There was a soft whirring sound. The President said, "May I ask where we are?" "Certainly, sir. We are in a small ship. We are crossing your country at around one hundred thousand of your feet." "At what speed?" This gave the young man pause. "It would be very hard to translate into terms with which you are familiar. I would say roughly the speed of light. The major time-lapse is consumed in ascent and descent." The President showed great interest. "Tell me this--we were moved from my study through some scientific process I won't ask you to explain, but why weren't we carried the entire distance to Ranier in that manner?" The young man pondered. "That is of course difficult for you to understand. And quite difficult for me to explain so allow me to put it this way. When planning a trip from Washington to New York, you walk from your office to your car, and ride in the car from your residence to the airport." "I see--a matter of slower speeds over short distances." "In a way, but more so a matter of practicality. You could hardly bring the car into your office nor the aircraft onto your front lawn." The President let it rest there. He said, "One more thing--why was I not contacted directly in this matter?" This embarrassed the young man. "Wherever we go, sir, we attempt to conform to customs and manner existing in that place. We understood that to reach The President of the United States, one always proceeds through channels." The President smiled. The humming sound ceased. The young man arose, forestalling further questions. "This way, if you will be so kind." The President and the Press Secretary followed the young man from the room into a low corridor. The walls of this passage were transparent and the President caught his breath at the grandeur outside. He got the impression they were moving from the small ship to a larger one perched precariously on the edge of an abyss. Below, under bright moonlight, lay the snow-covered approaches to Ranier and her sister peaks. A view of overpowering majesty such as few men had ever seen. One of the reasons, the President thought, why some men join the air force. They entered another room, this one with a blue motif, through another door that opened automatically on approach, and into one of pastel green. This room was somewhat larger but no more ornate nor less efficiently furnished than the others. A streamlined, oval desk sat in its center from the far side of which a man arose and held forth his hand. He was slim as a reed and had snow-white hair. He gave the impression of ripe years yet with no physical indications of this other than a head of beautiful snow-white hair. Perhaps, the President thought, this indication was an illusion. And perhaps the aura of power emanating from the man was also an illusion but the President would not have been willing to bet on it.