Read by Scott Miller

The Pause by Isaac Asimov The white powder was confined within a thin-walled, transparent capsule. The capsule in turn was heat-sealed into a double strip of parafilm. Along that strip of parafilm were other capsules at six-inch intervals. The strip moved. Each capsule in the course of events rested for one minute on a metal jaw immediately beneath a mica window. On another portion of the face of the radiation counter a number clicked out upon an unrolling cylinder of paper. The capsule moved on; the next took its place. The number printed at 1 P.M. was 308. A minute later 256 appeared. A minute later, 391. A minute later, 477. A minute later, 202. A minute later, 251. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000. Shortly after 2:00 P.M. Mr. Alexander Johannison passed by the counter and the corner of one eye stubbed itself over the row of figures. Two steps past the counter he stopped and returned. He ran the paper cylinder backward, then restored its position and said, "Nuts!" He said it with vehemence. He was tall and thin, with bigknuckled hands, sandy hair and light eyebrows. He looked tired and, at the moment, perplexed. Gene Damelli wandered his way with the same easy carelessness he brought to all his actions. He was dark, hairy, and on the short side. His nose had once been broken and it made him look curiously unlike the popular conception of the nuclear physicist

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