Red Barrett, who had clambered down the ladder, took one startled look at the spinning needle and started up again. "Excuse me, folks," he gulped, "I just remembered I got to see a guy about nine million miles away from here!" His hands fumbled for the latch of the ceiling trap door.
Dr. Aiken stayed him with a sharp command. "No, Red! Don't!"
"H-huh? Why not?"
"Because something is happening to us. Obviously, we are moving in some direction or other. It might be perfectly safe to open that trap door, but on the other hand—well, I think it would be better to wait until the needle reaches the end of its circuit."
"If you ask me," vouchsafed Syd O'Brien gloomily, "we've probably marched ourselves right into some sort of ancient torture chamber. An Iron Maiden, or something like that. We'll probably end up under the moat or being cooked in boiling mud—" He stared about him suspiciously. "Do these walls look like they're closing in on us?"
His brother chuckled. "Cheerful little cherub, isn't he? I agree with the doctor; you shouldn't open that trap door just yet, Barrett. But I don't think we're in any danger. Evidently this chamber was a secret of the ancient priesthood. They wouldn't build anything to hurt themselves. Wherever it's taking us—"
"Taking us?" interrupted Ramey. "What's all this talk about movement? We don't seem to be going anywhere."
Dr. Aiken permitted himself a thin smile. "Spoken like a true airman, Ramey. I'm afraid your profession has accustomed you to judge motion by external appearances. Within this closed chamber we have no object relative to which we can judge speed or direction. But by the hum of the motors, movement of these several dials, it is perfectly obvious we are doing something. Just what, I cannot say." Here a frown flickered across the forehead of the older man. "It is quite true that if we move either up or down there should be a visceral sensation similar to that experienced in elevators. Similarly, were we moving in a lateral direction we should have felt the shock of over-balanced inertia when we started in one or another direction. Since we did not feel these things there is only one other possibility, but it is so fantastic—"
"It ain't fantastic," broke in Red Barrett. "It's whacky. We ain't going up or down; we ain't going sideways. That's all the directions there is."