"About what?" "That this is Wisconsin." "Yes; it certainly is." "Well, what day is it and time?" "Wednesday, February 14th, 1968 and--and precisely 8:25 a.m." She was silent for a moment, letting the parka fall away from her lovely face; then she said, "But it was only a few moments ago, considering the difference in time zones, that I was at Cape Canaveral. They were activating HOAGS today and I was there with Dad. How--how could I possibly be in Wisconsin now?" "That," I said, "_is_ the question. With a capital Q. How could you possibly--" I stopped in shock. Those dark eyes had been looking directly at me--and the image of them was planted on my retinal patterns like a commercial symbol lingering on a stereo tube--but she, eyes and all--and I do mean _all_--was _gone_. Just like that. Blinko. Not over and out. Just out. * * * * * I know I acted irrationally then. I scurried around the quickly warming room, searching behind the proton beam accelerator, the control and monitor consoles, the relay racks and equipment cabinets, feeling that she just had to be somewhere! The door opened. I whirled around expectantly. It wasn't she; it was George Herrmann, my assistant. George regarded me searchingly, his lean face lugubrious. "What gives, Bob?" he asked. "You look as if you'd lost the world!" "Maybe I have," I said, leaping to the visifone. George watched me button Miami Exchange and said, "You realize what Jack Hagen thinks about long distance calls!" I ignored him. I realized all right. Hagen's project boss and has laid the law down plenty on the question of what he considers unnecessary calls--but how can a scientist operate if he can't call up others in his specialty when he gets the glimmerings of a new idea? Miami answered and I asked for General Schoener at Patrick Air Force Base. Priority. I've top secret clearance and I put my marked I.D. card on the pick-up, too. Abruptly a brush-mustached frozen military face regarded me. "So you're Robert Mitchell of UNACMEA/WAGS," the face growled. "Well, make it short." "It's about your daughter, General," I said. The face became human. "But what can _you_ know about Elaine? You're in Wisconsin, aren't you?" And, at my nod, "Well, she vanished from here when we activated HOAGS. Don't--don't tell me--" "Yes, she was _here_," I said. "Just a few minutes ago. Said that HOAGS exploded." His twitching brows drew down. "It didn't explode. There was a defect in the ring and particles of anti-matter we haven't yet named escaped. That was just before we missed Elaine! Now, Mitchell, are you sure she was there? Can you describe her?" I felt that my descriptive detail was rather good, coming as it did from a confirmed bachelor whose attention had theretofore been devoted to scientific tomes and atom-smashers. He nodded perplexedly as I finished. "Well, how do you account for it?"