The cosmos, an endless continuum, countless measures of nothingness, filled in tiny pockets with the antithesis of nothingness, accumulated mass huddled by its own gravitation in the vast expanse, being stressed in its lonely existence, motes of dust in a dead dance ordained by natural laws.
     As long as man has been able to turn his head to the heavens and see it as the universe, he has asked, "Are we alone?" Much speculation as to extraterrestrial intelligence has been made and widely debated. Much is based upon fantasy, and irrefutable evidence has not arisen. Much time, effort, and expense has been made to search the skies for signs of other beings, sending out our modulated emf traces, and as of yet, there has been no reply to our calls that we can ascertain as intelligent.
     But does that really mean that we are alone, or could it perhaps mean that they choose not to answer our call?

     Roscoe sat back in the driver's side of his new top-down '56 T-Bird and looked up at the stars, humming to the two year old "Earth Angel" as it came crooning smoothly over the radio. "Kind of makes you wonder what is really out there." He glanced in the mirror to make sure his hair was properly combed back.
     "Mitchell says that there is probably life out there. What do you think?" asked Claire, toying with her well sprayed hair.
     "I think that if there are little green men out there, they don't know what they're missing."
     "And just what are they missing?"
     "Being here beside you with stars and moon above."
     "It is a pretty night. Are you getting ideas, Roscoe? Cause if you are, forget it. You know that I didn't come out here for that. We came out here to look for meteors. You just happen to have a new convertible. Don't jump to conclusions."
     "Hey, was I coming on strong to you? I beg your pardon if you got that impression. I was just paying you an honest compliment. You look pretty tonight." Roscoe believed in the smooth agreeing style, being one to always play the odds. But he wasn't afraid to play outlaw if it showed promise.
     "Sorry. It just sounded like it."
     "Just a romantic streak in my blood, I guess. I just feel these things. Everybody seems to take them for something else."
     "Just don't get too sweet. I'm not that kind of girl."
     "Maybe I should take you home."
     "What? We just got here."
     "Well, you seem to have me convicted before the act. I don't want you to suffer an unpleasant experience."
     "You're not unpleasant."
     "You could have fooled me."
     "Okay. I apologize. Most guys get ideas in our situation. I just wanted to make myself clear on where I stand. Oh, look at the meteor. Sure is bright. And it's not dying out. It's coming near here. Isn't that something?"
     "Wildest shooting star I've ever seen. Must be our lucky night, like a sign from above."
     "There you go again. It's still coming."
     The streak went overhead and disappeared behind the foothills. There was a tremor that followed.
     "I wonder if it hit the lake. Want to drive up there and see?"
     "Couldn't see anything until morning. And that hit a long way away. We'd be better off looking at the news on TV when it comes on the air tomorrow."
     "I wonder if Mitchell saw it from the observatory."
     "Are you going to talk about Mitchell all night long?"
     "You got something against Mitchell?"
     "I just want to talk about other things."
     "Come on, let's go to the observatory. I bet Mitchell was there when it fell. I heard that he was going to use the telescope tonight."
     "Will your sister Connie be there?"
     "Probably. She helps Mitchell most every night."
     "Yeah, some help."
     "Roscoe, they are serious about their work. Mitchell is a scientist."
     "So I've heard, a hundred times." Roscoe started the T-Bird and backed out of the parking spot.
     "You're not mad, are you?"
     "Nah." He pressed down on the accelerator, saying nothing more, despite her attempts at conversation. He dropped her off at the observatory and left, hoping to make another connection before the night was over.
     Claire went up to the entrance and rang the bell. She waited several minutes, as was usual. Connie opened the door to let her in.
     "Here alone?"
     "Oh, just out with a wolf. I wasn't being sheepish enough for his new convertible. Did you see the meteorite?"
     "Yes. We even got it on film. A multiple exposure. Mitchell got an image on the film, and he's getting it ready to print. It came right out of Hercules, near Vega, where we were looking."
     "Did you see where it went? It looked like it came in near the lake."
     "We couldn't tell from in here. You have to pick your horizon on the dome. We weren't turned properly."
     "Well, it went down in the foothills. What did the seismograph show?"
     "Haven't checked yet. I was about to when you rang."
     Mitchell emerged from the darkroom, wet print in hand. "Well, here it is. Well, Claire, did the meteorite bring you up here?"
     "Sort of."
     "She was out sky watching in a wolf's convertible." added Connie.
     "So where is the wolf?" he inquired.
     "Looking for more fertile hunting grounds, I imagine. You two are too straight and narrow for him."
     "Well, I've been accused of worse. Anyway, not much detail in the photograph, just its path across the sky defined. How are the seismic readings?"
     "Impact registered at four point seven. Claire said that it looked like it came down near the lake."
     "I take it, Claire, that you haven't been out there to look."
     "No. I didn't get very much cooperation out of Roscoe. He was too disappointed that I kept the buttons on my blouse connected. It was too far for him to drive without reward. I was lucky to make it here."
     "Then why did you go out with him?"
     "He has a new T-Bird."
     "Well, stupid question. Would you settle for a truck?"
     "Are you going out there to look?"
     "As soon as I call the Air Force on this and inform them of what we gathered in the way of information."
     "Sure, I'd love to go, if I won't be in the way."
     "No, you won't be in the way." offered Connie. "After all, what are big sisters for?"

     Mitchell, Connie, and Claire reached the lake before dawn, and there they found the Air Force in numbers. Mitchell made themselves personna gratis with the photograph he had printed and a copy of the seismic reading, having headed straight for the helicopters on arriving.
     While Mitchell and Connie examined the recent fish kill with the brass and talked about mass and impact, Claire spent her time talking to a helicopter pilot who wore no ring on his left hand. Being young, pert, and attractive, she had no trouble keeping his attention. She had often wished to have Connie's mature beauty and sophistication, but she was beginning to find that her brand of appearance was not without its influence on men. While she had yet to reach a point of gaining instant respect that her sister got on first impression, she was growing into a woman that drew hearts with little effort.
     It was determined that the meteorite had fallen in the water close to where they were standing, judging from the murkiness of the water in the immediate area of the lake and clear water elsewhere. While the Air Force studied, many people arrived in the growing light and started to harvest the fish that had washed up on the beach, and the Air Force personnel had to start being police, warning the people of possible contamination. Orders were that no fish were to be taken for consumption, and the helicopter pilot had to say good-bye to Claire in order to take to the air on patrol until the local authority arrived in force to begin enforcement.
     But that worked out to good timing, since Mitchell and Connie had discussed everything they knew with the Air Force brass and were just about ready to head home. They arrived as the choppers lifted and collected Claire and got in the truck. They were off before the chaos of the lift abated.
     "Who is hungry?" asked Mitchell.
     "Yeah." responded Claire. "I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. Roscoe never did take me to dinner as planned."
     "Well, holler if you spot a diner before I do. There should be a number of them here near the lake."
     Claire turned on the radio to see if there was any news, but all she got was static and whines. "Hmm. That's funny. We can usually get several stations out here. But this morning, I can't get a thing. Think it has to do with the meteorite?"
     "Heavy ion trail might do that. But there was no sign of radiation on any of the Air Force's equipment." offered Mitchell.
     "There's a place to eat." noted Connie.
     Mitchell steered into the parking lot and found plenty of spaces to park, indicating plenty of places to sit inside. They soon found themselves in a booth, looking at menus. Their waitress went over to a man fiddling with the television set.
     "Frank, haven't you gotten that thing working yet? You know how the regulars like to watch the morning news. And with that thing falling from the sky, everybody is going to be even more curious."
     "I'm doing what I can, Barbara. It looks like the TV is fine. I'd say it was some kind of interference in the air waves."
     "We had the same exact trouble with the car radio." offered Claire. "Mitchell here seems to think that it's ions from the meteorite."
     "And how would he know?"
     "He's a scientist."
     "Are you folks up here with that circus out at the lake?"
     Mitchell took over the conversation. "Actually, no. Connie and I work at the Brethmore Observatory. We photographed the fall of the object and collected some other data, and we came up here in the truck to see where it had impacted. We talked to the Air Force and offered what we had learned last night. But other than that, we've no part in the effort at the lake."
     "Hey, I think I'm starting to get something." called Frank.
     "I don't see nothing but snow." responded Barbara.
     "Here it comes again."
     "Great. Bizzo the Clown. See if you can find some news."
     "The news comes on after this. My kids watch this."
     As Frank fiddled with the controls to make the picture clearer, Bizzo stripped off his clown suit on the screen to expose himself to the viewing audience. "What in the hell?" quizzed Frank to no one in particular.
     "Your kids watch that? Shame on you, Frank. I didn't even know that they could do stuff like that on TV. They ought to arrest him for crap like that. Downright indecent."
     "Hey, he never did that before. He's always been a normal TV clown."
     "Well, then change the channels. I don't want to see that garbage. Oh, good heavens, he's playing with himself. Frank!"
     Frank switched channels around the dial and got no other stations. When the dial returned, Bizzo was dropping to his knees, breathless. Frank passed it by to keep Barbara from kicking him out the door.
     Sammy had come out from the grill kitchen and asked what the fuss was about. Barbara told him. His reply was, "I always knew he was a damned Commie. That just goes to prove it. Somebody ought to shoot his pink ass. Bunch of damned pinko Commie fruits are going to take over this country if something isn't done quick." He headed back into the kitchen.
     Frank managed to get another channel to show. Here was a man before the camera, standing behind a podium. "And to comment further, I'd like to quote from the words of the Father of Our Country, Walt Disney."
     "What is this trash?" hollered Frank. Suddenly the TV went blank, then a news show came on the screen, talking about the meteorite. Everyone in the dining room listened closely, but there were no surprises like with what they had seen before. The newsman went on talking about the events of the previous night in sketchy detail.
     Things returned to normal, and Mitchell, Connie, and Claire ordered breakfast and ate. The oddity of the TV was the topic of conversation among the others, but they stayed out of the discussion at Mitchell's prompting. They finished, paid their bill, and left. On the way home, the radio worked as Mitchell expected.

