some call it Terah, but nobody calls it Hell. It's--well, it's a
long--time, I guess--from when you were. I don't know. In such matters,
only the Satheri know. The Dual is closed even to the Seri. Anyhow, it's
not your space-time, though some say it's your world."

"You mean dimensional travel?" Dave asked. He'd seen something about
that on a science-fiction television program. It made even time travel
seem simple. At any event, however, this wasn't a hospital in any sane
and normal section of Canada during his time, on Earth.

"Something like that," she agreed doubtfully. "But go to sleep now.
Shh." Her hands came up in complicated gestures. "Sleep and grow well."

"None of that hypnotism again!" he protested.

She went on making passes, but smiled on him kindly. "Don't be
superstitious--hypnotism is silly. Now go to sleep. For me, Dave
Hanson. I want you well and true when you awake."

Against his will, his eyes closed, and his lips refused to obey his
desire to protest. Fatigue dulled his thoughts. But for a moment, he
went on pondering. Somebody from the future--this could never be the
past--had somehow pulled him out just ahead of the accident, apparently;
or else he'd been deep frozen somehow to wait for medical knowledge
beyond that of his own time. He'd heard it might be possible to do that.

It was a cockeyed future, if this were the future. Still, if scientists
had to set up some, sort of a religious mumbo-jumbo....

Sickness thickened in him, until he could feel his face wet with