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Norton, Andre, 1912-2005

"The Time Traders"

There remained only a thin, rough line
like a long-healed scar, that was all.
Ross lifted his head to look about him. His body lay supported in a
cradlelike arrangement of metal, almost entirely immersed in a red
gelatinous substance with a clean, aromatic odor. Just as he was no
longer cold, neither was he hungry. He felt as fit as he ever had in his
life. Sitting up in the cradle, he stroked the jelly away from his
shoulders and chest. It fell from him cleanly, leaving no trace of
grease or dampness on his skin.
There were other fixtures in the small cylinderlike chamber besides that
odd bed in which he had lain. Two bucket-shaped seats were placed at the
narrow fore part of the room and before those seats was a system of
controls he could not comprehend.
As Ross swung his feet to the floor there was a click from the side
which brought him around, ready for trouble. But the noise had been
caused by the opening of a door into a small cupboard. Inside the
cupboard lay a fat package.


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