"We have just received word of an avalanche," the voice of the driver reported. "There is no immediate danger. However, we may be forced to turn back to--" A sound as of rolling thunder drowned him out. "What--" Kotenko started to say, and then a gigantic mass of snow shuddered down the side of the mountain and broke against the tube like a foaming tidal wave engulfing the shore. Marta screamed and fell into Chandler's arms as the tubeway lifted, twisted, then slid with the snow into the valley below. * * * * * It was like the dissolve on the video screen. Marta's terror-filled eyes were replaced by the penetrating eyes of the short man in the gleaming laboratory. "Clench your fingers." Paul did. "Blink your eyes." Paul did that, too. The tall man turned from the control panel and looked down at Chandler. "That was close," he said. "Everything could have been lost in that one moment." "Marta," Chandler murmured. "What happened to Marta?" The short man looked up at the taller one. "Let's skip-time him three or four hours to avoid the possibility of losing him in the avalanche." "If that doesn't work," the tall man returned, "we'll have to go all the way back to the conference and start again." "I don't know what this is all about," Chandler said. "How could you?" said the tall man. "Under your present programming, all memories have been canceled out." "What is my purpose?" "You know that." The tall man fingered a series of switches. "Think we'll have to clear him?" Chandler heard the short man ask. "No, I think we're just under the critical level." The short man leaned over Chandler and watched closely. There was another dissolve. The man's eyes were replaced by Professor Kotenko's, sparkling with alertness. "You fainted," Kotenko said. "Like a woman, you closed your eyes and fainted." "What about Marta?" Chandler asked. Kotenko smiled. "_She_ didn't faint." "Then she's all right?" "Everyone in the last three cars lived--a few broken bones, that's all. The tube separated and the front cars and some of the other vehicles were carried down into the valley. This would not be permitted in the Soviet Union." Chandler sat up. He was on the floor of a gymnasium. A brightly painted poster on the wall extolled the virtues of the Reno Union High School basketball team. Perhaps thirty others were on the floor covered with blankets and tended by doctors and nurses. "We were brought in by verti-plane," Kotenko explained. "How long has it been?" Chandler asked. "Three or four hours. A long time to be unconscious. They want to X-ray that skull of yours." * * * * * Chandler frowned. "No need of that." Again Kotenko smiled. "That's what I told them, but medical men sometimes get carried away with their importance in these emergencies." Chandler tossed the blanket from his legs and stood up. "I feel fine," he said.