Horning's married life was unbearable so
he sought peace in another dimension. But was
his past somehow linked with other worlds?...
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
July 1952
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It was nearly four o'clock in the windowless basement laboratory when
Horning screwed tight the last connection.
He straightened, shrugged the kinks from his back and shoulders, and
wiped his hands clean on a wad of waste. Crossing to the battered desk
in the corner, he pushed back Margaret's picture, got out pen and
paper, and wrote briefly:
_Dear Myrtle_,
_It's time we faced facts. I never should have married you after
Margaret died. My work means everything to me; I can't give it up.
But you detest the whole business of being a scientist's wife.
Knowing how you feel about the "shame" of divorce, I won't ask
you to let me leave you legally. There's a better way out. By the
time you read this, I'll either have breached and bridged the
space-time continuum to another plane, or I'll be dead. In either
case, you'll be happier with me gone. My patent royalties and
insurance will take care of you as long as you live._
_Good luck, and I'm sorry it didn't work out._
_Raymond._
Horning weighted the letter down in the center of the desk. Then,
pushing back his chair, he picked up Margaret's picture.
She smiled up at him as always, so real the sight of her brought a
tightness to his throat. When he closed his eyes, he could almost hear
her voice, rippling with gay, gentle laughter. He felt her lips on
his ... her dark, silken hair against his cheek.
Only Margaret had lain in her grave for three years now....
Horning drew a quick, shallow breath. Sliding the photo from its frame,
he tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt.
Back at the workbench, he heaved up the bulky transdimensional
registration unit, strapped it on and adjusted the scanning scope to
the proper angle against his chest. Dial by dial, circuit by circuit,
he checked the light-loop's control panel.
Everything was ready.
This was the moment he'd worked for ... the great gamble, the final
test. Not even Myrtle could stop him now.
Palm slick with sweat, he gripped the master switch and shoved it shut.
Purple light flared in the tubes set in the light-loop's door-like
metal frame. The blank wall behind it took on the familiar translucent
glow.
Horning opened the intensifier channels and increased the alpha and
gamma readings.
The light turned silver. The wall behind the framework disappeared.
* * * * *
Horning stepped onto the ramp that led up to the frame. In the humming
stillness he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat, drumming faster
and faster. The sharp, chlorine-like smell of ozone filled the air.
For an instant, then, he hesitated, acutely conscious of an
uncontrollable trembling. Sweat drenched him; the sour stench of it cut
through the ozone.
He thought: _Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm crazy to think I can cross
the barrier between the worlds._
Upstairs, the front door slammed. The house echoed with the thud of
heavy footsteps.
Myrtle's footsteps--!
Horning sucked in one final, desperate breath and stepped through the
light-loop's frame.
It was so simple, really. Just like going out a doorway, into a
limitless expanse of shining silver plain. He felt no pain, no shock,
not even slight discomfort.
Swiftly, skillfully, he adjusted the transdimensional registration
unit's dials.
Light flickered on the scanning scope's screen, a shapeless blur.
Horning twisted the focussing knob. The blur resolved. A scene took
form.
Taut with excitement, Horning stared for the first time into another
world.
The place was an apartment, he decided. But what an apartment! It
shimmered like a modernist's sparkling dream. The decor was brilliant,
unique in style. Metal and plastic combined in sleek, functional forms.
Nor was this all. A man stood by a table, back to the screen, mixing a
drink. While Horning watched, he restoppered the bottle and stepped out
a door to the right.
Horning frowned. He had a strange feeling, somehow, that he'd seen the
man somewhere before.
Shrugging it off, he lined up the crosshairs on the screen with
infinite care and switched the projector drive to high.
Before his very eyes, the shining silver plain dissolved. The shadowy
walls of the room on the screen rose about him. Furnishings appeared in
misty outline.
Horning pressed the reintegrator button.
The walls lost their shadow. The furnishings took on solid form.
Horning came to rest with a heavy thud, sprawled in the center of the
floor.
Behind him, there was a stir of sudden movement; a choked exclamation.
Before he could turn or regain his feet, a man's tight voice clipped,
"Don't move--or you die!"
Horning froze. "There's no need to be frightened," he said quickly.
"I'm merely a--a traveler. I've come here from another plane--"
"I understand perfectly!" the voice snapped back. "I happen to be an
authority on such matters. That's why I say--if you move, you die!"
Horning's spine prickled. Just as he'd had the feeling he'd seen the
man on the screen before, now it came to him that the voice, too, was
strangely familiar.
* * * * *
Behind him, shoes scraped the floor. Fingers probed warily at his
pockets, his belt, his armpits. Then they went away again and the voice
said, "All right. Now take off that outfit."
Wordless, wooden-fingered, Horning unstrapped the transdimensional
registration unit's harness.
"Get up!" the voice commanded.
Horning obeyed.
"Now sit down on that lounge in front of you, with your hands on the
arms."
Horning crossed to the divan and turned around. For the first time, he
faced his captor.
It was the same man Horning had seen on the screen. He stood poised,
cat-footed, back against the gleaming metaloid wall. An ugly,
snub-nosed pistol of strange design was in his hand.
And his face was Horning's face.
Horning went rigid--shocked, half unbelieving.
"Down!" rapped his counterpart.
Horning sank numbly to the seat.
"Who are you? Why did you come here?"
Some of the numbness left Horning. Cold anger came in its place. "Why
ask me?" he lashed back. "I thought you knew all the answers."