     At home, Connie turned on the TV to find an interview with John Morgan, the local television celebrity who portrayed Bizzo the Clown, and he was categorically denying of having done such things as he was being accused of doing. He claimed that he was a decent family man and was against exposing children to unhealthy influences of any nature. The picture blurred slightly, and then he was at it again, tearing off his clothes as his face turned clownish, the camera zooming in for all the explicit details. Connie changed channels.
     She found a scene of two lions mating, a screaming woman being flayed alive, a white hunter in Africa being dismembered by a local tribe, and six women naked together in a tub of orange juice, praising the attractions of Florida.
     Then the TV blurred again, and there was only normal broadcasting. "What is going on? What is making the TV do this sort of thing?" asked Connie, quite flustered.
     "I don't know." responded Mitchell.
     "It's the meteorite." added Claire.
     "We don't know that, and besides, it's highly unlikely that a falling object that underwent so much atmospheric friction heating would be capable of presenting such images that are so human in nature. No, this is more likely the plot of a subversive group bent on twisting the minds of decent American citizens."
     "Mitchell, you're not saying it's Commies, are you? Not you."
     "I didn't say a word about the Communists. There are plenty other subversives besides the Communists."
     "Then why did this start after the meteorite landed?"
     "Coincidence, opportunity, many reasons are possible. Don't jump to conclusions without proof, Claire."
     "What do you think, Connie?"
     "I think that it's awful and a disgrace. Things like that should not be shown to the public. Whoever is doing that should be thrown in jail and not let out. It's an outrage to decent folks."
     The telephone rang and Connie got up to answer it. A moment later, she waved it at Mitchell. "Julius."
     Mitchell rose and took the phone. "Yes, Julius. What is it?"
     "Have you seen the TV this morning?"
     "Yes, I have. Rather disturbing."
     "To say the least. I noticed that you photographed the meteorite last night. Incredible piece of luck there."
     "Yes. Not many astronomers get a chance to record such an event."
     "Have you had a chance to get any sleep?"
     "Not yet. I was just about to head home. Connie, Claire, and I went out to the lake where the meteorite impacted last night. Do you need me there? I can drop by."
     "Not this moment. I'm going to set up some radio detection equipment to see if I can find where the broadcasts are originating. Henry will be all the help I need for the moment. Go get some sleep and come on in when you wake. And bring Connie with you."
     "Okay. If the Air Force calls for me, take a number, and I'll call them back when I report in this evening. We talked to them at the lake."
     "Will do. Go home and get some sleep, so we can get into full swing on this as early as possible."
     "On my way." He hung up and excused himself. He got in the truck with encouraging words from Connie and headed home for bed.

     "Mitchell Harrison here." he said sleepily to the phone.
     "Harrison, this is Colonel Randy Fiers, US Air Force. Are you the same Dr. Harrison that was out at Lake Trintha this morning?"
     "Yes, Colonel, that was me. How may I help you?"
     "I need to t>      "I'm on my way as soon as I have breakfast and pick up my assistant. I should be there within the hour."
     The phone clicked and sounded a whine. He got busy putting a quick breakfast in his stomach after a call to Connie to get her up and ready to go to the observatory. He got in his truck and headed for her place.
     She looked as dog tired as he felt, so he made no comment as to her appearance. She sighed as he reached the porch. "I was told that the TV has been acting up again today. It's all that everyone is talking about. So far, no one seems to know where it's being generated."
     "Well, let's get to the observatory. We may be able to find some answers there. Julius has been working on a homing set up. And the Air Force is dropping by, a Colonel Fiers."
     They were in the truck without wasted effort, except for Mitchell to wave to Claire sitting at the window inside. "You know, I think that Claire has a crush on you. I think she's a bit jealous of me."
     "Oh, give her time, and she'll find someone. She's a smart girl."
     "I know. She's very much in need of a steady boyfriend. She's at that age. I remember it well."
     "How well?"
     "Well, I was lucky. I had already met you."
     "You never told me this before."
     "Well, a girl has her secrets. Can't have the world run with every girl saying what is on her mind. Besides, I was young then."
     "And you are much wiser now."
     "Absolutely. I know how men think now."
     "Ah, but you haven't gotten married yet."
     "One of these days."
     "Any prospects?"
     "Could be."
     "Who is the lucky fellow?"
     "Somebody who hasn't yet realized it."
     "Make sure that I'm invited to the wedding, if it gets to that."
     "Oh, don't worry. If I get married, I'll be sure that you are there."
     "I'm honored."
     "And blind." she whispered to herself, looking out the window at the sky.
     They arrived at the observatory, noticing extra cars with small decals on the doors, parked out front. Upon entering, they saw more people inside than either could remember, outside of the regular guided tours. Some of the conversation was quite animated, especially between Dr. Brinks and some of the men in military uniforms. Mitchell broke up the discussion by arriving into the crowd.
     "Colonel, here's my college, Dr. Mitchell Harrison, and his assistant, Connie Roberts. He was the one that photographed the meteorite last night. Mitchell, this is Colonel Randy Fiers and Major Lawrence Perry of the Air Force. They have come seeking information and advice."
     "Just the information, if you please. Our advice comes from higher up the chain of command. If you would just kindly turn over what data you've gathered, we'll be on our way."
     "Colonel, I told you that the data we gather is ours. We will be glad to share it with you, but we will not surrender our original material. That is our property, and it will remain our property."
     "Dr. Brinks, this is a matter of national security. We expect full cooperation."
     "And you'll get it. Whatever knowledge we have, we will share it with the Air Force. But I must insist that the original materials remain in our possession. We'll be happy to print any photographs and trace any charts that you request. But we retain the originals. You do not have the right to take them from us."
     "We are operating under a strict code of secrecy, and we have orders to seize any original documents in regard to our operations. We do not wish the public to be alarmed."
     "Ha!" said Connie. "Seems that everyone is talking of nothing else. Everyone wants to know why the government hasn't stopped these horrendous transmissions. It's an outrage and people want action to see it stopped."
     "Miss Roberts, I assure you that we are working as quickly as possible to find the source and eliminate it."
     "Then quit wasting your time harassing us and get on with it."
     "Connie." interrupted Julius. "Gentlemen, please. Take what copies you need. I will assure you that these documents will not be released until the affair has concluded. But I will not surrender them without an issued order from the president. They are property of the observatory."
     The two officers conferred quietly between themselves. "Very well, we leave the originals here, but mark my warning, doctor. This information is listed as sensitive and there will be punishment for its disclosure. Do I make myself clear?"
     "I understand."
     "Now what have you found with your radio experiments?"
     "Well, I've started with a omnidirectional antenna to see where the signals occupy the electro-magnetic spectrum. As you can see from our notes on the broadcasts received, it is being emitted along selected bands. Now that we know where to look, we are now working on construction of a highly directional antenna. With a pair of these, we will be able to triangulate on the location of the source."
     "We'll send some men out to help you."
     "They won't be needed. I'm sure that the four of us will be able to handle the load, if we are not distracted. I'll send the data we have to you at the base when it is completed."
     "I'll leave a man here to wait on it. It will be quicker and simpler that way. Dr. Harrison, what can you tell me about what you saw of this object that fell?"
     "I actually saw little. I was quite too busy recording it to watch. I'm sure there are far better observers of the incident than myself. As you can see, we don't have a wide view of the sky here at the observatory."
     "Very well. We won't take any more of your time. But don't forget my warning about releasing information that you find to anyone but us."
     They gathered and left, leaving one driver to wait outside the dome in a car.
     "So what have you found, Julius?"
     "Well, here are the graphs we've drawn up on the broadcasts. You can see they exist in very narrow bands. Whoever is doing this is very skilled in electronics."
     "Why do you think that they waited until the meteorite fell to start this kind of campaign?"
     "I would say that they are shrewd opportunists, using the timing to throw off any trail in the confusion. But we will find them. With a set up like they have, they couldn't be mobile in their operations. That much broadcast power is very heavy and not something to fit on a truck."
     "Well, that will make it easy to find them. How far have you gotten on the antenna?"
     "Not very far. Come on down to the workshop, and we can get busy. Connie, would you be so kind to man the phone and keep distractions away from us? This constant diversion is slowing us down something awful."
     "Yes, of course. I'd be more than happy, Dr. Brinks."
     The three men went downstairs and started assembling the antennas and receivers.

