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“Good Lord!” Don gasped. “That’s an atomic reactor down there!” There could be no doubt about it, even though he could see it only obscurely through the bluish-green plastic shielding it.

His thoughts were so clamorous that he hardly realized that he had spoken aloud, or that the door at the end of the balcony had opened.

He was only dimly aware of the approaching footsteps as he speculated wildly on the nature of the shielding material. What could be so dense that only an inch would provide adequate shielding and yet remain semitransparent?

His scientist’s mind applauded the genius who had developed it, even as the alarming conviction grew that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—be allowed to leave here any more. Surely no man would be allowed to leave this place alive to tell the fantastic story to the world!

“Hello, Don,” said a quiet voice beside him. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Dr. Crandon!” he heard his own voice reply. “You’re the Grand Chairman of POSAT?”

He felt betrayed and sick at heart. The very voice with which Crandon had spoken conjured up visions of quiet lecture halls and his own youthful excitement at the masterful and orderly disclosure of scientific facts. To find him here in this mad and treacherous place—didn’t anything make sense any longer?