"Glass!" he said. "A solid wall of it! We're caged like animals under a bell!"
"What?" Lafferty, too, pawed wildly at the crystal-cool invisibility that bound them. "But air, Steve! There's air coming through somewhere—"
Duane's questing eyes had found the answer.
"Up there," he said. "See—near the ceiling? It's a wide crack in the glass. Chuck, I'm beginning to piece the puzzle together. It's mad, but it all ties in.
"That crack up there may be the thing that caused us to waken! From the appearance of this chamber, it used to be hermetically sealed! Then the dome split, air seeped in, and we wakened. But if that is true, what has seemed to us but a second's time may in reality have been weeks ... years...."
"Years!"
"Possibly," warned Steve, "longer than that! It was experimental work we were engaged in, Chuck. Methioprane was a compound about which nothing was known. Set yourself for a shock. While we slept, not only years but centuries may have passed!"
"Centuries!" echoed Lafferty bleakly. "B-but, Steve—the war? Who won? And where are we now? How—?"
Steve Duane shook his head.
"You know as much about that as I do. I'm guessing, anyway. There may be another explanation. But—" His head turned—"I think we'll know the answer in a few minutes."