     They worked until the early hours, then they pulled out cots and the four of them bedded down for a short sleep, as was customary when things were going strong at the observatory. They woke and started in again on the receivers. Connie watched television and noted when each broadcast occurred and what was shown. Though she did not enjoy seeing the images, she knew that such information could prove useful to them.
     When Julius, Mitchell, and Henry finished with the work, they started studying Connie's notes. They noted a regular pattern to the broadcasts, there being two or three broadcasts in a short period of time, separated by longer intervals. The length of the broadcasts was growing with time, showing a bravery at the concept of being caught.
     They took the radio outside and waited with a running television. They were watching "I Love Lucy", when a blur appeared and a commercial came on. There was a man in a suit, minus the pants, saying "Do your kids poo-poo on the floor? Well, folks, worry no more, cause now there is Poo Gone. It's a scientific formula specifically designed to get rid of child poop. It can even be safely used in Junior's diapers so you don't gag when it comes time to change the brat. You know how nasty a chore it is."
     Mitchell and Julius were busy rotating the antenna until they saw the needle rise to the top of the scale, then start to drop off. Mitchell took a compass reading, then marked it on the map. Before he could finish drawing the line, the TV returned to normal.
     Connie observed. "It goes right out near the lake."
     "We'll need two readings at the same time before we can tell exactly where. But at least we know that our equipment works properly. I'd suggest that we get some more sleep, then you and Connie can go out to a remote location while in contact with us by radio. You need some rest before you get behind the wheel, Mitch."
     "I won't argue with you. I am tired."
     They took the radio detection gear back inside and bedded down again.

     Mitchell rose and ate breakfast as the sun was heading down. He and Henry loaded the equipment in the bed of the truck while Julius and Connie still slept. Just after they finished and got the tarp in place, a fleet of cars arrived. Mitchell sent Henry inside to wake the other two.
     From the cars came Air Force officers and men led by Colonel Fiers. "Dr. Harrison, are you ready to begin triangulation?"
     "Just about. Why do you ask?"
     "Because we're here to be part of the procedure, to be sure that you're sightings are correct. Our equipment is not calibrated properly to track this problem."
     "You will, of course, need the permission of Dr. Brinks."
     "He said that he would cooperate. I shall hold him to his word."
     The military men turned and headed for the observatory, and Julius emerged to meet them. Mitchell watched the conversation, mostly out of earshot, except when there was a point of dispute. Then Julius came over to the truck. "It looks like we'll have to let them go along on this. They can use what we find to get results. Their jets are faster than anything we have, and they can helicopter men into the area. I suppose this calls for drastic measures, as disrupting as it is.
     "People are out there afraid to watch TV. And TV is too valuable a tool to let sabotage control it, especially not with the filth and degradation that these fiends are showing. The problem is that they are good. They have an eye for perfect detail. The picture looks the same in some cases, so you don't notice the change, except the blur. It is desecrating the images that this great country holds so dear. Roy Rogers, Boston Blackie, and so many more. It's an insidiously clever means of sewing disbelief and loss of confidence. If this goes on, people will never trust their televisions ever again. It has to be stopped. These people are hurting us worse than all the Communists combined."
     "I agree, Doctor. Shall we get started, or do we have to spend hours clueing them in? I'd rather explain any details on the go."
     Connie had closed toward the truck, not interrupting, waiting to roll.
     "Connie, I think it's best that you stay here, with the changes and all. It will be crowded with the men."
     "Mitchell Harrison, if you think you're going to leave me behind!"
     "It will be rough going."
     "I know that. Let's get going."
     "Julius, we'll start off using my house, and from there, we'll use the TV as our guide, and we can confer a similar signal."
     "Sounds like a good start."
     "No, Mitchell, we'll go to my place. You're place is not fit for company. And Claire can help keep the boys in line. Julius, please tell them that we are ready to go."
     Mitchell and Connie climbed into the truck. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Mitchell asked her.
     "Of course, I'm sure. It's in the best interest of the nation and the people that live in this land. I want to do my part. It's the only decent thing I could accept myself doing. You should know me well enough by now."
     "I guess I do. You always have been a tomboy."
     "Do I look like a tomboy to you?"
     "That's why I was asking, Connie."
     An officer approached the truck. "I'm Major Lawrence Perry. We met yesterday. I will be riding up front with you while the men ride in back."
     "Let's get rolling, Major. It's getting dark."
     "Right away, Dr. Harrison."

