Jupiter?—where then was Saturn? His heart began to beat hard; was he on the way? He gazed before, behind, to right and left; nothing that looked like Saturn appeared. Not below him, either. Above, perhaps? Ah, yes, there it was! It hung directly in his zenith, a lovely vision, the ring clearly defined all round it; its hue was a delicate sapphire, not the yellowish tinge that earth’s atmosphere gives it. It was very distant; its apparent size had increased hardly at all. And yet, as Jack gazed at it, it seemed suddenly to grow larger, as if it had been projected directly toward him. But that could not be; rather, he had moved at an inconceivable speed toward it. This was strange!
At this juncture he was acutely surprised to hear a voice—a human voice, a familiar voice, none other than Jim’s, in fact, addressing him in these words: “Slow down a bit, boss: Gee, dat was a dandy jump you made! I ain’t got me sea-leg yet: slow down!”
Jack turned toward the apparent source of this appeal, but at first could see nothing of his attendant, whose existence he had quite forgotten. Presently he discerned a dot in the pathless void, immeasurably remote: could that be Jim? He narrowed his eyes, and now became aware of a new peculiarity in his environment: Jim, though still in seeming size no bigger than a flea, became distinctly visible in his minutest details; nay, he could even hear the tap of his crutch as he exerted himself to bridge the gulf between them. The mere act of attention—a mental process—could have the effect of abolishing space to the senses!
“But the boy can never come that distance in a dozen years!” he murmured half aloud.
“Try anudder t’ink, boss.” replied Jim’s voice, close to his ear; “Watch me!”
While these words were uttering the flea enlarged to the dimensions of a bee, and was still coming. What was it that Mary Faust had said about space? “A difference in mental states?” In other words, thought, on the mental plane was presence!
As he meditated this discover, understanding began to flow in upon his mind from various quarters, like the light of dawn through crevices in a darkened room. He had left his material body on the earth; he was now all mind—spirit, though he could perceive no change in his outward aspect; his garments seemed the same; he was substantial as before; though there was no air in space, he breathed and his heart beat as usual; though space was absolute cold his body had the warmth of summer; though there was no blue sky, the etheric light—if it were that—was intense as the electric flash and iridescent as the rainbow. Upon distant objects it had the effect of a lens of enormous power.
“I’m what is called dead,” said Jack to himself, summing up his ideas. “This is my spirit—my me itself. I’m not dead for good though—my body down there is only asleep. To travel is to pass through a series of thoughts in continuous succession with a fixed end always in view. I once read, ‘As a man thinks, so is he.’ To be in Saturn, I must think myself into a Saturn state of mind. Just how to do that isn’t clear; but I’ll see what wishing myself there will do; wishes may be wings!”
“Dat sort o’ dope is beyond me, boss,” said Jim; “but if hangin’ on to your coattails is any good, count me in!” Jim had arrived.
“You’re not scared, are you, Jim?” said Jack, smiling down on him.