"And if we're okay now, how about sending our clothes around, and no bill. I didn't start it. And where are we anyway?"
The man on the screen frowned. "You are not Winslow. No?"
"I'm Jim Kenley. That's Bob. Say—any of you folks phone Bob's outfit he got hurt or something?"
"No." The figure came nearer, growing in perspective. "I believe it is time to inform you it would be somewhat difficult to notify anyone in your period of time what happened. You are now existing in the year 3300."
The pit of Bob's stomach grew chill. Somehow, he had felt from the moment of awakening, that he had left either his space, or his time zone. It fit too well with that presentment, and the brief glimpse of their kidnapers. And as his alert mind began to grasp their situation, Bob went through panic. There were so many things he wanted to complete, to eat, to see. There was a girl, not disturbing him yet, but nevertheless in the background. There was his whole world, the one he knew, and that was the world in which he wanted to live, and die. Bob's curiosity wasn't to explore space. He wanted to better fellow men, and gain information for them. He wondered if Jim could get the staggering impact of this calm announcement of their fate.
Jim's reaction was typical. "Baloney. You gotta damned good act, brother. And I don't know why you're rehearsing on us." Jim sprang out of bed. "Come on, Bob. Let's get out of this booby hatch." In tight fitting pajamas of strange fabric, he started around his bed. He struck an object, bounded back. Whatever it was, Bob couldn't see it. As for Jim, swearing, fists doubled, he charged. This time he went back and struck the floor, turning a complete somersault.
The man on the screen chuckled. "Some take it easy. Some don't. Winslow, I perceive you understand more readily, till you get a more complete explanation. Good. Rest assured you shall get it. Now, if you and your companion walk directly to this screen, I promise you entry to your future quarters. Go there, put on clothing you will find, and wait your summons to food."
Bob nodded. "May I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"Granted this is the year 3300, give me a reason to believe you. A fundamental one. I live in the Twentieth Century, in the year 1940. We recognize the theory that time and space are relative, that the past can still exist. But the future—"