     They were set up in Connie's driveway in the truck with the receiver and antenna up and operating. The TV was on inside where it could be seen through the window from the truck. There was a radio crew in the yard, and Connie was on the phone inside. The men held their post, except when Claire was close by. She wandered about the house and yard talking to all the Air Force men that were willing to talk to her. All this did was exclude the officers.
     They sat and waited for the TV to act up. In the middle of Zorro, he draws a broadsword instead of a foil and slices five friends in the gut, their insides spilling. Everyone jumped to work and drew a bearing. Claire was immediately forgotten as everyone was at their post and busy. The yard, now surrounded by on-lookers from the neighborhood, was a scene of ordered chaos. Reports, figures, and information were thrown about between the inside and the outside.
     They drew a positive bearing, 291 . "The mountains, up by the lake." He jumped from the truck and ran to the phone. "Julius. The lake, if you're still at 274 . Where the meteorite landed. Ask the Colonel if they still have men stationed there."
     There was a pause. "He says he does."
     "Tell him to start a search of the area. We are going to roll from here to see if we can pinpoint it at close range."
     "Okay. The Colonel says that he will meet you out there from here."
     "We're on our way."
     Everything was quickly packed and the yard was evacuated with the truck, parting people as they drove off. Claire was left there to smile at her neighbors and try to explain what she didn't fully understand.
     They got out on the highway and rolled at top speed in a string of headlights, a police escort meeting them as they rolled through town. Little was said in route, Connie sitting snug to Mitchell to avoid touching Major Perry. It took a longer time subjectively to reach the lake than on previous drives, even if they made their best time ever.
     But they set up a TV at the lake, hooked up to a generator, and were watching for the next interruption when Mitchell arrived. He wasted no time in getting the equipment up and running. Then there was the same wait as before. They sat there on the fogging shoreline, wiping away moisture with towels, until finally sign off was interrupt by a couple on a bed making furious and passionate love. Most of the men watched in awe, but Mitchell began to search with antenna, Connie sitting next to him with a warning look in her eye. He took a firm bearing, stronger on the gauge than ever before.
     "We've got it!" he called. The men looked up in a daze, taking deep breaths, wondering what he was talking about. Then comprehension filled their eyes. Mitchell called out the coordinates at the same moment the TV went dead to static snow. Things snapped into action.
     Helicopters lifted quickly on signal and headed in the direction of 304 degrees. The trucks roared to life and moved to the road. Mitchell had the equipment down and packed and was not the last truck out. With the road cleared, he was able to pass the trucks of the convoy to take the lead, he and Connie alone in the cab. He drove faster than the mass of trucks could follow.
     He reached the far side of the lake in less than half an hour. He went to a high point of ground, a place where a new road was being blasted out of the rock. He and Connie got in the back. They were working blind, without a TV to tell them when there was a transmission. He tried the bands and got nothing but a hissing in the direction that the new road traveled. He radioed in the convoy, just about to reach the turn off. The helicopters were ordered to the area.
     Connie got in the cab and drove slowly as Mitchell worked the antenna in the back, keeping it homed on the hiss. From what he could read, it was a low level carrier wave, unmodulated and carrying nothing. The convoy took little time to roll up behind them, as slowly as Connie was driving the truck. At the same time, the helicopters dropped in, reporting a strange glow half a mile in front of them.
     Mitchell took over the wheel from Connie, and the trucks rolled more quickly. They came around a bend, and there in the middle of the road where the banks were both sliced deeply into the earth, causing a miniature canyon with a flat bottom, sat a glowing television set.
     It put off a ghostly pale steel blue light, sitting atop a wrought iron TV stand on coaster wheels. The trucks all came to a halt. No one knew quite what to think about this. Mitchell was the first out of the truck, and the military, wanting to get there first before a civilian, soon had a large detachment racing forward, while Mitchell and Connie proceeded more slowly, checking instruments for readings.
     Colonel Fiers came barging up with Major Perry in tow as Mitchell came to a stop. "What kind of joke is this?"
     "I don't see it as a joke, Colonel." To emphasize his statement, the TV started to throb a beat frequency sound wave that make everyone jump and shiver when they landed. Mitchell could almost feel the hair on his neck rise. The light grew in pulses and the throbbing gained power.
     Mitchell's eyelids grew heavy, and he started to have to fight for his balance. He looked over at Connie and caught her as she fell. He went down to the ground, toppled by her weight. He dizzily fell into a hole of unconsciousness.

     Mitchell woke with pain in his arm and his head full of tapioca. The sun burned his eyes a-dazzle, and he looked at the source of pain. There was Connie lying atop him, still asleep. Her arm was pinned on his arm, cutting off the circulation. He lifted her off of his chest and cradled her.
     His head was swimming, like waking from a nap in the heat of a summer day. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after ten o'clock. Connie was starting to stir. She felt just as poorly as did Mitchell, though she was not as dusty or bruised on the backside as he was.
     "What happened?"
     "It put us to sleep. Must be some sort of defensive mechanism."
     "Where is it now?"
     "Huh?" Mitchell looked up for the first time and noticed that the TV had vanished. "It must have some way of travel, having gotten here from the impact in the lake."
     "You are saying that the TV came from space?"
     "Yes. There was something unearthly about it. Not something to the eye, but to the inner-senses. I don't know quite what to say that would explain what I felt, what I know down deep. Scientific intuition."
     "Then what are we going to do?"
     "We are going to have to track it down and destroy it. We know how to find it now. And we now know how to avoid its defenses."
     There was a moan from his right, and the colonel rose from the ground complaining about how he felt. Then he saw Mitchell and Connie. "That was sure a stupid trick to play on us. The Air Force doesn't appreciate such cheap shenanigans. You are going to face trouble for this."
     "Colonel, you don't understand. That TV was the source. I had no more to do with it than you did."
     "Denying it, huh? What are you, a Commie?"
     "Of course not. I had nothing to do with what we saw last night other than by finding it with this equipment."
     "Very convenient to throw us on a false trail and try to make monkeys out us, huh? Well, us Americans don't like to be made fools of. And you will learn your lesson. I guarantee that, Doctor."
     "Let's get back to the observatory and compare notes with Julius." he whispered to Connie. "Colonel, we were out-maneuvered last night by a force about which we know little. I suggest that we return to the observatory and talk this over."
     "I'm going nowhere with you. When we come looking for you, you better be at the observatory, or you are going to be in deep trouble."
     "I'll be there or somewhere working on the problem."
     "You had better be there."
     Mitchell got Connie into the cab of the truck and started driving away from the scene, afraid that if he stayed, the colonel would change his mind about letting him go. He felt that the angry colonel was not thinking clearly, a possible side effect of the exposure that they had received. He stopped about a mile away and packed the equipment for travel.
     The drive was a long one, and they were both quite tired when they returned to the observatory. They fell asleep on the cots before discussing much of anything.

