Stripped of their and armor, they set the and themselves into the of the tanks. A warm, into them at with the viscous, fluid. Weariness into their muscles. Their buckled, and they into the gelatin.
"All okay, Babs?" he asked.
"Okay, Ed."
Then their under that surface. Their minds and were out. They no longer needed to breathe.
The into a smaller, or, in a sense, a region, was without their awareness, in a single step. There was no need to pause at middle size, by the but easily visible doll-like in the minute tank. Mitchell Prell's labors in two size need not be done again, for that work was finished. The direct path was prepared. There was a of impulses, like that of the old-time of over wires. Gelatins already of responded, and moved tediously, and took shape, in a still-smaller vat. And it was the same with the meant to mind, memory and personality. They also were in a medium, and by a different than their originals—but repeated. So, in more than an hour, the of two beings were re-created in the of of dust.
Awareness returned to Ed. At it was like a of dreams, out of which came of a successful transformation, and of where he must be. Panic followed, but briefly. He was in a thick, substance. His entire body, his face, was in it. He was that he would smother—yet the to breathe was subdued.
Fighting the stuff, he that he great strength—relatively. Some of this was the power in him. Perhaps more of it was the relative of everything, in size. An was than a man—a of smaller dimensions. And here, a like glue, its long and tough. Water itself, not flat, but into dewdrops, would have almost as sticky.
Ed Dukas, or his likeness, got clear of the and its contents, though much of the still to him. On all he it with him, a of it in his wake on a rough, surface. He around and around until he himself of most of the gelatin.
With and wonder and dread, his mind through a moment of time to the of his present and to test them. Even the act of in the he now was different. His mouth was almost inside. He still air into his nostrils, but some of energy that was nuclear. His hands and his still looked and to him. And he memories—of people he knew, he had seen, and of he had learned. Here he to himself. Those memories were clear enough; but were they already a little importance, were they too to be about in this place?
That thought, again, was panic at work—a of from all that he familiar. For the lamp over him as as the sun. The of the less-than-miniature a metal-sheened tower. And in his mind there was the that his present must be of a different design to meet different conditions. He that he the of a heart, more fluids.
And something about his had changed. Close by, was blurred, as if he were far-sighted. Farther off, objects hazed, as by drifting, that weren't but that seemed—each of them—to be by that the view of what them. And there were so many of in motion, at this middle-distance but ashimmer. Were those the of air themselves?
At a distance, came again. For there the which was not at all but which of too much detail—in too a grain, as under too much magnification—was lost. Light and dark, and familiar rich colors. And he saw the whole room around him almost as he used to see it, for its vastness.
For a little while Ed about his new eyes. They were to familiar lengths of light. Those lengths were not too coarse—at least when from objects. For nearer things, he was not at all sure that he see as well as he by ordinary light. Was his vision, in this segment, electronic, then? Did he see, close at hand, of strange, hues? Were these colors? Or were there natural lengths, above the spectrum, which too-massive had been unable to detect?
This question was quickly, there was too much more. Now he looked again, very briefly, out into the of air, full of debris—jagged that glinted, a structure, like the of trees, though they had the of floss. All of it was of one or another. Ed the and as of it collided. Everywhere there were of sound, which a constant, in the world he knew.
Gingerly now he across the surface, toward the from which he had and its companion. Barbara was his concern. There she was, in the second vat, in a of gelatin. Already she was trying to free. He arms into the and at her to help her. He her out easily and helped away the gelatin, while he about how she might to a change. To the of it, he up a of talk, in a voice that a little as it used to be:
"... We it, Babs. Down to bottom, you might say. I don't think that any shape be much smaller. Or any machine, for that matter. Remember some old stories? Little men in jungles, and things? Strange, unheard-of adventure, in those days! Maybe we can try it sometime. Except that a spider, or an aphid, wouldn't notice us. We're too small."
A little pink with a jaw, she only to as she around with large eyes.
Later, like two savages, they were themselves in of from what looked like a sleeping pallet. A was across it in a way that Ed of the safety by which of and space ships themselves to their seats take-offs and landings. Here, Prell, the android, must take his moments of rest. Some of the was than spiderweb, but it was still to Ed and his wife in their present state, as they its around them.
"You look beautiful, darling," he said. "You're just as you were."
Barbara slightly. "Even here I'm to respond to compliments, Eddie," she answered. "Where's Prell?"
