It happened that the next department of the civilisation of the island that had to be studied by me in our educational development was Lilarie, or the science of island-security. We were handed over to one who belonged to the Lilamo, or families specially absorbed in this section of practical knowledge, and were told to choose our mode of ascent, car flight or wing flight, or either of the two instantaneous methods of transit. We preferred one of the two last, so he decided on the wire-line or aërial method for our first ascent. We were enclosed in a casing, shaped like a shuttle and rounded and sharpened to a point at each end; it lay slightly inclined on a close web of wires, which sloped up to the mountain-top. The door was closed and made secure, but, as our shuttle car was made of transparent irelium, we could see on all sides. It was then drawn slightly upwards into a complete enclosure of wires, each of which touched it at some point. When our guide saw that we were all ready, he pressed a button, and we shot up at incredible speed. The whole sky and earth and sea fell from us in an instant. I closed my eyes in alarm. No sooner had I done so than the whizzing sound which accompanied our flight ceased and in a moment we were at our destination, close to the peak of Lilaroma. Our shuttle car slid into another groove and rested; the door opened, and I stood amid the eternal snows. I could see the great buildings of Rimla and Oomalefa and Oolorefa like minute soap-bubbles gleaming in the sun far below. We had travelled these tens of thousands of feet with the ease and swiftness of lightning; for it had indeed been the lightning that had borne us up. Along this cylinder of wires so great an electric power could be sent that it seemed to undo the force of gravitation. Distance was almost annihilated by this mode of transit. It outdistanced sound, if not light too, in its magic motion.