"Listen," I shouted straight into his ear (because of the roar), "Is she here? Where is she?" "She? There at the radio." I dashed over there. There were three of them, all with receiving helmets on. And she seemed a head taller than usual, wingy, sparkling, flying like an ancient walkyrie, and those bluish sparks from the radio seemed to emanate from her,--from her also that ethereal, lightning-like odor of ozone. "Someone--well, you for instance," I said to her, panting from having run, "I must send a message down to earth, to the docks. Come, I shall dictate it to you." Close to the apparatus there was a small box-like cabin. We sat at the table side by side. I found her hand and pressed it hard. "Well, what is going to happen?" "I don't know. Do you realize how wonderful it is? To fly without knowing where ... no matter where? It will soon be twelve o'clock and nobody knows what.... And when night.... Where shall you and I be tonight? Perhaps somewhere on the grass, on dry leaves...." Blue sparks emanated from her and the odor of lightning, and the vibration became more and more frequent within me. "Write down," I said loudly, panting (from having run), "Time: eleven-twenty; speed 5800...." "Last night she came to me with your note. I know ... I know everything; don't talk.... But the child is yours. I sent her over; she is already beyond the Wall. She will live...." I was back on the commander's bridge, back in the delirious night with its black, starry sky and its dazzling sun. The hands of the clock on the table were slowly moving from minute to minute. Everything was permeated by a thin, hardly perceptible quivering (only I noticed it). For some reason a thought passed through my head: it would be better if all this took place not here but somewhere below, nearer to earth. "Stop!" I commanded. We kept moving by inertia, but more and more slowly. Now the _Integral_ was caught for a second by an imperceptible little hair--for a second it hung motionless, then the little hair broke and the _Integral_ like a stone dashed downward with increasing speed. That way in silence, minutes, tens of minutes passed. My pulse was audible; the hand of the clock before my eyes came closer and closer to twelve. It was clear to me I was a stone; I-330 the earth; and the stone was under irresistible compulsion to fall downward, to strike the earth and break into small particles. What if...? Already the hard blue smoke of the clouds appeared below.... What if...? But the phonograph within me with a hinge-like motion and precision took the telephone and commanded: "Low speed!" The stone ceased falling. Only the four lower tubes were growling, two ahead and two aft, only enough to hold the _Integral_ motionless, and the _Integral_, only slightly trembling, stopped in the air as if anchored, about one kilometer from the earth.