"Nothing," said Alan. "I'm all right. But Nanette?" He tried to gesture to make it mean something.
"Nanette," said Lea. She smiled again, but then her face went solemn.
San said abruptly: "Lea—San—Alan." His gesture included the three of them. And then he pointed to the dial. Alan understood. He was indicating the year to which they were going.
It was the year 7012 A.D.
"But Nanette," Alan insisted. "Nanette? Turber?" He swung his finger over the dial. But they both shook their heads. They were solemn, perturbed. They did not know Turber's destination. Alan's heart sank, yet there was nothing he could do but wait.
Presently Lea was showing him about the tower room. It was some thirty feet square, occupying the entire base of the tower. There was furniture which seemed to be of metal. A gray-white room, windows closed now and covered by opaque metal plates, a dim glow of light, the source of which he could not determine, lighted all this gray interior.
Two small sections of the room were divided off by hangings of what might have been a gray metallic fabric—one inclosure where it seemed food was stored; the other, an instrument room. A low hum came from there. Alan saw lines of tiny wires of cobweb fineness, which began there and spread like a tiny white network woven into the walls and ceiling and floor of the room. And, in one corner, there was a small metal staircase—an incline spiraling upward through a trapdoor of the ceiling. Lea gestured.
"Want us to go up?" said Alan.
She evidently did. She showed him the dials again. They were passing the year 1995. She spoke to San. He remained at the instruments; Alan and Lea went up into the tower.