The disks across the room began to whir, without noise. Before either could speak again, the screen began to send out a soft glow. Then a figure materialized, that of a man, full sized, in a sort of garment fitting like waist jacket and tight trousers, but in a single piece. The man wore a helmet, chromium bright, and looked no more than forty. Bob and Jim waited, the former fully aware that a tremendous change, somehow, had come into their lives. As for Jim Kenley, he merely grunted. "Movies. Gimme Mickey Mouse, or Popeye. T'hell with Flash Gordon." Then the figure on the screen spoke. His words didn't come from a speaker. As certain as he believed his own eyes and ears, Bob realized the man was actually talking to them, from this screen. "I perceive the actinic frequency treatment has revived you," he said, rather amiably. "Good. Did either of you experience muscular pains yet?" "Say," Jim Kenley exclaimed, "what t'hell's it all about. Yeah, I got pains. And why? Somebody slugged me, that's why. "And if we're okay now, how about sending our clothes around, and no bill. I didn't start it. And where are we anyway?" The man on the screen frowned. "You are not Winslow. No?" "I'm Jim Kenley. That's Bob. Say--any of you folks phone Bob's outfit he got hurt or something?" "No." The figure came nearer, growing in perspective. "I believe it is time to inform you it would be somewhat difficult to notify anyone in your period of time what happened. You are now existing in the year 3300." The pit of Bob's stomach grew chill. Somehow, he had felt from the moment of awakening, that he had left either his space, or his time zone. It fit too well with that presentment, and the brief glimpse of their kidnapers. And as his alert mind began to grasp their situation, Bob went through panic. There were so many things he wanted to complete, to eat, to see. There was a girl, not disturbing him yet, but nevertheless in the background. There was his whole world, the one he knew, and that was the world in which he wanted to live, and die. Bob's curiosity wasn't to explore space. He wanted to better fellow men, and gain information for them. He wondered if Jim could get the staggering impact of this calm announcement of their fate. Jim's reaction was typical. "Baloney. You gotta damned good act, brother. And I don't know why you're rehearsing on us." Jim sprang out of bed. "Come on, Bob. Let's get out of this booby hatch." In tight fitting pajamas of strange fabric, he started around his bed. He struck an object, bounded back. Whatever it was, Bob couldn't see it. As for Jim, swearing, fists doubled, he charged. This time he went back and struck the floor, turning a complete somersault.