"Starstone Chamber," the girl said. "Our council hall."
"It's beautiful. Not a place for stuffy-minded men, I'd say."
They walked down through the tiers of seats toward the bottom of the arena, where what appeared to be the head of a spiral staircase was visible.
"Where are we bound?"
"To Goseq, one of our senior psychologists," Atel said. "We want to see what we can dredge up about the sciences of your period. Doubtless your observation, being untrained, missed most of the essentials, but there ought to be some kind of residuum in your subconscious."
"Why don't you fly me back to where I fell out of?" Andreson suggested stiffly. "I realize that you can't expect to remember the exact spot, but those 'windows' must look both ways, and should be findable. I could send you a more suitable specimen—a friend of mine who's a scientist—"
"We do know the exact spot," Atel interrupted. "We have detectors in operation at all times—naturally! But a thorough search of that area revealed nothing."
Andreson sighed. "I was afraid of that. The apparatus evidently wasn't intended to be used for an airplane; I suppose I blew it out."
The girl, who had been preceding them, stopped at the top of the stairwell and levelled a dainty finger at Atel. "Why don't you stop tormenting him because he's not a scientist?" she demanded angrily. "It isn't his fault! He's doing his best for us!"
Atel's eyebrows would have shot up, had he had any. "Certainly," he purred, with an ironical gesture. "I'm sure you understand my attitude, Mr. Andreson. As a non-scientist, you are more of a curiosity than a gift, and that is a disappointment to us. We shall try to make your stay here as comfortable—and as short—as possible."