"Well, what we got at this end would positively scare the right arm off of a surrealist sculptor."
"Hang onto it. I'll be right up."
"Hang on to it?" laughed Don. "I'm afraid to touch it."
It was three miles from one end of Venus Equilateral to the other and Walt made it in six minutes from the time he stepped into the little runway car to the time he came into the north-end laboratory and looked over Channing's shoulder at the—thing—that stood on the table.
"Um," he said. "Sort of distorted, isn't it?"
"Quite," said Don. "This is glass. It was once a three-inch cube of precision, polish, and beauty. It is now a combination of a circular stairway with round corners and a sort of accordion pleat. Hell's bells!"
"Be not discouraged," gurgled Walt. "No matter what it looks like, we did transmit matter."
Arden tapped Don on the shoulder. "May I say it now?"
"You do—!"
"Then I won't say it doesn't matter."