"Go call on Lee Garth," Tompkins said. "You will find his address in the files. Ask him if he will accept a ten day extension on the delivery date of certain items of his order. That is your excuse for getting in to see him."
"Lee Garth? He's a big shot theoretical physicist," Railton said. "Worth a mint. Made his money on a bunch of inventions. The papers call him another Einstein, but I personally think they over-rate him. What has he been ordering from us and what am I to find out?"
"Find out why he needs solid copper bus-bars twenty-four inches in diameter, but don't let him find out that's what you want to know."
"What?" Railton recovered his composure. "Yes sir."
"Get going."
Railton left. When the chief used that tone, he wanted results, and to hell with expense and everything else that stood in the road of what was wanted.
Dawn or dusk? And which roads lead to the future? Or is there no future? Is there only the present and the past, and is the present only the husk of dying life?
Again and yet again and yet again the ancient yellow sun went down the sky, and night, ever growing bolder, came each evening out of the east. Again and yet again the darkness crept around the huge ball that rested on the nearer hill.
The ball did not lift again, did not move, did not stir or struggle. Like a huge stratosphere balloon made out of some strange metal, it rested there, unmoving.