The short man leaned over Chandler and watched closely. There was another dissolve. The man's eyes were replaced by Professor Kotenko's, sparkling with alertness.
"You fainted," Kotenko said. "Like a woman, you closed your eyes and fainted."
"What about Marta?" Chandler asked.
Kotenko smiled. "She didn't faint."
"Then she's all right?"
"Everyone in the last three cars lived—a few broken bones, that's all. The tube separated and the front cars and some of the other vehicles were carried down into the valley. This would not be permitted in the Soviet Union."
Chandler sat up. He was on the floor of a gymnasium. A brightly painted poster on the wall extolled the virtues of the Reno Union High School basketball team. Perhaps thirty others were on the floor covered with blankets and tended by doctors and nurses.
"We were brought in by verti-plane," Kotenko explained.
"How long has it been?" Chandler asked.
"Three or four hours. A long time to be unconscious. They want to X-ray that skull of yours."