The door of the saloon.⁠ ⁠… An hour later it was to latch and lock itself.⁠ ⁠… At the door stood an unfamiliar Number. He was small, with a face like a hundred or a thousand others which are usually lost in a crowd, but his arms were exceptionally long⁠—they reached down to the knees as though by mistake they had been taken from another set of human organs and fastened to his shoulders.

The long arm stretched out and barred the way.

“Where do you want to go?”

It was clear that he was not aware I knew everything. All right! Perhaps it was necessary that it should be so. From above him, in a deliberately significant tone I said:

“I am the Builder of the Integral and I am directing the test flight. Do you understand?”

The arm drew away.