"That's no good for farm work," the farmer said, reaching under his tractor seat. He raised what resembled a snub-nosed automatic. "This here's a real beauty. Had this general purpose degrav for two years and no trouble yet." He squeezed the trigger and the boulder skimmed across the field. "That looks like an old Harley single-drive you got there," the farmer said. "What'dya do? Recondition it and pep up the atomic pile?" Stunned, Clark swallowed hard. The old farmer leaned over his wheel in curiosity. "Those old timers are pretty scarce. I remember when the first model came out about twenty years ago, just after the war ended." "After the war?" Clark stammered. His mind spun in dizzy, sickening whirls. Degravitators were commonplace farm tools! Where was he? Then suddenly he knew the meaning of his strange black-out and Baldy's sly words. _I know you won't abuse this power._ How could he? Their superscience had catapulted him past the war years into the future. The old farmer said gently, "Tell you what, son, the wife's been nagging me for a pocket degrav to move furniture around the house. I'll give you a fiver for it and a square meal. You look kinda pale."