[Footnote 2: Narcissus, according to legend, was a youth so infatuated with his own appearance that he spent all his time admiring his own reflection in a pool of water.] He said, "The hell you did! But here--" And held out the bottle. I reached for it-- * * * * * His hand passed completely through the walls of the machine in which I sat! My hand passed completely in and out of the bottle he handed me; the bottle fell right through my fingers, my arm, and my right foot--and crashed on the floor below! Both of me wailed, good dusty rye gurgled cheerfully into the carpet, and I stared at Hank Cleaver dismally. "Now what?" I demanded. "Now who did what when?" And Hank, a haunted look in his eyes, said, "Sorry, Jim--but that's another o' the drawbacks to this time-travel business. You c'n see things an' hear 'em and smell 'em, but you can't _tetch_ 'em. Because as fur's you're concerned, they _ain't_, an' as fur's they're concerned, you don't exist!" Helen MacDowell stared at him. "You mean we can't step out of this jaloppy when we take it into our minds to do so?" "Nope!" said Hank miserably. "We're locked in like caged mice." The thought was right, but he expressed it much too masculinely. At his words, both Helens emitted little squeals of fright. And "our" Helen swung into action. "Then I," she cried, "am getting out of here! Right away! I'm going back where I belong--" "_Helen!_" howled Hank, agonized. "Hank--try to--!" But both roar and plea were bootless. For again my brainy chum's fiancée had clicked the key, the room had faded and all sights and sounds were lost in that gray, flickering veil. Once more we were on our way! * * * * * Once when I was a kid in knee-britches I hitched my express-wagon on behind what I thought was a leisurely, local truck. A few minutes later I was startled to find I was tied to a private ambulance on emergency call! Worse yet, I could not unscramble my amateurish knot. I have never forgotten my wild, heart-pounding ride through the crowded city streets ... lashing back and forth giddily like a bob in a boiling cauldron ... glimpsing through terrified eyes the unfamiliar streets through which we whirled at lightning speed ... viewing a weird kaleidoscope of running feet, dodging autos, skyscrapers that seemed to topple precariously toward me as I rocked and swayed and trembled.... What happened now made that childhood memory appear as gentle and undisturbing as Tit-tat-toe Night at the Old Ladies' Home. It was the same thing, only more so! Again I experienced that sensation of wild, headlong, uncontrollable flight--but this time not only was the destination unfathomable, but also were the sights I saw and the sounds I heard so weirdly incredible as to half madden the brain!