     "Now what was this about an alien TV?"
     "I know it sounds odd, but we found a TV set in the middle of a road construction project. It glowed a pale blue and hummed with a beat frequency. It then put us to sleep and was gone when we woke." Mitchell stirred the cream in his coffee and rubbed his still sleepy eyes.
     "Are you having delusions?"
     "No. It happened to all of us in the convoy. The problem is that the Air Force refuses to see it for what it is. They feel that we're responsible, doing it as a joke. Not that I blame them. I hardly believe it myself, except I sensed the unearthliness, gut level. I know it wouldn't fly with the scientific community, but I know what I saw."
     "If it came from elsewhere, then how does it know what to broadcast?"
     "Julius, our television signals are going straight out into space, and they travel with less signal loss heading up than they do out, since there is less atmosphere to dampen the signals. They are weak, but they are nonetheless there, going out for lightyears."
     "And how can it broadcast such power without massive equipment?"
     "Man is in its infancy in electron technology. Look at the transistor and think of how far it might go in terms of miniaturization. Think of a culture that has known the transistor for centuries. We've known it for less than a few years, the solid state diode, barely longer."
     "But the power supply."
     "Julius, we don't know, and that is why I say it is unearthly."
     "I don't know if I buy this."
     "Then try the direction finder, and I lay you odds we get a different bearing on the source."
     The phone rang. Julius went over answer it, and Mitchell nursed his coffee and went for another. He turned on the TV to check if the pirating interruptions were still occurring. As he was sipping his coffee, a coffee commercial on, and there was a naked woman sitting down into a barrel, squirming her way in. "Remember folks, Columbian Dream Coffee is the only coffee in the world guaranteed to have a naked woman sit in every barrel." Mitchell looked at the coffee can next to the percolator and spewed his mouthful in disgust. Then he realized the deception and falsity, and purposefully took another sip.
     Julius returned from the phone. "That was Colonel Fiers. Seems the frequency of the broadcasts is increasing. He is sending over a group of troops to keep an eye on us. We are not to leave the observatory."
     "Well, then who are they going to get to investigate the matter?"
     "They've contacted Helmut Freidrickson."
     "What? That quack? Are they idiots?" blurted Connie.
     "Apparently he has been in contact with them since the beginning, same as we have. My guess is that he is trying his best to get us out of the picture by stabbing us in the back. From the way the colonel sounded, he has bolstered their belief in taking last night's incident as a joke on our part. I think that it is safe to say that we are no longer on the inside of the operations. Our staying here, from what I surmise, is a form of house arrest. I suggest that we concur."
     "Concur? Julius, we are the world's current foremost authorities on this thing. And even I fell victim to its power of persuasion. It has ways of controlling minds."
     On the television, Mitchell's image appeared. "Howdy, boys and girls. I'm Mitch, and I'm a scientist, and I'm going to show you why you should trust me." The TV Mitchell whipped open his white lab coat to reveal a huge item of his anatomy. "The bigger the better, and the better the smarter. So trust me, and I'll make you happy." His image was replaced by an angry Bizzo the Clown, claiming that Mitch was a fake, and that it was done with mirrors, and that he was still king stud of the tube.
     Then there was Mitch and Bizzo facing each other, exposed and shouting boasts of virility and fertility. Mitchell turned it off. "Julius, I'm going after it. If the Air Force sees that, they will be certain that I am part of a conspiracy with this thing. I'll be tried and hung as a traitor if I don't do something to stop it."
     "Mitchell, how did it know you? You've never been on TV before."
     "I was there last night, face to face. It must have ways of seeing into minds. My name was not mentioned at the scene where we encountered it, to my knowledge, nor the fact that I am a scientist. It must have seen the disbelief in the colonel's mind and the determination in mine. I'd better get packed and going. If I don't leave soon, there will be MP's to see I don't leave. See that Connie doesn't get the blame for this."
     "She'll be mad that you ran off without her."
     "I know, but what I have to do will not be easy. It will be better for her staying here. I don't want her to have to live on the run. I'll call her house when I can. I don't think it would be safe to call here. They will probably put a tap on the phone, once they find that I am gone."
     "Be careful."
     "I shall be. Before I go, I want to see in which direction the source lies. Let's give it a run."
     Mitchell turned the TV back on, and his image and Bizzo the Clown were wrestling. His figure got the upper hand and started sodomizing Bizzo, yelling "Science comes out on top!" Mitchell turned red in the face, his fists clenched. "It knows that I'm its prime enemy. Get a reading, Julius. I want to get that thing. It's just made this personal."
     They warmed up the equipment and took a reading sweep and found that the source was now at 41 degrees . "Moved, as I thought. To the northeast. That will help some, since they will be looking for me toward the northwest. Julius, add a hidden switch to the power supply output, loaded to parallel. I don't want the Air Force to have a clue as to where I'm searching. I need all the head start I can get. Tell Connie that I hope she understands. She is so headstrong."
     "Don't worry about Connie."
     "I'll be too busy. Julius, take care."
     "You do the same. Good luck, Mitch."
     Mitchell went out to the truck and drove off, just missing the arrival of the Air Force in numbers.

     Connie was in the kitchen making lunch to calm her nerves. She didn't feel like eating, but she needed something to do. She muttered curses under her breath at Mitchell for leaving her behind. Claire walked into the kitchen. "There are some cars that just pulled out front. They look like government cars." The door bell rang. "Want me to get that?"
     "No. I'll get it. They want to talk to me, no doubt. Just make sure nothing burns on the stove." Connie went to the front door after straightening her appearance. She opened the front door with a frown. "Yes?"
     "Connie Roberts?"
     "Yes."
     "I'm General Mason Jiars. I'd like to have a word with you, if I might."
     "Okay."
     "Inside, please." he added. There was already a crowd gathering outside to see if more activity was going to take place.
     "Very well. Come in, alone."
     "I have need of my assistants in this conversation."
     "Two, but no more, and Mr. Freidrickson is under no circumstances to set foot in my house. I'll shoot him if he tries."
     "Please, Miss Roberts. He is my primary consultant."
     "Then you are a bigger fool that I took you for being. I have changed my mind. I have nothing to say to you if you value the word of that snake in the grass thief."
     "What is it that Dr. Freidrickson is supposed to have stolen?"
     "Credit for new scientific discoveries. The man is stupid and without morals. He would do anything to climb the ladder of success in the academic world. The man doesn't know his left hand from his right hand, only how to steal credit for what is not his." Connie slammed the door, steamed. There came another knock. She opened the door again.
     "Very well, Dr. Helmut Freidrickson will remain outside."
     "Out in the street. He is not welcome on my property, period."
     The general turned and gestured Helmut to go back to the car. Only when he was at the car did Connie allow the general and two others into the house. She sat, but did not offer chairs or libations to the men, as was her custom. "What do you want?"
     "Do you know where Dr. Mitchell Harrison is at the moment?"
     "No."
     "You have not heard from him?"
     "No. He ran off from the observatory while I was asleep and left me behind, something that I do not appreciate. With the way that you view his efforts to help rid the world of this menace, I am not favorably inclined toward the Air Force."
     "We have reason to believe that he is involved with the plot to carry out this activity."
     "Then you are as stupid as I think you are for accepting the word of that jackal Helmut. Mitchell helped a friend receive the credit he deserved after that jerk tried to steal it for himself. He holds a grudge against Mitchell for that, and is likely to slander him at any chance he gets. You should be ashamed for believing a pack of lies."
     "You have reason to believe that Dr. Harrison is not affiliated with these television pirates?"
     "I've spent most of the last seven years working with Dr. Harrison for most of our waking hours. He has not had the time to be involved with such an endeavor. He is not that type of man to become involved with such filth. Mitchell is an honorable man. I do not give my loyalty lightly, and I am loyal to him. He does not deserve such mistreatment. He is only trying to rid the world of this abomination."
     "Then why did Colonel Fiers report that Dr. Harrison led them to a decoy?"
     "Dr. Brinks and I discussed this. I was there at the site, if you are not aware of the fact. I saw the entire incident from Mitchell's side. I believe that not only does it have the power to put to sleep anyone that watches it, but that it also has the ability to warp the truth in the mind of its watchers as well."
     "Then you are of the mind that the incident was not a hoax?"
     "Absolutely. I admit that it seems like a joke, but I have never seen a TV do what that TV did. It was unnatural. It was a thing of intelligent power. I could feel it throughout my being. I understand that with its appearance, it all seems like a joke. But I assure you that neither of us knew what we were going to face until we got there. In my estimation, you owe Dr. Harrison an apology for doubting him so."
     "There are those that think otherwise."
     "Then they listen to poor advice."
     "Are you in love with Dr. Harrison?"
     "That is irrelevant. I have stated that I am loyal to him after a long time of working with him. I am very careful where I place my loyalty. That is something you're obviously not, seeing how you believe that cretin Freidrickson. You could not seek a poorer source of advice."
     "He seems intelligent enough."
     "That is because he tells you what you want to hear, not the truth."
     "You are entitled to your opinion. So you have not heard from Dr. Harrison?"
     "As I have already answered adequately. I wish I did know so that I could go help him destroy this menace. That I am here is proof enough that I do not know his location."
     The phone rang. Connie stood and went to answer it. It was Henry from the observatory. "Connie, Dr. Brinks is having trouble. I think it's a heart attack. He was arguing with Colonel Fiers, then he started having pains in his left arm and got real weak and sweaty. They have just taken him to the hospital."
     "Thanks, Henry. Memorial Hospital?"
     "I think so."
     "I'm on my way over. Bye."
     "Connie, what should I do here?"
     "Make sure that nobody messes with anything. In fact, you should close the observatory down and lock it tight. Get everyone to leave. Just a minute." She turned to the men in her living room. "General, Dr. Brinks has suffered a heart attack. I need to be with him in the hospital, and with Dr. Harrison not likely to return, we need to shut the facility down. Could you ask your men to please leave the inside of the observatory so that we may lock it? Your men may remain outside, but with no one of authority present, we need to close it to insure security."
     "I will radio in the order."
     "Also, I need to get to the hospital. Would you gentlemen kindly excuse me? He has no relatives to handle the paper work at the hospital. I am needed there immediately."
     "Very well. This had better not be a ploy."
     "General, it was one of your officers that agitated Dr. Brinks into suffering the attack. Colonel Fiers, to be precise. Kindly do not insult me further. I would resent it to the utmost." She gestured to the door, and the men showed themselves out.
     "Henry, the Air Force men should get an order to leave the building. They will probably remain outside. Make sure that they take nothing with them. They do not have a right to help themselves to our equipment."
     "Okay, Connie. I hope I can do that."
     "Just do it and worry about it later. Got to get rolling. Handle it like I know you can. Bye."
     She dropped the phone and went to the kitchen. "Claire, I need you to hold down the fort. Julius has had a heart attack, and I need to go to the hospital. Eat what you want and put the rest in the fridge. Don't let anybody but your friends inside the house. Tell anyone that comes looking that they can find me at the hospital. If Mitch calls, find out where he is without being specific. Tell him to use an event we had in common to describe what is close by, like ten miles north of where we had our last picnic. No highway numbers, towns, stuff like that. Got it?"
     "Yeah."
     "Tell him that Julius is in Memorial Hospital, and that there will be those there that he doesn't want to see. The phone might be tapped, so be careful. Let's give him all the help we can without getting him in trouble. There are those that want to stop him from doing what he needs to do."
     "Okay, no problem. We have a code."
     "Yes, I remember. For once I'm glad you do. I've got to go. This is a lot of responsibility for you to handle. You've been very good since Mom and Dad died. This will take a bit extra. Be good."
     She kissed Claire on the cheek and went out the door, grabbing her purse. Outside, the general told her that he had given the order for his men to leave the observatory. She nodded and thanked him, gave a dirty look to Helmut, then got in her car and drove off.