Her voice was a thin in the of sounds. And it was worried. Ed and Barbara the presence of someone of here, where was changed—where minute of air on you upward, so that you would helplessly, like a mote. You up gingerly, meaning to try walking a step. But that mode of not only here but impractical. You be away, and in the all around, how one another again? Too much of what you were used to was already. Even the of walking no longer properly. The air was a buoyant, substance, a presence of impacts, and there was little for one's feet. Perhaps, then, here you in the air.
Ed spoke at last: "My uncle can't be away. He'll come to us. It's been only a moment."
Barbara to him, afraid. "Eddie, am I me anymore? Can I old of talking, and old to talk about? Here? Everything too different. Damn—I accept the idea of there being two of anyone! Us up in those other tanks—giants asleep. And yet us here! Maybe we're different already—shaped by other surroundings! And how little we are and how helpless. Moving a of would be like walking a mile. And we came here to see if we a way to out the at home. We're now, aren't we? A special kind. But we still have the for the old emotions. Damn it again, Eddie, around us in this place is so strange. But it's beautiful, too."
He her and said nothing. But her his own.
Suddenly there was a rumble, like thunder. In a more familiar size level, it would have been a and a thud, through many yards of granite. They it. Ed chuckled.
"Whoever or was the machine," he said. "Remember?"
Just then Mitchell Prell's appeared, a comic, in a of that twigs. He out of the of atmosphere—the fall-guy of an that had over its own achievements. And in of those very achievements, he had taken refuge.
He near Ed and Barbara and their hands cordially. Then out of him excitedly: "Ed. Barbara. We've got to hurry. But we should put our minds about one another. I know that home you were on the of and good sense. Well, so am I. There haven't been many new added to my since you me, Eddie. I want knowledge to into all that it can give us. I think you do, too. Now tell me how you feel."
Mitchell Prell still Ed Dukas. Even here, at this opposite, smaller end of the cosmos, he again his towers of the future.
"There were moments when I bitter," he said, in not too a fashion. "But in the main I'm with what you just said—all the way. I put my life on it as a pledge."
Barbara solemnly.
"Thanks," Prell answered, the that he'd for speech out of him. "I'm more than I can tell. You two may think that we're too tiny—that our size makes us powerless. I don't that's true. I was on Earth as I am, you know. I there and back—undetected—on space liners. But while on Earth I missed many opportunities to act against danger. Maybe I'd been here too long, close to the of matter, studying them. And I to Earth in materials and experience. Well, I think you can see how it was. Let it go for now. Visitors are at our door. I we've got to try to meet them in the manner that they deserve."
"Call the shots!" Ed said impatiently.
Mitchell Prell wistfully. "The main part is done," he replied. "I set the small of the large for of the in them—our larger selves. That was why I was in to you here. They are colossi. They cannot hide. And they must be defended. I'm sorry, they are able to themselves than we are to them. At least they will have a alive than inert. Revival takes a little time, but in a moment you will see."
Ed did not know what to think about this action on his uncle's part—whether to agree to it or to that it was somehow a mistake. Circumstances were too here, and he was too inexperienced. And the whole itself was with for him. Two selves, named Edward Dukas? It was not a new in the ideas of the times. You that it be. Yet it a of hard to out. Barbara to him again, her to his own.
"It's happening," she whispered.
And it was. From their on the scored, surface under a microscope, they looked out past the minute and the cables, and that had them special being, and across the of air, they saw those other vats, glassy, too, and tall as mountains.
It then that the opened, unfolded, taller, Atlases that over a wall. There was no of mind now—these three were other people, for the link had been in the past. There was no of consciousness.
Now there were almost too in this region to be called sounds. They were more like shocks. But Ed that they were just the of normal movement—the Ed, Barbara and Mitch on their boots, the of their footsteps. Meanwhile they conversed, it seemed; but their voices were only a quiver, a rattle, with a hint of inquiry. The Mitchell Prell to make suggestions.
The Prell must still have what was being said. For now he a and talked into it. His were to a as they from the on the wall; but to Ed and Barbara they were still directly from the speaker's own lips. "You've come to me successfully. Now we must see what will happen. Ed, if it is only the police at our gates, it would be best to present yourselves as citizens. You and Barbara have rights. And you've your to them. They can't you. Beyond this, I must to you both. You have a difficult to what must to you a blank wall—without anything very new. That is a of being duplicated. And there is no time now to into your minds the memories of the into smallness. I'm sorry. Mitchell Sandhurst Prell—yes, you, my identity—show them what to do. But for heaven's sake, move this of mine to a less place!"
Because he was like his old self, the smaller Ed Dukas still as his original did. So, after all, there was that much contact. He the that had just been mentioned, plus the of not having the of another size level. This failure involve of his uncle's purposes. But there was and belief, too. From the of minds, the Ed all these personally.
