"Cut your synchronization input and let the thing catch up."
"O.K. Um-m-m--Now, Walt."
"Has anyone any last words to say?" asked Walt.
No answer.
"Then since no one has any objections at this time, I assume that
everything may be run off. Silence, people, we are going on the air!"
"There was a very faint odor of corn in Walt's last remark," said Don.
"I think the corn was on his breath," said Arden.
"Done!" announced Walt. "Don, crack the door so that the rest of us can
laugh if it don't work."
Channing swaggered over and opened the door. He reached inside and took
out the--object.
He held it up.
"Walt," said he, "what are you giving me?"
"Huh?"
"I presume that you shipped me one of the cubes?"
"Right."
"Well, what we got at this end would positively scare the right arm off
of a surrealist sculptor."
"Hang onto it. I'll be right up."
"Hang on to it?" laughed Don. "I'm afraid to touch it."
It was three miles from one end of Venus Equilateral to the other and
Walt made it in six minutes from the time he stepped into the little
runway car to the time he came into the north-end laboratory and looked
over Channing's shoulder at the--thing--that stood on the table.
"Um," he said. "Sort of distorted, isn't it?"
"Quite," said Don. "This is glass. It was once a three-inch cube of
precision, polish, and beauty. It is now a combination of a circular
stairway with round corners and a sort of accordion pleat. Hell's
bells!"
"Be not discouraged," gurgled Walt. "No matter what it looks like, we
did transmit matter."