So far as the President could see, he might have been one of the bright young career men who hurried about Washington these days; except that the eternal briefcase was missing and the young man wore a one-piece coverall type of garment in pastel red. He was blonde, pleasant, and had even, white teeth. He was also respectful.
He bowed and said, "Mr. President. I have been sent to conduct you and your assistant to the rendezvous."
The President glanced quickly at the Press Secretary, then said, "Of course."
"If you will be so kind as to move with me to the far corner of the room."
The Press Secretary's expression said, It's all right. This is just how it happened to me, and they followed the young man across the thick carpeting.
In the corner, he arranged them precisely. "If you will stand just there—" Then he stepped between them and looked pleasantly unconcerned.
The President tensed himself for what was to come. But nothing came except the crackling and the red light; the dissolving of the walls and the young man saying, "You may sit down now if you wish."
No physical discomfort whatever.
The President sat down and looked about. He was in a small, well-furnished room, pastelled in a light shade of green complimenting the young man's uniform, and he got the flash of an idea that color was very important in the scheme of whatever science brought this transposition about.