t his idea is nothing more
than a wild hunch. He seems to think that five years of observing the Nipe
won't be too much time at all. We may have to act before then."

"I hope not. It would be a terrible waste," said Mannheim. "Mr. Stanton, I
know that Dr. Farnsworth has outlined the entire plan to you, and I'm sure
you're aware that many things can change in five years. We may have to
play by ear long before that. Do you understand what we are doing, and why
it must be done this way?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know that you're not to say anything."

"Yes, sir. Don't worry; I can keep my mouth shut."

"We're pretty sure of that," the colonel said with a smile. "Your
psychometric tests showed that we were right in picking you. Otherwise, we
couldn't have told you. You understand your part in this, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any questions?"

"Yes, sir. What about my brother, Martin? I mean, well, I know what's the
matter with him. Aside from the radiation, I mean. Do you think he'll be
able to handle his part of the job after--after the operations?"

"If the operations turn out as well as Dr. Farnsworth thinks they will,
yes. And, with the therapy we'll give him afterwards, he'll be in fine
shape."

"Well." He looked thoughtful. "Five more years. And then I'll have the
twin brother that I never really had at all. Somehow, it doesn't really
register, I guess."

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Stanton," said Dr. Farnsworth. "We've got a
complex enough job ahead of us without your worrying in the bargain. By
the way, we'll need your signature here." He handed him a pen and spread
the paper on the desk. "In triplicate."

The young man read quickly through the release form. "All nice and legal,
huh? Well...." He hesitated for a moment, then bent over and wrote:
_Bartholomew Stanton_ in a firm, clear hand.

XVI

The tunnel was long and black and the air was stale and thick with the
stench of rodents. Stanton stood still, trying to probe the luminescent
gloom that the goggles he wore brought to his eyes. The tunnel stretched
out before him--on and on. Around him was the smell of viciousness and
death. Ahead ...

_It goes on to infinity_, Stanton thought, _ending at last at zero_.

"Barbell," said a voice near his ear, "Barhop here. Do you read?" It was
the barest whisper, picked up by the antennae in his shoes from the steel
rail that ran along the tunnel.

"Read you, Barhop."

"Move out, then. You've got a long stroll to