caught in the corner of his eye. His eyes moved, and he saw a woman about twenty feet away from him. Her red hair fell straight to her shoulders in the dry heat. He blinked as she approached. She wore a straight skirt and had a notebook under her arm. "Petra?" he said, frowning. It was Petra, but Petra different. "Jon," she answered. "What happened to you?" He looked down at himself. He was wearing a torn, dirty uniform. A prison uniform. His prison uniform! "Arkor," said Petra, suddenly. (Her voice was higher, less sure.) They turned. Arkor stood in the sand, his feet wide over the white hillocks. The triple scars down his face welled bright blood in the hot light. They came together now. "What's going on?" Jon asked. Arkor shrugged. "What about the kids?" asked Petra. "They're still right here," Arkor said, pointing to his head and grinning. Then his finger touched the opened scars. When he drew it away, he saw the blood and frowned. Then he looked at the City. The sun caught on the towers and slipped like bright liquid along the looping highways. "Hey," Jon said to Petra. (No, he realized; it was Petra with a handful of years lopped off.) "What's the notebook?" She looked down at it, surprised to find it in her hands. Then she looked at her dress. Suddenly she laughed, and began to flip through the pages of the notebook. "Why, this is the book in which I finished my article on shelter architecture among the forest people. In fact this is what I was wearing the day I finished my article." "And you?" Jon asked Arkor.