"Don't talk dirty. Did you say 'thoat'?"

"Yes. This is Barsoom."

"I thoat that was what you said."

"If that's a pun, you can eat it for supper. With peanut butter."

Zebadiah shuddered. "I'd rather cut my thoat."

Pop said, "Don't do it, Zeb. A man can't eat with his thoat cut. He can't even talk clearly."

Aunt Hilda said mildly, "If you three will cease those atrocities, I'll see what I can scrape up for dinner."

"I'll help," I told her, "but can we run my test first? I'm itchy."

"Certainly, Deety. It will be a scratch meal."

Pop looked at Aunt Hilda reproachfully. "And you told us to stop."

"What test?" demanded my husband.

I explained the Bug-Out program. "I think I programmed it correctly. But here is a test. Road the car a hundred meters. If my program works-fine! If

it tests null, no harm done but you and Pop will have to teach me more about the twister before I'll risk new programming."

"I don't want to road the car, Deety; I'm stingy with every erg until I know when and where I can juice Gay. However- Jake, what's your minimum transition?"

"Ten kilometers. Can't use spatial quanta for transitions-too small. But the scale goes up fast-logarithmic. That's short range. Middle range is in light~years-lOgarithmic again."

"What's long range, Jake?"

"Gravitic radiation versus time. We won't use that one."

"Why not, Jacob?" asked Aunt Hilda.

Pop looked sheepish. "I'm scared of it, dearest. There are three major theories concerning gravitic propagation. At the time I machined those controls, one theory seemed proved. Since then other physicists have reported not being able to reproduce the data. So I blocked off long range." Pop smiled sourly. "I know the gun is loaded but not what it will do. So I spiked it."

"Sensible," agreed my husband. "Russian roulette lacks appeal. Jake, do you have any guess as to what options you shut off?"

"Better than a guess, Zeb. It reduces the number of universes accessible to us on this axis from the sixth power of six-to-the-sixth-power to a mere six to the sixth power. Forty-six thousand, six hundred, fifty-six."

"Gee, that's tough!"

"I didn't mean it as a joke, Zeb."

"Jake, I was laughing at me. I've been looking forward to a lifetime exploring universes-and now I learn that I'm limited to a fiddlin' forty-six thousand and some. Suppose I have a half century of exploration left in me. Assume that I take off no time for eating, sleeping, or teasing the cat, how much time can I spend in each universe?"

"About nine hours twenty minutes per universe," I told him. "Nine hours, twenty-three minutes, thirty-eight point seven-two-two seconds, plus, to be more nearly accurate."

"Deety, let's do be accurate," Zebadiah said solemnly. "If we stayed a minute too long in each universe, we would miss nearly a hundred universes."

I was getting into the spirit. "Let's hurry instead. If we work at it, we can do three universes a day for fifty years-one of us on watch, one on standby, two off duty-and still squeeze in maintenance, plus a few hours on the ground, once a year. If we hurry."

"We haven't a second to lose!" Zebadiah answered. "All hands!-places! Stand by to lift! Move!"

I was startled but hurried to my seat. Pop's chin dropped but he took his place. Aunt Hilda hesitated a split second before diving for her seat, but, as she strapped herself in, wailed, "Captain? Are we really leaving Barsoom?"

"Quiet, please. Gay Deceiver, close doors! Report seat belts. Copilot, check starboard door seal."

"Seat belt fastened," I reported with no expression.

"Mine's fastened. Oh, dear!"

"Copilot, by low range, 'H' axis upward, minimum transition."

"Set, Captain."

"Execute."

Sky outside was dark, the ground far below. "Ten klicks exactly," my husband approved. "Astrogator, take the conn, test your new program. Science Officer observe."

"Yessir. Gay Deceiver-Bug Out!" We were parked on the ground.

"Science Officer-report," Zebadiah ordered. ~Report what?" Aunt Hilda demanded.

"We tested a new program. Did it pass test?"

"Uh, we seem to be back where we were. We were weightless maybe ten seconds. I guess the test was okay, Except-"

"Except' what?"

"Captain Zebbie, you're the worst tease on Earth! And Barsoom! You did so put lime Jello in my pool!"

"I was in Africa."

"Then you arranged it!"

"Hilda-please! I never said we were leaving Barsoom. I said that we haven't a second to waste. We don't, with so much to explore."

"Excuses. What about my clothes? All on the starboard wing. Where are they now? Floating up in the stratosphere? Coming down where? I'll never find them."

"I thought you preferred to dress Barsoomian style?"

"Doesn't mean I want to be forced to! Besides, Deety lent them to me. I'm sorry, Deety."

I patted her hand. "S'all right, Aunt Hilda. I'll lend you more. Give them, I mean." I hesitated, then said firmly, "Zebadiah, you should apologize to Aunt Hilda."

"Oh, for the love of- Sharpie? Sharpie darling."

"Yes, Zebbie?"

"I'm sorry I let you think that we were leaving Barsoom. I'll buy you clothes that fit. We'll make a quick trip back to Earth-"

"Don't want to go back to Earth! Aliens! They scare me."

"They scare me, too. I started to say: 'Earth-without-a-J.' It's so much like our own that I can probably use U.S. money. If not, I have gold. Or I can barter. For you, Sharpie, I'll steal clothes. We'll go to Phoenix-without-a-J- tomorrow-today we take a walk and see some of this planet-your planet- and we'll stay on your planet until you get tired of it. Is that enough? Or must I confess putting Jello into your pool when I didn't?"

"You really didn't?"

"Cross my heart."

"Be darned. Actually I thought it was funny. I wonder who did it? Aliens, maybe?"

"They play rougher than that. Sharpie darling, I'm not the only weirdo in your stable-not by dozens."

"Guess maybe. Zebbie? Will you kiss Sharpie and make up?"

On the ground, under the starboard wing, we found nur travel clothes, and under the port wing, those of our husbands. Zebadiah looked bemused. "Jake? I thought Hilda was right. It had slipped my mind that we had clothing on the wings."

"Use your head, Son." "I'm not sure I have one."

"I don't understand it either, darling," Aunt Hilda added.

"Daughter?" Pop said.

"Pop, I think I know. But- I pass!"

"Zeb, the car never moved. Instead-"

Aunt Hilda interrupted, "Jacob, are you saying that we did not go straight up? We were there-five minutes ago."

"Yes, my darling. But we didn't move there. Motion has a definable meaning:

A duration of changing locations. But no duration was involved. We did not successively occupy loci between here-then and there-then."

Aunt Hilda shook her head. "I don't understand. We went whoosh! up into the sky... then whoosh! back where we started."

"My darling, we didn't whoosh! Deety! Don't be reticent."

I sighed. "Pop, I'm not sure there exists a symbol for the referent. Aunt Hilda. Zebadiah. A discontinuity. The car-"

"Got it!" said Zebadiah.

'I didn't," Aunt Hilda persisted.

"Like this, Sharpie," my husband went on. "My car is here. Spung!-it vanishes. Our clothes fall to the ground. Ten seconds later-flip!-we're back where we started. But our clothes are on the ground. Get it now?"

"I- I guess so. Yes."

"I'm glad you do... because I don't. To me, it's magic." Zebadiah shrugged. "'Magic.'"

"Magic," I stated, "is a symbol for any process not understood."

"That's what I said, Deety. 'Magic.' Jake, would it have mattered if the car had been indoors?"

"Well....hat fretted me the first time Deety and I translated to Earthwithout-the-letter-J. So I moved our car outdoors. But now I think that only the destination matters. It should be empty-I think. But I'm too timid to experiment."