as in vain, for
Dorchin was undoubtedly aware of every move he made. But no one
stopped him, and he found another door.

It was a simple enough door from the inside. But when he opened it and
stepped out, it was like nothing he had ever seen.

First there was light--brilliant, incredible, blinding light.
Burckhardt blinked upward, unbelieving and afraid.

He was standing on a ledge of smooth, finished metal. Not a dozen
yards from his feet, the ledge dropped sharply away; he hardly dared
approach the brink, but even from where he stood he could see no
bottom to the chasm before him. And the gulf extended out of sight
into the glare on either side of him.

* * * * *

No wonder Dorchin could so easily give him his freedom! From the
factory, there was nowhere to go--but how incredible this fantastic
gulf, how impossible the hundred white and blinding suns that hung
above!

A voice by his side said inquiringly, "Burckhardt?" And thunder rolled
the name, mutteringly soft, back and forth in the abyss before him.

Burckhardt wet his lips. "Y-yes?" he croaked.

"This is Dorchin. Not a robot this time, but Dorchin in the flesh,
talking to you on a hand mike. Now you have seen, Burckhardt. Now will
you be reasonable and let the maintenance crews take over?"

Burckhardt stood paralyzed. One of the moving mountains in the
blinding glare came toward him.

It towered hundreds of feet over his head; he stared up at its top,
squinting helplessly into the light.

It looked like--

Impossible!

The voice in the loudspeaker at the door said, "Burckhardt?" But he
was unable to answer.

A heavy rumbling sigh. "I see," said the voice. "You finally
understand. There's no place to go. You know it now. I could have told
you, but you might not have believed me, so it was better for you to
see it yourself. And after all, Burckhardt, why would I reconstruct a
city just the way it was before? I'm a businessman; I count costs. If
a thing has to be full-scale, I build it that way. But there wasn't
any need to in this case."

From the mountain before him, Burckhardt helplessly saw a lesser cliff
descend carefully toward him. It was long and dark, and at the end of
it was whiteness, five-fingered whiteness....

"Poor little Burckhardt," crooned the loudspeaker, while the echoes
rumbled through the enormous chasm that was only a workshop. "It must
have been quite a shock for you to find out you were l