Slowly, the image of a tiny organism took form on one screen. Almost at the same moment an identical likeness swam into view on the other. Then began a parade of life-forms across the screens, each succeeding animal a bit higher on the evolutionary scale than its predecessor. The sounds of battle grew nearer. He had to hurry now.... Ah! There! The flat, repulsive face of a half-man loomed before him. His finger stabbed at a stud, and the likeness was transfixed on the screen. The procession continued on the other glowing surface until the physique of a Wronged One took shape in the depths and came to focus. The two reproductions stared out at him with unwinking eyes. Deep in the bowels of the machine the basic mind make-up of the beings was being analyzed. An instant later the throbbing transposer would set up an en masse connection with the race egos, then.... A green light flashed on the panel and Gene brought his hand forward on the master switch. It was done! Elated, he scrambled down from his perch and hurried outside. As he passed between the strangely inactive creatures at the entrance, a horrified voice croaked: "What terrible deed has been done?" Gene grabbed the foul thing by the shoulders. "Kac! Is it you?" "No," it whispered. "It is my mind, yes, but it is not my body." His hands went to his face. "Gene! I cannot see!" * * * * * "Easy!" Gene hissed. "You'll cause a panic." He realized that although the Wronged Ones could, with effort, talk with the strange vocal cords, it would take them some time to master the high-pitched shrill. "Listen, Kac," he said. "Call out and tell your people to banish fear from their minds, or many will die by the spears of the crazed Beast People. Tell them to fall on the ground and not to rise until you so instruct them. Hurry now, there is no time to lose!" Dazedly, Kac obeyed. Though his voice was cracked and unrecognizable, it boomed with authority. Suppressing their fright, the transposed Wronged Ones dropped to the ground and lay unmoving. Then Gene crouched beside his fearful companion and looked upon the debacle. The transported Beast People were groping about uncertainly. They were in the same boat as their hated enemies. Sight was a thing unknown to their brutish minds, thus the eyes they now possessed were utterly useless; and try as they would, they could not produce the inaudible squeal which gave them knowledge of their surroundings with the vocal cords of their new bodies. Two of them collided, and immediately struck out with their stone knives. To each, the flesh they felt was the flesh of a Wronged One--a feared foe who must be destroyed. Both toppled, screaming defiance even in their final death throes. The scene was repeated time and again, till the valley floor was but a mass of shrieking, struggling, mangled bodies.