So he moved quickly, closer to the microphone, on reassurance. He into it; and of his came out mad: "Ed, it's me! Ed! Honestly! And that was a Mitchell Prell speaking. Take of yourself—and Babs—because you're me—or still part of me. And we love Barbara—in any form. Hello, Barbara, darling."
There was no time to say any more, for now there a steady, vibration, stronger. In a moment he what it was. A huge, high-speed had been into play against granite. Very soon now these would be invaded.
And more was happening. There were more temblors. A moved nearer, its shadow; its wet to be of of thread. The face, glimpsed, was a huge, mask, with a of dark and trunks. A wind came with him, by his motion. He was that other Prell.
"Hang on!" his yelled.
Ed of the dust-grain region his Barbara down. They together and part of the but to the from which they had emerged, just as the under them tilted, and they were almost away by of air. Wires had been disconnected, and now the whole assembly—large with the machine shop, middle-sized and middle-sized under it, and the with its though equipment—was being and hoisted.
It was set on a high shelf. And what must have been a was in of it to it casually. Maybe there was no time for anything else, for that of the was more pronounced.
"They ought to put on helmets!" Barbara in the tumult. "These will be unsealed! And they aren't to live in Martian air!"
Maybe the three her, through the and cone. But they would know, anyway.
From the of the jar's shadow, Ed still see into the of the room. The were their gear.
The had a with creaking, overtones, only to micro-ears. Ed almost and by it. Any now the would through into the room. But he didn't much trouble. It wasn't reasonable. He sure that it was the police who had his larger self here. They had their to give protection, not harm. Their power might be by the and of the times, but not reason.
He that there would be a when the came through. So he over to the and from it a long of floss, to him than a rope. Quickly he one end around his and it, and the middle of it around Barbara. The end he passed to his uncle.
"Tie on!" he shouted. "So we don't separated. And tight to anything solid!"
The break-through came, and it was not too bad. It like a the world one sharp, blow; then the of the super-hardened bit—all of a across, it must have been—braked to stationary. There was no of air of and pressure. The had been capped.
Ed saw the there in the room—the of himself, his wife and his uncle—grimly for Mars. They had taken up positions a little this or that, not to trust but more or less sure. He how it was—particularly with his other identity. There had to be this moment someone, or unknown, spoke. They were armed. At the that was still his own in a way the Midas Touch pistol that he remembered, though it was a fold.
The outcome was different from what he have or expected. There was no voice of challenge or from the drill. You not see the dark space around its rim. There was only a small, the of another Midas Touch struck, and a of the of metal and and in a narrow, curve, making a in which all visible and a of and in a space that, of itself, have killed.
The little Ed Dukas be proud of his forerunner, for he was quick to have his own Midas Touch, just as the of light came.
It didn't do any good. The Ed's was not to be lost, as he and his companions, like on a string, were into the of the atmosphere. So he saw how the Midas Touch, from the drill, cut slantingly, like a blade, across the room, its narrow through the three almost simultaneously. Then, for a moment, of was in and and motion. But when the and he on air currents, he saw the crumpled, forms. Mitchell Prell—colossal version—had been in two at the waist. The and of the other two had to be.
To Ed Dukas's micro-cosmic nostrils, the of unchanged. Nor was his for any different. It came after that small, pause of of what he had just seen. He the Prell and the Barbara from him. They had not been from the joining strand—luckily.
At he that the attack had come from someone other than those who had him. But then the point moved forward. From it men, the of Interworld Security—usually in the past but now sometimes and by the its own ranks and among the people about what, the of effort, was good or bad.
The group had a leader. Ed and his in the air, near the man's shoulders, but his still in the sky of their present world. Old were hard to from such magnitudes; but the and showed. There were and of speech. Ed to patterns in the of it. Centuries ago, the had had a way to "hear"—by of touch. And by the vibration, Ed that he was "hearing" too for his present organs to as such: "... Prell's ... Dukas us...."
Ed still only scraps; but the skill was coming—now, with his body, he the which must have been a laugh.
Now a of wind from a arm the of and the three who were to it upward. Beyond the view window of the helmet, Ed saw the face—rolling and hills, with and follicles, and with skin, which the were easily visible, the around the with a luminosity. The mouth was a long, valley, into a hard grin. The nose was a crag. The were set in country and with and pupil.
"You know him, don't you, Eddie?" Barbara said.
Size did not the quality or the stare. Rather, it an of character.
