that the avenue seemed rather long. In fact, it was much longer than I had ever known it to be before.
With a queer Alice-in-Wonderland feeling I noted it stretching way on ahead of me. Then I looked back.
I gasped in astonishment. The building was indeed below me. I looked down upon it from the top of an elevation. The astonishment of that realization had barely broken over me, when I admitted that there was a building down there; but what building? Not the new Morton Hall, at least. It was a long, three-story brick building, quite resembling Morton Hall, but it was not the same. And on beyond there were trees with buildings among them; but it was not the campus that I knew.
I paused in a kind of panic. What was I to do now? Here I was in a strange place. How I had gotten there I had no idea. What ought I do about it? Where should I go? How was I to get back? Odd that I had neglected the precaution of how to get back. I surmised that I must be on the t dimension. Stupid blunder on my part, neglecting to find out how to get back.
I walked rapidly down the slope toward the building. Any hopes that I might have had about its being Morton Hall were thoroughly dispelled in a moment. It was a totally strange building, old, and old-fashioned looking. I had never seen it before in my life. Yet it looked perfectly ordinary and natural, and was obviously a University class-room building.
I cannot tell whether it was an hour or a dozen that I spent walking frantically this way and that, trying to decide to go into this building or another, and at the last moment backing out in a sweat of hesitation. It seemed like a year, but was probably only a few minutes. Then I noticed the people. They were mostly young people, of both sexes. Students, of course. Obviously I was on a University campus. Perfectly natural, normal young people, they were. If I were really on the t dimension, it certainly resembled the z dimension very closely.
Finally I came to a decision. I could stand this no longer. I selected a solitary, quiet-looking man, and stopped him.
"Where am I?" I demanded.
He looked at me in astonishment. I waited for a reply, and he continued to gaze at me speechlessly. Finally it occurred to me that he didn't understand English.
"Do you speak English?" I asked hopelessly.
"Of course!" he said vehemently. "What's wrong with you?"
"Something's wrong with something," I exclaimed. "I haven't any idea where I am or how I got here."
"Synthetic wine?" he asked sympathetically.
"Oh, hell! Think I'm a fool? Say, do you have a good man in mathematical physics on the faculty? Take me to him."
"Psychology, I should think," he said, studying me. "Or psychiatry. But I'm a law student and know nothing of either."
"Then make it mathematical physics, and I'll be grateful to you."
96
