Flash
Gordon accessory-hair drier combination was set over it. Jenkins flipped
a switch and the room became bright with light. "I thought you said this
wasn't a thrill ride," Allenby said, looking at the helmetlike structure
ominously hanging over the chair.

"It isn't," Jenkins said, smiling. "Sit down." He strapped the buyer
into place in the chair.

"Hey, wait a minute," Allenby protested. "Why the straps?"

"Leave everything to me and don't worry," Jenkins said, fitting the
headgear into place over the buyer's head. The back of it fitted easily
over the entire rear of the skull, down to his neck. The front came just
below the eyes. After turning the light off, Jenkins pulled the curtain
closed. It was completely black inside.

"Have a nice trip," Jenkins said, pulling a switch on the wall and
pushing a button on the back of the chair at the same time.

Currents shifted and repatterned themselves inside the helmet and were
fed into Allenby at the base of his skull, at the medulla. The currents
of alternating ions mixed with the currents of his varied and random
brain waves, and the impulses of one became the impulses of the other.
Allenby jerked once with the initial shock and was then still, his mind
and body fused with the pulsating currents of the chair.

Suddenly, Roger Allenby was almost blinded by bright, naked light.
Allenby's first impression was one of disappointment at the failure of
the device. Jenkins was reliable, usually, and hadn't come up with a
fluke yet.

Allenby got out of the chair and called for Jenkins, holding on to the
arm of the chair to keep his bearings. "Hey! Where are you? Jenkins!" He
tried to look around him but the bright, intense light revealed nothing.
He swore to himself, extending his arms in front of him for something to
grasp. As he groped for a solid, the light became more subdued and
shifted from white into a light, pleasant blue.

* * * * *

Shapes and forms rearranged themselves in front of him and gradually
became distinguishable. He was in a city, or on top of a city. A
panoramic view was before him and he saw the creations of human beings,
obviously, but a culture far removed from his. A slight path of white
began at his feet and expanded as it fell slightly, ramplike, over and
into the city. The buildings were whiter than the gate of false dreams
that Penelope sung of and the streets and avenues were blue, not gray.
The people wo