Smith nodded, but he had been thinking of something else. He said
gravely: "Remember what I told you--it's air that insulates the earth
from the ether. If there's no air here--" he glanced out into the
pitiless sunlight--"then I hope there's no flaw in our insulation. We're
walking in an electrical bath."

They looked around. Objects were pretty distinct now. They could easily
see that the floor was covered with what appeared to be machines, laid
out in orderly fashion. Here, however, as outside, everything was coated
with that fine, cream-colored dust. It filled every nook and cranny; it
stirred about their feet with every step.

The geologist led the way down a broad aisle, on either side of which
towered immense machinery. Smith was for stopping to examine them one by
one; but the others vetoed the engineer's passion, and strode on toward
the end of the triangle. More than anything else, they looked for the
absent population to show itself.

Suddenly Van Emmon stopped short. "Is it possible that they're all
asleep?" He added that, even though the sun shone steadily the year
around, the people must take time for rest.

But Smith stirred the dust with his foot and shook his head. "I've seen
no tracks. This dust has been lying here for weeks, perhaps months. If
the folks are away, then they must be taking a community vacation."

At the end of the aisle they reached a small, railed-in space, strongly
resembling what might be seen in any office on the earth. In the middle
of it stood a low, flat-topped desk, for all the world like that of a
prosperous real-estate agent, except that it was about half a foot