Or was it possible that the playing produced images or colors on the blank space? He craned his neck, but could distinguish nothing. Pounding on, he called over his shoulder, "Come here, somebody!" No one answered. Pushing keys at random, he turned to look for them. Each of them was doing something under the supervision of a twelve-foot beast, except for Summersby, who was still examining the door. "Hey, High-pockets!" he yelled, knowing the big man hated the nickname, but not giving a damn. "Summersby! Come here!" "What is it?" said Summersby in a moment, standing below his seat. "Take a squint at that screen the old boy's gaping at. I want to know what the devil I'm doing." Summersby walked over and stood beside the scientist. "What's happening?" "Nothing." "Nothing at all?" "Well, the screen's mottled gray and white, and the pattern's swirling slowly; but that's all." "Is it particularly beautiful?" asked Watkins. "No. It's hardly distinguishable." * * * * * Sliding right and left on the bar, striking first one and then another of the manuals, Watkins said to Summersby, "What do you figure these scientists are, anyway?" "Mammals," said the big man. "I suppose so--" "They have navels. They weren't hatched." "Oh." Watkins hadn't noticed that. "Where are we, then?" "I don't know." Another scientist wandered over and sat down beside the first. Shortly they seemed to get in each other's way, and there was a lot of shoving and squawking. At last one of them hit the other in the face with an open hand. Then they were rolling on the floor, snatching at one another's hair and pummeling the big bodies and heads with those gargantuan fists. It sounded like a brawl between elephants. Watkins swiveled round to watch. Mrs. Full said to someone--Watkins heard her distinctly in a lull in the ruckus--"If these are scientists, what are the common people like?" For the first time that day he grinned. He had stopped playing the organ. The other scientists had gathered around the fight and were uttering strange cries, like wild geese honking. Cheering them on? he wondered. Adam came over. "Mr. Watkins," he said, "could we have been wrong about them? Do you think a scientist would act like that?" "They sure seem to be a quarrelsome race, Adam," he said, "they're not noticing what we do. Suppose you go look for a way out." "We want to get away as soon as we can," nodded the boy. "Dangerous around here!" He ran down the hall. The giants arose and straightened their clothing. They had patched up their argument in the midst of fighting over it. The leader walked toward a tall device of pipes and boards and steps, motioning Mrs. Full to follow. Apparently Watkins had been forgotten. He took his briefcase off his lap, where he had held it all the time he played, and dropped it to the floor. Then he hung by his hands and let go. He picked up the case and went to investigate the room.