"I don't care," I said miserably. "I'm going to die either way, so what does it matter?" Then I realized the foolishness of my own attitude. I was due to face death; why not do it bravely? So I shut up. I waited. Hours passed. Then the cell door swung open, and Lola walked in. "Ready to go make your speech, pal? Remember--all of masculine mankind's future depends on the pitch you make." "Okay," I said. "I'll go." But my knees were quivering, and I didn't really mean it. He handed me a small round capsule. "This is the photonic amplifier. When I give you the signal, just switch it on and start to talk. You'll be heard all over the city." "Downtrodden males of the world, unite!" I said, grinning despite myself. "All right, Lola. I'll do what I can in the name of mankind." "You'd better," he said ominously. What happened after that is pretty hazy. Lola and Clara led me through a fantastic passageway into the open, and conducted me to the Central Plaza. I remember making a speech of some kind. I remember three of the amazon women racing madly toward me, trying to reach me and shut me up. I remember starting to run in the middle of my speech, turning, slugging it out with the three women. They were like pillars of stone. They closed in on me. And I blanked out. Sometime later, I awoke-- And saw the patient, kindly face of Professor Ostrov peering down at me. "What are _you_ doing here?" I demanded. "Did you suspend yourself too? And what's been going on?" "This is the year 1957, son," he said calmly. "Everything is all right." "Like hell it is," I snapped. "Where am I? What--" "You're in my laboratory," he said. "You've been under-going preliminary psychological tests before I put you into the somno-casket. I've been keeping close electroencephalographic check on you all the time you were living through that purely fictional incident." I sat bolt upright. "You mean that never happened?" "Merely a test," he said mildly. "But I'm happy to report that you showed commendable adaptability in strange situations, that you handled yourself well--though we observed one momentary lapse in stability--and that, in general--" I got off the table and silenced him. "I want to thank you, Doctor." "What for?" "For giving me a second chance," I said. I reached for my clothes and started getting into them. "I've had one look at the future, and maybe it was a phony, but it taught me one thing--life can't be any worse here." "Are you, then, planning to withdraw from the experiment?" he asked, gaping. "Damned right I am!" I smiled happily, put on my coat, and left the lab without a further word. I knew now that there was no sense in running off to the future; things weren't any simpler there. I knew what I would do: I would find my girl, take her out someplace, talk over all our misunderstandings. I was confident we'd patch things up somehow.