“Did you build it? ”

“Me? No, hardly,” said the jumper. “I found it. It’s a long story and I don’t have time to tell it now. In fact, if I tried to tell it I’d only make things ten times worse than they are. No. Let’s get this over with as quickly as we can, shall we? I know I don’t stand much of a chance with you, and I’d just as soon make it quick.”

“You know, of course, that this is a world without disease—” Mahler began sonorously.

“And that you think I’m carrying enough germs of different sorts to wipe out the whole world. And therefore you have to be absolutely inflexible with me. All right. I won’t try to argue with you. Which way is the Moon?”

Absolutely inflexible. The phrase Mahler had used so many times, the phrase that summed him up so neatly! He chuckled to himself. Some of the younger technicians must have tipped off the jumper about the usual procedure, and the jumper had resigned himself to going peacefully, without bothering to plead. It was just as well.

Absolutely inflexible. Yes, Mahler thought, the words fitted him well. He was becoming a stereotype in the Bureau. Perhaps he was the only Bureau Chief who had never relented, and let a jumper go. Probably all of the others, bowed under the weight of hordes of curious men flooding in from the past, had finally cracked and taken the risk.

But not Mahler—not Absolutely Inflexible Mahler. He took pride in the deep responsibility that rode on his shoulders, and had no intention of evading a sacred trust. His job was to find the jumpers and get them off Earth as quickly and as efficiently as possible. Every single one. It was a task that required relentless inflexibility.

“This makes my job much easier,” Mahler said. “I’m glad I won’t have to convince you that I am simply doing my duty.”

“Not at all,” the other said. “I understand. I won’t even waste my breath. The task you must carry out is understandable, and I cannot hope to make you change your mind.” He turned to the guards. “I’m ready. Take me away.”