"So I went to work on the phosphor and used a contact microphone on it, and got in touch with some woman, who gave her address as across the street from my home. When I went over there, I discovered that it couldn't possibly be correct. Later I refined the thing a bit and learned that her name was Carlson. Then I built a means of talking back to her, and I learned that she was not on this world at all. It was--" "Not on this earth--but talking American?" demanded Norris. "Yes." "Do go on," said Captain Norris, putting down his pipe and leaning forward a bit. "Well, you see, Captain Norris, there were some of the Manhattan Project physicists who believed that there was a chance that the atomic explosion might be strong enough to start a fission train in the earth itself. In other words, they were afraid of setting the earth on fire atomically. This was a possibility, and it seems that we now have two worlds, each following the natural chain of events pursuant to the two different possibilities." "Very interesting, Mr. Bronson. Please go on. There must be more." "After learning this, we decided to do what we could to alleviate the difficulty. I went to bed. In the night--or rather while I was asleep, they used some means or other to pass through from one world to the other and one of them clipped me and taped me up. He told me that they were going to move in on us--to displace us. I escaped and came here. Something must be done!" "Indeed! Something must be done indeed," replied Captain Norris. * * * * * Bronson took a deep breath, and said, "I'm glad that I had this chance. It was a heavy weight on my mind, knowing that this was happening and I was the only one in the whole world that knew the truth." Captain Norris nodded. "I trust that you are feeling all right now?" "Of course." "We'd better get you to a doctor, Mr. Bronson. Those wrists look inflamed." Bronson looked down at them. "Now that this affair is in the hands of authority," he said, "I think I can take time off to see a doctor." "We'll take you to our doctor," said Captain Norris. "I have my own," said Bronson. "We--insist!" "But--" Norris smiled genially. "You'll like our doctor," he said. "He's such a nice congenial fellow. Everybody likes him. Now--" "What is this?" demanded Bronson. "Take it easy," said the captain, "it's just routine. Everybody who gets hurt in the course of committing a crime or being victimized in such is always treated by the official medical department. Just a matter of establishing legal medical evidence, that's all. Now relax, Mr. Bronson, and come along. I'll have the boys take you to the hospital." "Hos--?" "Routine. The doctor works for us, Mr. Bronson. Therefore he has no office hours. Logical?"