My battery. Of course, the moment had arrived when I must turn it off. I glanced down at it. A shadowy, unreal, phantom battery lying beside me; my grey hand resting upon it seemed to my vision far more ponderable. And then I received my first real perception as to the nature of this change. My fingers groped for the switch, found it. But this shadow battery, of which even then I was dimly contemptuous, was solid beyond all solidity of which I had ever formed conception. My fingers fumbling with it--dulled as were my physical sensations, I could feel those fingers groping as though the adamant steel of that switch were _penetrating them_. A feeling indescribable--uncanny, morbidly horrible, though the incident was so brief the horror scarce had time to reach my confused consciousness. My fingers, not the battery, were shadow--half-ponderable fingers, feeling their way _within the solid steel_ of that tiny switch. For a terrifying instant I thought I could not move it. Then--it moved; the current was off. I sank back, exhausted of spirit with the effort. But at once Will's voice aroused me. "Disconnect the wires. Can you do it, Rob? Quickly--or it will be too late." I fumbled for the wires; cast them off--gigantic cables they might have been to the futile wraiths of my fingers. Will helped me, I think; and at last I was free, lying back upon the mattress. Dimly I could feel it beneath me, my thrilling, vibrating body resting upon it as though I were a feather newly drifted down. Moments passed; I do not know how long, I could not have told for my thoughts were winging away unfettered, untrammelled as in a dream.... A dream ... the past, the present--all of it savoured of a vaguely pleasant unreality. And presently I realized that I was moving; my body--could I indeed call this vanished consciousness of the physical, a body?--my _being_ was floating, drifting gently downward, I could no longer feel the mattress; I saw it--a blurred, grey, transparent shadow, coming upward. Beside me, _within me_; then over me as I sank through it a foot or two and came to rest. Beneath me now, there was a dull sensation. I could feel myself lying upon something apparently solid. Feel it? The feeling was barely physical; rather was it a mere knowledge that I was lying there. I tried to keep my scattering thoughts together. It was an effort to hold them--an effort to think coherently; an effort to cling to anything--even mental--of reality. I told myself that the change must be nearly complete. _I_ was the spectre; this phantom mattress, this wraith of a room--those ghost-like chairs and table floating in space above me--that was my own real world, lost and gone.