Um jovem muito atlético (possivelmente um jogador de futebol) impulsivamente dá um pulo correndo e vai direto para o aro. . . e não sai, é claro.
And then, out of the crowd and into history, raced Ernest Silverman, high jumper and honor student and citizen of Philadelphia.
In all the exuberance and thoughtlessness of youth, he flung himself through the hoop— and disappeared. And in a twinkling, the laughter, the shouts, the exuberance turned into a cold, dismal silence. Like the children who followed the pied piper, Ernest Silverman was gone with all the fancies, and hopes; the sun clouded over, and a chill wind blew.
A certa altura, o professor está falando com alguém ao telefone sobre isso e diz com tristeza: "Suponho que eles ainda não encontraram o corpo de [aluno desaparecido]?" (Não, eles não tinham.)
He picked up the telephone and found that it still worked. He dialed his personal line, and across the mountain of garbage the electrical impulses flickered, and the telephone rang in Professor Hepplemeyer's study.
"Hepplemeyer here," the professor said.
"Oh, - yes. I heard. I'm terribly sorry. Has it stopped?"
"It appears to have stopped now," the mayor said.
"No sign of him," the mayor said.
"Well, it was thoughtful of you to call me."
"There’s all that garbage."
"About two million tons?" the professor asked gently.
"Give or take some. Do you suppose you could move the hoop—"