ning along their steplike terraces. Another monstrous city, with buildings as far as my vision extended—great structures a thousand feet or more in height, with parks on the tops. And all the original grounds and the rivers again covered with the tangle of traffic arteries.
THE time-ship's acceleration seemed to have reached its height now. Structures which endured only a hundred years were melted together in the scene before me. Everywhere now there was a vast stir of things changing. And then there seemed a pause. Mankind on the height. Perhaps it was so all over the world. Peaks of civilization—the genius of man's accomplishment taking him to the height. And there he was resting, content. A thousand years? Two thousand? And then the inevitable decadence began.
And I saw the triumphant city come down. Faster, faster through the centuries.
Through the window of my cubby I was watching it. The city here—perhaps the pride of all the Earth—at last sank back into a blur of ruins, decay and desolation.
"You are called Bob Manse?" the voice at my doorway repeated impatiently. "Come, take your meal."
I turned to face the woman Rhadana. Amazingly voluptuous creature, this harlot from the city of 5140 A.D. A blue-colored cloth was wound wide around her swelling hips, with a tasseled sash hanging knee-length down one side. Sandals were on her bare feet. Her torso was bare save for breast-plates of gleaming metal and a low-cut collar of cloth, covered with shining little golden coins, flat on her upper chest and cut wide to cover her shoulders. Her black hair, glistening with oil, was braided and coiled on her head, with a gauze headdress of crimson which fell like a bridal veil down her back.
And there was in her eyes as she stared at me, all the lure which her aspect promised; and a little mocking half-smile upon her heavily carmined lips.
For that instant, startled, I blankly stared; and then I took the terraced little tray of food and drink she proffered.
"Thank you. You are Rhadana?" I said.
"Yes. You have heard of me?" She lingered in my doorway, a jeweled hand on her hip.
"The blind girl, Doris—you have been kind to her, she says. I thank you."
"Oh, she?" Her gesture was of faint contempt. "A sweet little child. She wants her eyesight. Tork should let her have it."
"Yes, so I think. You are to be the Empress of the New Era world?"
She nodded carelessly. "And Tork the Emperor." She was looking at me strangely; and suddenly she glided forward. Jewels hanging on a bracelet at one of her knees tinkled. Suddenly her hand went out and touched my shoulder. And she added furtively, in her queer throaty, purring voice:
"I have been watching you—Bob. I can see you are not like these other bellystabbers—more like that Georg Allaire. Except—"
Her hand lightly caressed my arm.
"Except—that you are more of a man," she finished. "I am to be Empress, you see? That is why I joined this—adventure. Power to rule. How I have always wanted it—and now I am going to have it, you see?"
"I see," I said.
She was suddenly breathless.
"To rule with Tork!" She spat it out. "And he is less than—"
