urs?" Whitlow asked, thinking of the ham sandwich.

General Webb consulted a magnificent platinum timepiece anchored to his
thick hairy wrist by a stout leather strap.

"In exactly one hour, thirty-seven minutes, and
forty-three-point-oh-oh-nine seconds!" he said, proudly.

"Thank you," Whitlow sighed. "You're certainly running this
thing--whatever it is--in an efficient manner."

"Thank _you_!" General Webb glowed. "We like to think so," he added
modestly.

* * * * *

Passwords, signs, countersigns, combination-locks and electronic
recognition signals were negotiated one by one, until Whitlow was
despairing of ever getting into the heart of Project W. He said as much
to General Webb, who merely flashed the grin which gave him his
nickname, and opened a final door.

For a moment, Whitlow thought he was going deaf. The shrill roar of
screeching metal and throbbing dynamos that pounded at his eardrums
began to fuddle his mind, until General Webb handed him a small
cardboard box--also stamped, like every door and wall in the place, "Top
Secret"--in which his trembling fingers located two ordinary rubber
earplugs, which he instantly put to good use.

"There she is!" said General Webb, proudly, gesturing over the railing
of the small balcony upon which they stood. "The Whirligig!"

"What?" called Secretary of Defense Whitlow, shaking his head to
indicate he hadn't heard a word.

Somewhat piqued, but resigned, General Webb leaned his wide mouth nearly
up against Whitlow's small pink plugged ear, and roared the same
information at the top of his lungs.

Whitlow, a little stunned by the volume despite the plugs, nodded
wearily, to indicate that he'd heard, then asked, in a high, piping
voice, "What's it for?"

Webb's eyes bulged in their sockets. "Great heavens, man, can't you
_see_?" He gestured down at his creation, his baby, his project, as
though it were self-evident what its function was.

Whitlow strained his eyes to divine anything that might give a clue as
to just what the government had been pouring money into for the past
eight months. All he saw was what appeared to be a sort of ferris-wheel,
except that it was revolving in a horizontal plane. The structure was
completely enclosed in metal, and was whirling too fast for even the
central shaft to be anything but a hazy, silver-blue blur.

"I see it," he shouted, squeakily. "But I don't understand it!"

"Come with me,"