It occurred to Diavilev, with fascination, that no one as yet had boarded the thing. He was about to ask when Krylov came up, but now the end came, and he had no time.
Krylov wanted to know if he was now certain. Diavilev said yes.
"Good. Now we may begin."
Krylov looked into the television screen, again rubbing his face with thick hairy hands. They were just passing over the northwestern coast of America; Diavilev waited.
"If you were to take a pail of water," Krylov said calmly, "and whirl it around over your head, what would happen to the water?"
Diavilev looked at him queerly.
"It would remain in the pail," Krylov said, smiling.
"If you were swinging it fast enough."
"Exactly."
Krylov turned back to stare at the screen. Below them was the pale gleaming blue of the Pacific.