aware that his memory
would be erased and the skies, and the ocean, and the green hills. His
name would be gone. Paul would die. And the city would be his tomb.

Quickly he turned down a side street, saw the small figure leaning
against the corner of the building.

Walking rapidly toward him, as though he were being chased, he saw the
lean, ruddy face smile and the deep, blue eyes look at him; heard the
voice gently say:

"Welcome, Paul."

"The last card," said Twenty-three.

The little man handed it to him, quickly. "Good luck. Turn the dials one
extra point on the control panel. Our men have made the machine ready.
It's time now."

Twenty-three thrust the card into the inner pocket of his jacket. So
that _was_ it. They _had_ changed the machine.

"One extra point," he repeated, glancing up and down the street.

"And remember," said the little man. "Destroy all the cards you've used
before. They were designed particularly for you. If you don't make it
across to us, the Superfathers will use the cards against you."

Twenty-three whirled around. The little man had gone. Twenty-three
suddenly felt weak. My God! The other cards! Left in the machine! If his
wife--!

He stood very still for a long moment, then he ran!

The door to his apartment swung open. The room beyond was empty. A light
shown faintly. He stood for a moment, listening. Silence. He stepped to
the bedroom. The top of his wife's sleeping tube was closed. He could
see her face through the transparent square, could hear her quiet
breathing.

In one quick, silent motion, he stepped to the side of his own tube,
pulling the last card from his pocket, and dropped it into the glowing
slot at the top of the black control panel. Then he turned the dials to
the extra point.

Several minutes later he pressed the button at the bottom of the control
panel. The top opened. At the same moment, he heard a step behind him.
He whirled around. The Superfather stood in the doorway. At his back
hovered the dark bulks of two other men. Twenty-three felt his muscles
lock. He saw the Superfather's dead smile and then his wife stepping
down to the floor and hurrying to the side of the Superfather.

"Those pictures," she said, shuddering. "They were so--strange."

The Superfather held his eyes on Twenty-three but spoke to the woman.
"Thank God you were strong. It was commendable of you to call us."

"I don't know what made me look at his dreams," she cried. "Maybe