untain Range. Now there was nothing but swirling
clouds of gray and columns of particles and debris, a surging tide of
restless material gradually sweeping off and dissipating in all
directions.

The Albertine Mountains had been disintegrated. Nothing remained but
these vast clouds of debris. Below, on the ground, a ragged plain
stretched out, swept by fire and ruin. Gaping wounds yawned, immense
holes without bottom, craters side by side as far as the eye could
see. Craters and debris. Like the blasted, pitted surface of the moon.
Two hours ago it had been rolling peaks and gulleys, brush and green
bushes and trees.

Cole turned away.

"You see?" Sherikov snapped the screen off. "You were down there, not
so long ago. All that noise and smoke--all for you. All for you, Mr.
Variable Man from the past. Reinhart arranged that, to finish you off.
I want you to understand that. It's very important that you realize
that."

Cole said nothing.

Sherikov reached into a drawer of the table before him. He carefully
brought out a small square box and held it out to Cole. "You wired
this, didn't you?"

Cole took the box in his hands and held it. For a time his tired mind
failed to focus. What did he have? He concentrated on it. The box was
the children's toy. The inter-system vidsender, they had called it.

"Yes. I fixed this." He passed it back to Sherikov. "I repaired that.
It was broken."

Sherikov gazed down at him intently, his large eyes bright. He nodded,
his black beard and cigar rising and falling. "Good. That's all I
wanted to know." He got suddenly to his feet, pushing his chair back.
"I see the doctor's here. He'll fix you up. Everything you need. Later
on I'll talk to you again."

Unprotesting, Cole got to his feet, allowing the doctor to take hold
of his arm and help him up.

After Cole had been released by the medical department, Sherikov
joined him in his private dining room, a floor above the actual
laboratory.

The Pole gulped down a hasty meal, talking as he ate. Cole sat
silently across from him, not eating or speaking. His old clothing had
been taken away and new clothing given him. He was shaved and rubbed
down. His sores and cuts were healed, his body and hair washed. He
looked much healthier and younger, now. But he was still stooped and
tired, his blue eyes worn and faded. He listened to Sherikov's account
of the world of 2136 AD without comment.

"You can see," Sherikov said finally, wavin