     Mitchell had gone to the mountains. He had gone home and collected his camping supplies and headed for altitude. He followed a little known road up into the lower peaks. He sat with his radio equipment without a TV and plotted from a single point the movement of the source.
     Now that he knew that it was mobile, he wanted to see how mobile it was, and what patterns it followed. He ate trail rations and took notes. He wanted his trail to cool a bit before searching out the source that plagued the air waves. He wanted the Air Force to have other things to think about when he made his move.
     He noted that the interruptions were growing more frequent and longer in duration as time went on. He was puzzled as to whether it was something along the lines of it gaining the power to sustain the broadcasts, or if it was just following a schedule, learning what it was doing as it went along.
     It had shaken him to see himself humiliated on TV. That implied that it could evaluate thought unspoken. It also implied that this force would grow more powerful as it gained knowledge. He knew that he could not afford to sit on the sidelines for long.
     Mitchell stayed put for two days, until his restlessness forced him toward action. His first act was to check into a motel and watch television. He wanted to know what was being broadcast before he went after the alien TV.

     Roscoe sat with Sarah Diesen at her house, drinking beer and watching TV. They were both howling and giggling with delight as Mitchell was on the screen thumping his chest, wearing only an open lab coat.
     "I am obviously a superior mind because I have a superior anatomy!" The image thrust out its hips to punctuate the point. "I'm a real man." The picture panned back to show a line of lovely women fainting with bliss.
     "Just like him." said Roscoe, prying open another can of beer and licking the opener. "Those guys have his self-image down pat. He thinks he's god, and he has some means of getting all the girls to think so, too."
     "Not me, Roscoe."
     "And that is why you are blessed with my company."
     The scene changed on the TV to show Richard Nixon, standing with Eisenhower, Khrushchev, and Brezhnev. Nixon reached in his pants and extracted his hand and rubbed it Krushchev's face, looking at the audience. "I'm going to be president one day."
     "Over my dead body." replied Krushchev, licking his face clean.
     The two on the couch roared with laughter.

     Downtown, things were not so frivolous. Julius had stabilized, but was severely weakened. It was too much effort for him to rise out of bed. The military had shown up to talk to him, but Connie convinced the doctor to order them kept from his room. Helmut Freidrickson, not being in uniform, tried to get in his room. Connie met him with such fierceness that he backed away with merely scratches to his face and an anger at being balked again.
     Though he had undergone the trauma of a heart attack, Julius demanded the right to watch television to see what the creature was doing. He made Connie sit through it with him, and they spoke of the intent of broadcasts, making notes as to what the desired effect was. Julius promised not to get excited, but his promise didn't hold for Connie. She almost picked up something and smashed the screen one time when Mitchell was the image shown. But Julius calmed her by explaining it as a fear reaction, saying that the TV found him to be a serious threat, and was trying to throw Mitchell off guard and get others not to trust him. They continued taking notes.

     Claire stayed home by the phone. There were many calls, but none of them were the calls she desired, except for the updates from Connie. She didn't watch television, being revolted by what little she saw. But the calls she got always mentioned something that was shown. She could tell that the new things being shown were becoming popular, now that the shock had worn off. She still wasn't interested in Esther Williams being eaten by alligators or Johnny Wiesmuller being spanked and crying like a baby or Jay Silverheels scalping pioneer women with a maniacal laugh, and she told people so. Those sort of phone calls thinned out.
     She wished that Mitchell would call, but no call came.

     An attractive young couple was copulating on screen when Mitchell decided it was time to check out. He had to wait through the entire twelve minute scene before he could get the attention of the desk clerk. When he did, it was, "Hey, the good doc, cool. Man, you are way out. What brings you out here?"
     "Laying low. I'll trust you to forget that I was here." Mitchell held up a twenty dollar bill, attempting to cover his tracks.
     "Hey, doc. For you, absolutely free. In fact, the room is on me. Keep it strutting high, doc."
     "Sure." He bowed, turned around, and left in a hurry as soon as he was out of eye shot.. He drove south, following the sighting, which was almost constant. He trembled occasionally in anger. As he headed further south, a storm started appearing to the west, showing a multitude of very intense lightning, matching his mood exactly.

     Connie arrived at home, finding the house a bit messy. Understanding what Claire had taken on her young shoulders, she wasn't about to fuss. Claire was in her room playing the record player. She followed sounds of "Peggy Sue" by Buddy Holly to her bedside. "A bit loud, don't you think?"
     "It's the one thing that isn't affected." Claire stopped the record. "Henry called. The observatory has been broken into. The homing set was taken, he said."
     Connie bit her tongue. "Freidrickson. It had to be his idea. If they both go off after it at the same time. . . . I've simply got to get in touch with Mitchell, but how? Where is Henry?"
     "At the observatory."
     "I'll be there if you need me." Connie headed back out the door, throwing a sandwich together as she went through the kitchen.

