Horning stepped onto the ramp that led up to the frame. In the humming stillness he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat, drumming faster and faster. The sharp, chlorine-like smell of ozone filled the air. For an instant, then, he hesitated, acutely conscious of an uncontrollable trembling. Sweat drenched him; the sour stench of it cut through the ozone. He thought: _Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm crazy to think I can cross the barrier between the worlds._ Upstairs, the front door slammed. The house echoed with the thud of heavy footsteps. Myrtle's footsteps--! Horning sucked in one final, desperate breath and stepped through the light-loop's frame. It was so simple, really. Just like going out a doorway, into a limitless expanse of shining silver plain. He felt no pain, no shock, not even slight discomfort. Swiftly, skillfully, he adjusted the transdimensional registration unit's dials. Light flickered on the scanning scope's screen, a shapeless blur. Horning twisted the focussing knob. The blur resolved. A scene took form. Taut with excitement, Horning stared for the first time into another world. The place was an apartment, he decided. But what an apartment! It shimmered like a modernist's sparkling dream. The decor was brilliant, unique in style. Metal and plastic combined in sleek, functional forms. Nor was this all. A man stood by a table, back to the screen, mixing a drink. While Horning watched, he restoppered the bottle and stepped out a door to the right. Horning frowned. He had a strange feeling, somehow, that he'd seen the man somewhere before. Shrugging it off, he lined up the crosshairs on the screen with infinite care and switched the projector drive to high. Before his very eyes, the shining silver plain dissolved. The shadowy walls of the room on the screen rose about him. Furnishings appeared in misty outline. Horning pressed the reintegrator button. The walls lost their shadow. The furnishings took on solid form. Horning came to rest with a heavy thud, sprawled in the center of the floor. Behind him, there was a stir of sudden movement; a choked exclamation. Before he could turn or regain his feet, a man's tight voice clipped, "Don't move--or you die!" Horning froze. "There's no need to be frightened," he said quickly. "I'm merely a--a traveler. I've come here from another plane--" "I understand perfectly!" the voice snapped back. "I happen to be an authority on such matters. That's why I say--if you move, you die!" Horning's spine prickled. Just as he'd had the feeling he'd seen the man on the screen before, now it came to him that the voice, too, was strangely familiar. * * * * * Behind him, shoes scraped the floor. Fingers probed warily at his pockets, his belt, his armpits. Then they went away again and the voice said, "All right. Now take off that outfit." Wordless, wooden-fingered, Horning unstrapped the transdimensional registration unit's harness.