go back again. And then, according to the sacred teachings of Tallu, this monument to our science will shatter, and in all the world of Quenna there will not be enough leuyte to build another machine." He was silent, then presently he added, "But our one chance will succeed. It cannot be otherwise. Are you ready?"
The four scientists nodded and each took his place at the levers and silver bars that studded the control board. At a sign from Lito, each began the operations which he had learned so long ago. They worked in deathly quiet, their hands moving skillfully, surely.
Thin beams of light of many colors began to play about the machine. Now they began to twine about each other, forming twisting pillars of rainbows. Faster and faster the lights spun, until the sheen of their speed had formed a veil that obscured the machine. The transparent walls turned opaque, and a sigh went up from the men who stood around it. It had begun—
"GET offa my bed," Mike Tracy said, moodily. "Get them dirty shoes offa my bed." He reached to the dresser for a hairbrush and threw it at his roommate, Sammy Green. Sammy barely rolled his head out of the way, and the brush dented the wall and bounced off. Immediately, someone on the other side of the wall started hammering. A muffled voice cried, "If you drunken bums don’t stop fighting—"
"Thazz what I say," said Sammy, nodding his head heavily. "That is ezzact—excactly my sentiments. Whazz got into you, anyhow?'
"Nothing," Mike said, disgusted. "You get them dirty shoes off my bed before I chop your feet off. Where's the axe?" He got up unsteadily from the broken couch. "You seen the axe, Sammy-old-boy?"
"It so happens," Sammy said, raising himself on one elbow and shaking a finger, "that thizzizz my bed. How do you like that?"
Mike Tracy squinted and looked around the room slowly.
"Well," he chuckled, "whadda you know about that?” He snickered at himself a moment, then suddenly his face darkened. "Don't think I forgot," he said. "Dirty two-timer, that's what you are. Fine friend, going out with my girl. Fine friend."
Sammy fell back again and made a cooing sound.
"If you can wear my ties, I can go out with your girl," he said, closing his eyes.
"Who sezz?"
"Me. Samuel Green. Sambo, wambo mumbo jumbo Green."
"I don't care what your whole family says," said Mike. "She's my girl and she's in love with me."
"She's in love with my ties," said Sammy. "Me. Sambo wambo."
Mike fished around on the floor and picked up a slipper. Taking careful aim, he hurled the slipper across the room. It struck a picture, and slipper and picture crashed to the floor. Inarticulate cries came through the wall. Presently Mike said:
"I don't like this apartment. Neighbors alla time making noise."
"All dead drunk," said Sammy.
"Yeah," Mike said bitterly. "You take out my girl, and when I get a bottle of Scotch to drown my sorrow, you drink my Scotch."
"If you can wear my ties, I can drink your Scotch."
Mike made a mournful sound, and minutes passed in a hazy dream before he spoke again. Then he said:
"Sammy, I don't feel so good. Got all kinds of lights in my head."
"Me too," said Sammy. "Passa bottle, please."
