n and counteracted the pressure
somewhat. Yet the face was being damaged, and if things were
normal, blood would have flowed.

The man had been dead so long however, that (though he was still
warm) his blood must have congealed, for it was fully two minutes
before it began to ooze.

"Whatever I have done, I have done enough damage," said Vincent.
"And, in whatever nightmare I am in, I am likely to do further
harm if I meddle more. I had better leave it alone."

He walked on down the morning street. Yet whatever vehicles he
saw were moving with an incredible slowness, as though driven by
some fantastic gear reduction. And there were people here and
there frozen solid. It was a chilly morning, but it was not that
cold. They were immobile in positions of motion, as though they
were playing the children's game of Statues.

"How is it," said Charles Vincent, "that this young girl (who I
believe works across the street from us) should have died
standing up and in full stride? But, no. She is not dead. Or, if
so, she died with a very alert expression. And--oh, my God, she's
doing it too!"

For he realized that the eyes of the girl were closing, and in
the space of no more than a quarter of a second they had
completed their cycle and were open again. Also, and this was
even stranger, she had moved, moved forward in full stride. He
would have timed her if he could, but how could he when all the
clocks were crazy? Yet she must have been taking about two steps
a minute.

He went into the cafeteria. The early morning crowd that he had
often watched through the windows was there. The girl who made
flapjacks in the window had just flipped one and it hung in the
air. Then it floated over as if caught by a slight breeze, and
sank slowly down as if settling in water.

The breakfasters, like the people in the street, were all dead in
this new way, moving with almost imperceptible motion. And all
had apparently died in the act of drinking coffee, eating eggs,
or munching toast. And if there were only time enough, there was
even a chance that they would get the drinking, eating, and
munching done with, for there was the shadow of movement in them
all.

The cashier had the register drawer open and money in her hand,
and the hand of the customer was outstretched for it. In time,
somewhere in the new leisurely time, the hands would come
together and the change be given. And so it happened. It may have
been a minute and a half, o