it would be good to allow
himself to succumb to the softly-blanketing darkness which was filling
his mind. It would be a blessed surcease from all the troubles and cares
of his present world. But something held him back.

And though a great, calm voice seemed to give him every assurance of
safety, a stubborn, small one screamed him its warning. In a turmoil, he
watched Big Tim stride toward the nearest of the platforms.

It became evident to Nellon almost immediately that Big Tim was never
going to reach his goal. For shortly after the first several steps, the
blonde giant's purposeful walk slowed to a bemused shamble. And,
watching with a curiously disembodied attention, Nellon saw him waver,
stop, and then collapse upon the floor, as though he had suddenly become
very, very tired.

The warning voice was shrieking now. Nellon felt a swift rush of terror
that ripped him free of the force which enclosed him in its lulling
folds. He shot a wide-eyed glance from the gleaming, inert shape of Big
Tim's suit to the globe flaming high above. He wanted suddenly to run.

He struggled in panic against the invisible bonds of peace and comfort
which were so reluctant to let him go. His determination to be free was
the fierce and frenzied one of utter fear. Flailing his arms as if
against some material foe, he managed to stumble down from the ramp, to
one side of the doorway where the green light would not reach him.

Exhausted from the herculean struggle, he slumped to the floor. A soft,
warm blackness was settling over him, and he was powerless to fend it
off. But he knew that he was safe, and the satisfaction which he felt
was increased by the radiation which he had absorbed, so that when he
finally swooped into unconsciousness, it was amidst a thunderous,
victorious singing.

* * * * *

Nellon's next sensations were curious ones. He seemed to awaken in
another realm. It was a vast and formless place with no distinguishable
feature or color, but it was curiously sentient, pulsing with awesome
possibilities.

Now, as though stirred by his reflection upon it, the nebulous stuff
began to writhe. And then, taking shape from the formless jumble of
thoughts in his subconscious, a dream-world began to grow. Bits were
added here, others discarded there, but every compartment in the
storehouse of his mind contributed something. And all assembled in
accordance with the pattern Nellon had fashioned i