He wondered what had gone wrong, but he had recovered from his fright by
this time. When this insane machine stopped, as it must around the First
Century of the Atomic Era, he would investigate, make repairs, then
shift forward to his target-point. Hradzka was determined upon the
Fifty-Second Century; he had made a special study of the history of that
period, had learned the language spoken then, and he understood the
methods necessary to gain power over the natives of that time.

The indicator-disc came to a stop, in the First Century. He switched on
the magnifier and leaned forward to look; he had emerged into normal
time in the year 10 of the Atomic Era, a decade after the first
uranium-pile had gone into operation, and seven years after the first
atomic bombs had been exploded in warfare. The altimeter showed that he
was hovering at eight thousand feet above ground-level.

Slowly, he cut out the antigrav, letting the "time machine" down easily.
He knew that there had been no danger of materializing inside anything;
the New Tower had been built to put it above anything that had occupied
that space-point at any moment within history, or legend, or even the
geological knowledge of man. What lay below, however, was uncertain. It
was night--the visi-screen showed only a star-dusted, moonless-sky, and
dark shadows below. He snapped another switch; for a few micro-seconds a
beam of intense light was turned on, automatically photographing the
landscape under him. A second later, the developed picture was projected
upon another screen; it showed only wooded mountains and a barren,
brush-grown valley.

* * * * *

The "time-machine" came to rest with a soft jar and a crashing of broken