"Of course," Ed answered. "Carter Loman, who was with Chief Bronson and who spoke to us we left. An official with we the to come here. Nice guy. Feels that he can be the whole of the law out here in the Martian desert."
Again Loman his henchmen. Ed was at the words: "We'll clear out for home. I've got to study this equipment! But we open a door we'll with a four stream. That'll kill that vitaplasm! Fascinating, stuff! Too bad, in a way, to it here—because I think I know what's still around, and I'd like to see. But we can't take the risk. A I might give a chance, but not a or robot-lover!"
Loman paused, then spoke again, his this way and that, his toward the invisible: "Prell, you're dead, but are you still somehow here? What can't in the age you helped create? On Earth we your nephew. Don't think I didn't what you were doing. Now we've taken your into the other room to your brain. In a minutes we'll know. There'll be to stop your of folly!"
As the great to turn here and there questioningly, the still-living Mitchell Prell in derision: "Here I am, crusader!"
But there were no and sound-cone in action now, and Loman did not him.
Maybe Barbara's present were too minute to tears, but her looked as though she were weeping. "Loman is the of fanatic," she said. "Sure that he's right, and about it. Sadistic, and, I suppose, clever."
"I'll tell you more about him," Mitchell Prell offered softly. "His a glow—a that only our can see. Radioactivity. It wouldn't be visible on Earth, where an energy. But on Mars—or else that is in supply—vitaplasm to other energy sources. It would be for him to air in that he's wearing."
Ed Dukas looked at his own arms. Yes, they glowed, too, though he'd noticed it in the light of the great lamps.
"Then Loman is an who androids!" Barbara breathed. "Well, I that one's own has often before. But an in the Interworld Police? Under physical examination, he what he is."
"Legally, they still have equal rights," Ed answered. "That much I'm for. They couldn't be out of the Force. But there be other twists, not so unprejudiced. A sent to catch a thief, would you say? Something strong, and full of self-hatred, sent out to match strength? Tom Granger, and thousands of others, might think like that."
Ed Dukas's anger through at last, slow and terrible. Maybe he had been too for exact to register. The other Barbara, he loved, had been murdered, her mangled. It was the same with his own other self, and his uncle's. Those had been the one available to all familiar and out of this place of forms, physical laws, and a millionfold. But now those were gone. And if beings in smallness death in from Midas Touch pistols low, there would be little left that they, in their tininess, work with. They would be here in a for as long as they survive, to move a pebble.
These were with a that Ed had known. He if a little dust-grain go mad. It was Carter Loman's fault. No, the than that! To Tom Granger, the rabble-rouser, and those like him, and those who listened. And to a leader of origin. Yes, it was Mitchell Prell's fault, too, and his own for here and Barbara.
With his two companions, Ed Dukas high in the air, supported by impacts, near the of an Atlas called Carter Loman, and his and the of dimensions. This giant, by his henchmen, had all of the advantage, while Ed and his wife and uncle be away by the wind of that hand in motion.
Loman was at Mitchell Prell again, his voice easily through the thin plate of his helmet. It was not a true to micro-ears. Rather, it was a in the air, with one's entire body. "Prell, I'm sure you haven't stopped existing. Don't think that I can't how. And you did to me. There was your Moonblast, but that wasn't the worst. Everything you for must be out. Even if we all go with it."
Maybe it was then that Ed's crystalized. His anger was cold and clear, as if by need. Although Ed was of himself, he no to kind. In fact, he was still from to the condition. But an enemy of was an enemy to all men of sort.
His were sharpened. Suddenly a of the power in smallness came to him—combined with the and of that such and powers possible. Android powers.
"I must have a point of and exasperation," he said softly. "We were to it. To be from the Earth can a terrible idea. But maybe that is as it should be, and good. I can't agree that pushing into in an open can be any better. We've too much. There is too much wonder ahead. And maybe, small as we are, we can the leaders. Under the right conditions, I think we these giants—even kill them if necessary. Quieting Loman and Granger might help a little."
"I know," Mitchell Prell answered. "I of it myself. Perhaps I didn't have the nerve to the idea through. Maybe that was why I wanted you to come to me on Mars—where I had the to you. Microbes are smaller than we are, yet they used to kill men."
Ed Dukas saw his wife wince. But this couldn't make any now.
"Ed and Barbara, I'm sorry for all I've you into," Prell added.
"Don't be," Ed told him. "Who can a to try to do some good in what a conflict? Now, first, let's out of here, if we still can or could."
Ed some of the to himself—strange, his uncle more about these regions than he did. But Mitchell Prell was more for study than for physical action. And he was by the of the he had helped produce.
