I took a couple of steps in and then a little old coot in a white jacket bustled across the room, saw me, nodded, and went about his business. He hadn't taken more than another three steps when he stopped and came back to me. It was a real slow take. He said: "I don't quite--" and then he broke off doubtfully. He had a withered, faraway look, as though he'd spent all his life trying to remember he was alive. I said: "I'm Carmichael." "Oh yes!" he began, brightening a little. Then his face got dubious again. I played it real smart. I said: "I'm with Stabilizer Groating." "Secretary?" "Yeah." "You know, Mr. Mitchel," he said, "I can't help feeling that despite the gloomier aspects there are some very encouraging features. The Ultimate Datum System that we have devised should bring us down to surveys of the near future in a short time--" He gave me a quizzical glance like a dog begging for admiration on his hind legs. I said: "Really?" "It stands to reason. After all, once a technique has been devised for pushing analysis into the absolute future, a comparatively simple reversal should bring it as close as tomorrow." I said: "It should at that"--and wondered what he was talking about. Now that some of the fright had worn off I was feeling slightly disappointed. Here I expected to find the Hyperman who was handing down Sinai Decrees to our bosses and I walk into a multiplied clock. He was rather pleased. He said: "You think so?" "I think so." "Will you mention that to Mr. Groating? I feel it might encourage him--" I got even smarter. I said: "To tell you the truth, sir, the Stabilizer sent me up for a short review. I'm new to the staff and unfortunately I was delayed in Washington." He said; "_Tut-tut_, forgive me. Step this way, Mr. ... Mr. Ahh--" So I stepped his way and we went weaving through the clock-works to a desk at one side of the room. There were half a dozen chairs behind it and he seated me alongside himself. The flat top of the desk was banked with small tabs and push buttons so that it looked like a stenotype. He pressed one stud and the room darkened. He pressed another and the _bam-bam_ quickened until it was a steady hum. The octahedron crystal whirled so quickly that it became a shadowy mist of light under the projectors. "I suppose you know," the old coot said in rather self-conscious tones, "that this is the first time we've been able to push our definitive analysis to the ultimate future. We'd never have done it if Wiggons hadn't developed his self-checking data system." I said: "Good for Wiggons," and I was more confused than ever. I tell you, boys, it felt like waking up from a dream you couldn't quite remember. You know that peculiar sensation of having everything at the edge of your mind so to speak and not being able to get hold of it--I had a thousand clues and inferences jangling around in my head and none of them would interlock. But I knew this was big stuff.