“O.K.,” he answered with bored indifference. “Go right ahead and talk to me. I won’t mind as long as it’s interesting.”
There was a pause. Then the voice continued, in a slightly worried fashion.
“We don’t quite understand. Our message isn’t merely interesting. It’s vital to your entire race, and you must notify your government immediately.”
I’m waiting,” said Bill. “It helps to pass the time.”
Five hundred light-years away, the Thaams conferred hastily among themselves. Something seemed to be wrong, but they could not decide precisely what. There was no doubt that they had established contact, yet this was not the sort of reaction they had expected. Well, they could only proceed and hope for the best.
“Listen, Bill,” they continued. “Our scientists have just discovered that your sun is about to explode. It will happen three days from now—seventy-four hours, to be exact. Nothing can stop it. But there’s no need to be alarmed. We can save you, if you’ll do what we say.”
“Go on,” said Bill. This hallucination was ingenious.
“We can create what we call a bridge—it’s a kind of tunnel through space, like the one you’re looking into now. The theory is far too complicated to explain, even to one of your mathematicians.”
“Hold on a minute!” protested Bill. “I am a mathematician, and a darn good one, even when I’m sober. And I’ve read all about this kind of thing in the science-fiction magazines. I presume you’re talking about some kind of short cut through a higher dimension of space. That’s old stuff—pre-Einstein.”
A sensation of distinct surprise seeped into Bill’s mind.