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Hyatt’s guess at its age was not too far out. An obvious vertical-lift fusion jet, it probably dated from the turn of the century, and looked as if it had been built to last forever. He guessed that it was designed to operate in the five thousand-klick range, which meant that it could reach anywhere on Earth in three or four hours. Now he began to understand why all watches had been confiscated; if the flight lasted any length of time, it would be almost impossible to estimate how far they had traveled.

Though the jet was a small one, the score of passengers barely half filled it, and quickly segregated themselves into little groups. Duncan, with some skillful seatmanship, managed to get away from the van Hyatts. He was beginning to suspect that he would see—or certainly hear-more than he wanted of them before the adventure was over.

He snuggled down into the luxurious, though slightly worn, upholstery and tried his luck with the video screen. As he had expected, there was no external view, just continuous loops of canned scenery. And the global viddy channels were all blank. There would be no clues here…. There was, however, a bulky package of literature thoughtfully provided by

Enigma, and he settled down to read this. It described, in tantalizingly vague detail, the types of service provided by the organization. As far as

Duncan could judge, Enigma seemed to combine many of the functions of travel agency, psychiatrist, nursemaid, procurer, baby-sitter, father confessor, educator, and theatrical impresario. He could understand how

Calindy had been attracted to such an enterprise, and was sure that she was very good at her job.

There was a brief announcement from Boss, who had disappeared into the

crew quarters. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please prepare for takeoff. Our flight time will be between one hour and one day, and we shall not be going beyond the orbit of the Moon. Refreshments will be available shortly for those who need them. Thank you.”

There was scarcely any change of sound level in the cabin as the jet lifted and began to climb like an elevator. Presently Duncan felt a surge of forward acceleration, but by this time he had already lost all sense of direction, despite a deliberate attempt to monitor his inertial-guidance system. There was no way of telling whether they were flying north, south, east, or west.

He continued to browse through the Enigma literature, glancing from time to time at the fare provided by the video screen. If this was to be believed, they were flying in rapid succession over a desert, over the open sea, over a range of magnificent mountains, over an ice field, over clouds, over the

Moon (or Mercury), and over an apparently endless stretch of flat, cultivated fields, laid out in huge squares. This last display was particularly interesting, for Duncan was quite sure that nothing like it had existed for a couple of hundred years. However, he reluctantly dismissed the theory that Enigma Associates had managed to invent a time machine.

Presently, coffee and light snacks were brought around by the inevitable and unchanging stewardesses. Perhaps an hour later-it was amazing how soon one lost the ability to estimate the passage of time when mechanical aids were no longer available -they came around again with a second serving.

Almost immediately after this, the aircraft started to descend.

“We’ll be on the ground for about fifteen minutes,” Boss announced. “If you want to stretch your legs, you’re free to do so. But don’t get too far away; we’re not going to wait for stragglers.”

He had scarcely finished when there was a barely perceptible bump, and the whisper of the jets faded away into silence. Almost at once there was a rush to the doors. The anticlimax was considerable Wherever

they 155 were, it was already night, and all that could be seen was a large shed, lit by flickering oil lamps-oil lamps!-beneath which about twenty people were standing expectantly. The night was so dark and so completely overcast that it was impossible to see beyond the limited range of the lights. The shed was apparently standing in a large field or clearing; Duncan thought he could just see some trees at the limits of vision. There was no sign of any other form of transportation—either of land or air.

“Any guesses?” said the ubiquitous van Hyatt.

“I haven’t the faintest idea. Remember-everywhere on Earth is new to me.”

“We’re somewhere in the tropics.”

“What makes you think that? It doesn’t seem particularly warm.”

“It’s so dark. Remember, this is early summer in Washington-twilight lasts all night, and it never gets really dark.”

Duncan was aware of this, somewhere at the back of his mind; but it was theoretical knowledge, which he would never have thought of applying to a practical situation. It was very hard for a resident of Titan to understand all the implications of Earth’s seasons.

“So where do you think we are?” be asked.

“Well, we were airborne about two hours…”