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how and in what sense the leap was made remains obscure,  even to 
the heirs of Atlantis.*
   The men of Atlas could fly,  it is true,  and that by a method 
so  simple that men will laugh outright when it is  rediscovered; 
but they needed air to support them;  they could not confront the 
cold  and emptiness of space.  Was it in some subtler  body  that 
they  conveyed  the Palladium?  Or,  content to die,  could  they 
project  some vehicle across so great a distance?  The answer  to 
such  questions probably lies in the recovery by mankind  of  the 
knowledge of Zro and its properties.
   Beneath  the labour mills* run troughs* in which the sweat  of 
the  workers  collects and drains off into an open basin  without 
the  mill.  In this basin churns with  immense  rapidity--through 
multiple  bevel gearing--a sort of paddle with knife  edges.  The 
sweat is thus churned into froth,  and gradually disappears,  and 
is  as  continually replaced.  The workers toil in  shifts--eight 
hours work,  four hours repose, eight hours work, four hours rest 
and recreation. The mills never cease day or night.
   The  basin is of polished silver and agate,  and is set at  an 
angle,  facing two enormous spheres of crystal, encased in a sort 
of trellis made of a certain greenish metal, its optical focus at 
a point midway between the two.
   The  only sign of activity is that out of this focus  a  spark 
crackles  unless the air be dry,  a condition difficult to secure 
in  this part of the world,  although fans blow air,  dried  over 
chloride of calcium and sulphuric acid, over the globes and their 
focus.  These fans are worked by tidal power,  human labour being 
appropriated solely to the one use.
   In  the temple of the 'house' are two globes similar to  those 
upon  the  plains,  and the mysterious force generated  below  is 
transferred to those above,  collecting within them. Now the name 
of  this  substance is always Zro,  but in its  first  state  the 
gesture  is  a twiddling of the thumbs.  In its second,  it is  a 
rapid  twittering  of  the fingers,  and in its  third  state  of 
distillation it is a screwing of the hands together.  Within  the 
spheres  it sublimes suddenly in the air as a snaky powder (4) of 
silver,  which immediately turns to an iridescent fluid (5)  that 
is  forced up,  by its own need of expansion,  through a fountain 
into  the  temple,  on whose floor it lies (6)  in  a  semi-solid 
condition. Expert priests gather this in their hands, and rapidly 
shape  it into its seventh state,  when it is a knife of diamond, 
but alive.  An instrument like a Mexican machete is used to carve 
rocks.  The  edge shears them,  the back smooths them.  The  rock 
behaves exactly like wax,  responsive to the lightest touch. What 
is  not used for weapons is then gathered up swiftly and  kneaded 
by women of the rank of high priestess.  It is not known even  to 
the high priests with what they knead it, but in its eighth stage 
it  is  a  substance solid enough to support  great  weight,  but 
eternally heaving of its own force.  Of this they make  beds,  so 
that the sleeping Atlantean is (as it were) continually massaged. 
To  this they attribute the fact that Atlanteans sleep never more 
than half an hour, though they do so four times daily. These beds
remain active only for a few days,  and they are then thrown into 
the ninth stage by being taken into a room where is a cauldron of 
great  size.  They are thrown into this and sprinkled with  black 
phosphorus.* The Zro then divides into two parts, one liquid, one 
solid.  Neither of these has any ascertainable properties, for it 
is  absolutely  passive to the will of the user,  who  may  taste