"You'd be surprised how many people want to get away from it," Sandane remarked. "Shall we have something sent in or go to the diner?"
"Let's go to the diner," old George decided. "I want to look over some of the chicks on this train. Could be one of them is a stranger in San Francisco, needs somebody to show her the town."
"Could be," Sandane agreed.
After a hearty lunch, without a look at the right side of the menu, the old man started drinking again. He kept pleasantly tipsy all afternoon, trying to submerge the recurrent thought that this couldn't really be going to happen. Sandane continued to act the affable host, but made no move to put his plan into operation. They were in Sandane's compartment when the loudspeakers announced that passengers who were leaving the train at Oakland should get ready. The waiting was getting on the old man's nerves.
"All right," he told Sandane, "if this is all a gag, the joke's finished."
"It's not a joke," Sandane protested.
"Then put up or shut up."
"Very well," Sandane said. "Close your eyes and relax. You will go to sleep for a few moments."
The old man was determined to stay awake to see what went on. But in spite of himself, his eyes closed, his head drooped forward. He dreamed a long and involved dream about cities of the future, where all the people had miraculous powers. It seemed to go on for days, yet when he awoke, with a start, the train still had not reached Oakland.