     General Jiars, Colonel Fiers, and Major Perry were reviewing the notes that Helmut had made using the directional radio. "It's moving. How in the world can something broadcasting that powerfully move?" asked the general.
     "We don't know, sir. Maybe they have it mounted on a large truck and are using a balloon for an antenna hoist. We've used that type of antenna often enough. They have several trucks and run on schedules, first here, then there, while the other moves."
     "They must be using pretty sophisticated equipment."
     "That goes without saying, sir."
     "Well, shall we get going? Gather all the men we have in the area."
     "Even the guards on the observatory, the hospital, and elsewhere?"
     "Yes. We'll need all the men we can get, and it would take too long to get more from the base. We will catch the violators first, then worry about Harrison. Everybody is watching the TV now, it seems. Once we get control of the air waves back from the insurrectionists, then we can send out a picture of him. That will speed up our search. What harm can he do us now? We have his radio."
     "One of them, sir. He has the other. It would be easier if we had the other. Then we could pin point the source, rather than know just the direction."
     "Can we build another of these?"
     "Dr. Freidrickson says that it is beyond his ability to construct one of these."
     "Then what good is he?"
     "Sir, he is the most brilliant man available."
     "If he can't make one of these, then he isn't all that smart. I'm beginning to wonder about your assessment of this Harrison."
     "Sir, he led us on a wild goose chase."
     "With the same equipment that we are trusting now at the advice of Dr. Freidrickson. I don't know. I think it's hasty to condemn him without hearing what he has to say."
     "But sir, he led us to a TV with trick lighting and sound effects and knock out gas."
     "We are dealing with an unknown. It could have been a decoy that he fell for, not necessarily one he was in on."
     "I just don't think so. Look at the times he's appeared shamelessly on the interruptions. How'd they get his picture if he wasn't cooperating?"
     "Fiers, they had the president and vice president, and they certainly weren't cooperating."
     "But that was from a previous filming, most of it. Harrison has never been on TV before."
     "But he was shown only after he was there for the incident when everyone fell asleep. Maybe they got it then."
     "Sir, I think that you are picking at straws."
     "Perhaps. Gather the men. Let's get this operation rolling."
     "Yes, sir. Major Perry, please instruct radio Team A to call all the troops together."
     "Yes, Colonel Fiers."

     Bugs Bunny had shot Elmer Fudd in graphic detail, and the Road Runner was pecking at the carcass of Wiley Coyote when Mitchell stopped for gas. He had to pump it himself, since the attendant was too engrossed in the broadcasts. As he was paying, he decided to buy a newspaper, since there was no longer any news coming from television or radio.
     On the front page was news of the struggle to keep nuclear war from breaking out. The rest was a plea from the president for everyone to unplug their TV sets and radios until the crisis was resolved.
     Harrison waded through the national news, seeing that the effect was happening world wide. Then he slowed down when he got to local news. The headline, quite small, about Julius suffering a heart attack, stopped him cold. He threw the truck in gear and headed for a pay phone.
     His first call was to Connie's house, as planned. Claire answered. Fearing a possible tap, he disguised his voice. "Is dat yo, worry wart?"
     "Jubbers! Bout time. Foots?"
     "Slow go, study. What gives with the diamond ring?"
     "Uh, came out of the mounting. Sent for repairs."
     "And yo sib?"
     "Wearing sun glasses for night vision. The hinge got broken, and she can't hear the tunes for the box no mo'. Took a hike on a plane."
     "Big boys?"
     "The rooster and some stars. Big stuff move in, and they are using greasy guts."
     "The helmet?"
     "Yo got it. Messy and stupid."
     "Coast?"
     "Still cloudy, no sign of clearing. Don't know much more."
     "Well, sweet pies, yo get a big kiss when I sees ya next."
     "Promise?"
     "Any way yo like it."
     Claire made a long slurping kissing sound over the phone. "That's the way I like it. Don't forget."
     "Can't wait. Ta-ta, sweet than'. Be good."
     "Like always. Bye."
     Mitchell hung up and called the observatory. Connie answered.
     "Yes, this is Dr. Known with the Concord Radio Institute, calling for Dr. Mitchell Harrison. Could I speak to him, please?"
     "Mitchell?"
     "Yes, if he is available."
     "I'm afraid that he isn't here. Neither is Dr. Brinks. Dr. Harrison is out of touch, and Dr. Brinks is currently in the hospital."
     "Oh dear. I hope that it's not too serious."
     "He suffered a heart attack, but is still alive and recovering. He is weak, but still in his right mind. We are having a hard time getting him to relax from his work."
     "Well, are there any notes compiled for us? We have been studying the available data, and we are not finding it to be sufficient for what we want. Would you have access to these notes we desire, Miss. . . ."
     "Roberts. Yes, we have some, though things around here have been rather chaotic, with this TV thing involving the doctors. There was even a break in here at the observatory, and some radio equipment was stolen. I'm not sure if it was what they were working on for you."
     "Do you know if the modifications were completed as we requested?"
     "I'll have to ask. Please hold a moment." Connie asked Henry, and he shook his head no. "I'm afraid not. There have been so many interruptions that that alteration was not made."
     "I see. Perhaps one of our representatives could meet with one of your people to see what has been done so far."
     "Hold on a moment, please. I hear something outside." Connie sent Henry to look outside at the commotion. He returned a few moments later, and told Connie that the Air Force was pulling out, leaving no one.
     "I'm sorry for the delay, but we just had a large number of people here, and they are all leaving. Yes, we could have someone deliver the notes to you, though we may need a little time to find and gather them. Where would you like them delivered?"
     "Well, I could send a man there."
     "Things are such chaos here. How about the Starlight Motel? We could send someone to meet you there."
     "Okay. We'll have him check in and wait for delivery. I hope that it is someone that can add to what notes we are given, once read."
     "We'll do our best."
     "I appreciate it. It will be a relief to compare notes. Thank you, Miss Roberts."
     "The pleasure is all mine. I'm glad you called on this matter."
     "Until later."
     Mitchell replaced the receiver, then got in the truck and headed for the alternative site where they set up a portable observatory that they used when they needed to observe a second event when the main telescope was in use.

     Connie arrived at the location, an old building with no roof, up in the hills atop a peak. She saw no sign of Mitchell as she drove up, but she half expected that he would not leave clues to be seen. She drove up to the entrance and saw a huge mound covered by a tarpaulin inside the roofless stone walls. She sighed relief and parked inside.
     Mitchell came out from under the tarp, and she ran to him, carrying a heavy folder of notes. She dropped it and hugged him. "I've been so worried about you. This is such an awful mess. Are you doing okay?"
     "As long as I'm not recognized. People actually like what they see of me on the TV. Makes me feel sick to my stomach, but I have to play the part to keep from being reported. Does the Air Force have the other finder unit?"
     "Yes, and the kill switch was never added. They arrived right after you left, and they have been there since, until today. From what I could gather, they are pulling their men together to go after this thing. They are taking advice from Helmut Freidrickson, and he is bad-mouthing you. You're as guilty as you ever were."
     "Julius?"
     "Weak, but stubbornly staying on the case as much as he can. He's been watching the programs and making some notes. I brought them. I would have been here sooner, but I went by the hospital to see him before coming here. And I talked to Claire. I stopped by the house to pack us a picnic basket. I thought that you might be hungry."
     "Not at the moment. I'd like to read the notes first, then discuss this with you as to what we might deduce beyond. I don't mean to be callous with you, but I feel a sense of urgency. I'd hate to see what the colonel would be like after a second exposure."
     "Then read, and I'll fix you lunch. I'm happy just seeing you again."
     Mitchell grunted, already reading the notes.

     The Air Force had its men gathered on trucks, with helicopters and fighter jets standing by. Helmut took a reading, and they started the trucks rolling in that direction. General Jiars felt confident that they were doing the right thing, at last.

