 Which word doesn't describe the security guard?
There is one fact no sane man can quarrel with ... You will, you know, so why quibble about it? At least, you always have ... or do ... or will. Yes, it'll be pretty obvious it must be a time machine. You start to say something, but by then I'm pressing a black button, and everything outside will disappear. You are completely outside of time and space, as best you can guess how things are. Doesn't hurt, and when you pull your arm back, you're still sound and uninjured. "Maybe it's no dimension—or it might be the fifth; if you're going to skip over the so-called fourth without traveling along it, you'd need a fifth. I figured out once that such a universe would need some seven or eight time and space dimensions. Maybe there is no machine, and it's just easier for us to imagine it. That means you either carry a small time field with you, or you are catching a small increment of time from the main field. You suddenly realize that everything in the machine is wide open, yet you haven't seen any effects of air loss. Out there is neither time nor space, apparently. Maybe the machine has a gravity field built in, or maybe the time that makes your watch run is responsible for gravity. You feel a dankish sort of air replace the stale air, and you breathe easier, though we're in complete darkness, except for the weak light in the machine, which always burns, and a few feet of rough dirty cement floor around. We have to walk up a flight of stairs, and there is an elevator waiting, fortunately with the door open. There's no feeling of acceleration—some kind of false gravity they use in the future. A second later, you see me going by, mixed into a crowd that is loafing along toward a restaurant, or something like it, that is just opening. Some of them can be decoded to stationery shops, fountains, and the like. But there is only a single picture of a dull-looking metal sphere, with passengers moving up a ramp, and the office is closed. You wouldn't care if you saw a man in a leopard-skin suit; you'd figure it was some part in a play and let it go. You go right until you find a big sign built into the rubbery surface of the walk: Miuzi:m *v Syens .
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