     The TV just finished showing a three hour movie called "Hot Rods Bound for Hell." Roscoe was so inspired that he dragged Sarah out to his T-Bird and took off with his foot to the floorboard. Roscoe was apparently not the only one that watched the movie, because all the other fast cars in town were out on the road weaving at breakneck speed. The police tried to halt the turmoil, but they were too few and the drivers too bold and unmindful of the rule of law.
     While decoys were set among the banding roadsters to draw the police away, a separate group of drivers gathered and looted a auto parts store that specialized in racing equipment. The owner and employees had to flee for their lives. While the plundering was waning, a group of truck drivers arrived, and a vicious battle erupted, with a number from both sides being shot and killed. A few others died from physical blows from tire chains and tire tools. The store was bloody mess when the fighting ended.
     Robberies started elsewhere, with liquor stores being the most often hit first. No one was after cash, and the cash registers were never opened. The robbers were after merchandise. Booze and cigarettes were followed by guns and ammunition, then by gasoline and glass bottles. Civil war began to break out, and there were no clear cut sides. It was more like every gang for itself. Gun fire, explosions, and screams were heard more and more frequently as the day progressed. After the stores were well looted, women became the next target for the gangs to get by pillaging.

     At the outbreak of violence, Claire realized that the house was not a safe place to be. She wrote a note to Connie and made her way to the observatory, having to wreck three pursuing cars that were after her. She knew two of the drivers and felt sick at having to use her driving skills to force them off the road.
     She arrived at the observatory crying and trembling violently, the car heavily dented. Henry had devised a new lock for the observatory using a heavy steel rod to bar the door shut. He let her in and resealed the door. It took some time for Claire to get control of herself and out of the grip of fear. But being inside the facility with the roof shut and the windows in the small offices boarded shut gave her the sense of security that she needed. Henry did what he could to help. After she quit sobbing, there was nothing to do but wait and hope that they weren't besieged.

     From the hill top, smoke could be seen rising from all around.
     "It looks like a war. What is going on down there?"
     "It likely is a war, Connie. From what I can ascertain from Julius's notes, the channels have stopped being random, and each channel is appealing to a separate social faction. Hot rodders, anti-Communist, the poor, the community minded, colored, cowboys, and so forth. Seems that the programs are now being used to pollute the minds along factions, instilling hatred of that group for everyone not in that group. It seems that the hatred has reached its kindling point."
     "That will make it hard for you to go chasing down this creature."
     "Probably part of its plan. It wouldn't surprise me. But I think that its main goal is to destroy mankind by using mankind to do its dirty work for it. I had better get started in tracking it down. I feel that I've learned everything that I'm going to learn about it."
     "Mitchell, you are not going to leave me behind. You've done that once already."
     "Connie, this is too dangerous for you."
     "No more dangerous than it is for you. You're not leaving me behind. If what you say is true, a nuclear war could break out. If that happens, I want to be with you in the end. I won't sit around and be left wondering what is happening to you. I've done too much of that already."
     "You need to go take care of Claire."
     "She has probably already gone to safety. I hope she has. But I am going with you. You need me to drive while you track. You can't do both at once."
     "All right, but I don't like it."
     "You don't have to like it. You just have to take me with you. Now let's go find a phone, if they are still working."
     They left her car at the building and drove down off ofthe hill. They found a phone and got no answer from the house. Then Connie called the observatory and found out that Claire was safe inside with Henry. The phone went dead in mid-conversation. Attempts to reach the hospital were futile. They took a reading, studied the map to find a safe way in that direction, then drove on.

     It was toward sunset that the receiver in the truck began to show a distinct variance in direction as they drove. "We must be getting close, General." shouted Helmut up to the front seat. "Off to the right, maybe a mile away. There is a road on the map about a quarter mile ahead."
     "I see it. Thanks, doctor." General Jiars ordered the driver to make the turn onto the dusty dirt and gravel road. Being in the first truck, the general gave little thought in ordering the trucks to keep a tight driving formation. This made everyone from the second truck on back eat heavy dust. The general didn't even notice, so focused he was on finding the source of the interruption to the air waves.
     "It's off to the left, about twenty degrees, and the needle is rising on the scale. Have your men keep a sharp lookout."
     "Will do, doctor."
     About half a mile down the road, the signal started to swing around to the side. "Directly to the right. Probably right over that hump."
     "Shall I call for air support?" asked Colonel Fiers.
     "No time. Stop the trucks. Get the men off the trucks and form a line. We'll go over the rise together."
     "Get a move on, Major!" barked the colonel.

     Mitchell and Connie had skirted the violence in the town, but there was enough on the highway to delay them. Fortunately, the truck was heavy and handled running the bandits off the road before they got a shot off into a delicate location, like the radiator, tires, radio, or their bodies.
     They followed the signal for a couple of hours before the needle rose on the scale to where it showed being close by. Then it vanished. They drove on down the road in despair at losing it, until Connie spotted lights off to the right of the road. Mitchell turned down the gravel road to investigate. They approached slowly in case of danger, but the line of trucks was abandoned. Mitchell saw the insignia and the footprints. He made Connie stay with the truck while he went to investigate. There he found the sleeping bodies of fifty Air Force men and Helmut Freidrickson.
     He returned back to the truck. "It's our boys in blue. All sleeping soundly. We'd better take back our receiver. Probably in the first truck. I feel that we'd be better off if they were stranded out here when they wake up. I'll remove the batteries from the truck and disable their radios. Not that they are likely to use them with the air waves jammed. Go find the truck with the receiver and bring it back around. I'll get the batteries, a few guns, which we might need, and ruin their radios."
     Connie went up to the first truck and brought it around. Mitchell first collected the rifles and pistols and ammunition before he started disconnecting the batteries and placing them on his truck.
     He was about half way through when a squadron of jets flew over the convoy at low level. "Get that truck rolling. The TV probably called them in, and there is no telling what they'll do. Roll, no headlights for the pilots to see. Go as fast as you can without having a wreck."
     Connie started the truck, and Mitchell followed after turning his truck around. They had made about a quarter mile down the gravel road when the jets returned and the trucks behind them exploded into flames. Mitchell honked for Connie to drive faster in the light of the explosions. They made they highway when a bomb landed too close behind them for comfort.
     They were on the highway and rolling fast when flares lit the night. But there were other cars about, and they were not harassed further by the jets. They checked the gas gauges on the trucks and found them in need of fuel. They pulled into the next filling station that they found, but it was closed. They were met by a pair of men with shotguns and a bright flashlight. Mitchell held up his hands. "We need fuel. We are willing to pay for it."
     "Holy cowabunga, Hank. It's the good doc and Connie. Sorry about scaring you. Didn't know it was you. What are you doing out here?"
     "Fighting the war, boys."
     "Well hell, doc. Gas is on the house. Sure is something to meet you. Hell, you're the best hero on TV. And you are prettier in real life, Connie. I tell you, you two have sure made my pants awfully tight at times. You two have real class in bed. Boy, you are a lucky man, doc."
     "Boys, I'd like to stay and chat, but there is a war going on."
     "Sure, no problem. Hank, you fill up the doc's truck."
     "Hell, Billy, I wanted to fill Connie 's."
     "You fill doc's."
     "Oh, all right."
     Connie came over and stood with Mitchell while the trucks were being filled. "What is this?" she whispered.
     "It's nothing new to me. Just go along with it and be nice to both of them. Smile, act like a woman with desires that is too busy to do what she likes and is sorry about it. Above all, don't act nervous."
     "Yeah, right, Mitch." She took a deep breath and went over and flirted lightly with each of them in turn, stroking cheeks and batting her eyes, telling them that she was sorry that they were in a hurry to get where they were going.
     The trucks were filled, a new direction defined by the receivers to check accuracy of the one that had been stolen, and they were soon back on the road, Mitchell taking the lead with the sawed-off shotgun in his lap that Billy had given him for defense while driving.

     Claire looked through the periscope that Henry had rigged, watching the hot rods racing about the parking lot of the observatory. There had been an unsuccessful attempt to break in half an hour earlier, the defenses Henry had set holding firm.
Henry was down on the main floor drinking a Nehi grape soda and eating a cold salami sandwich. He sat at the table with a rifle lying on it, pointing at the door.
     Gun fire erupted again, and Claire saw the cars swing toward the left where the entrance lay, just beyond the range of vision of the scope, blocked by the building. She surmised that a rival faction had arrived to do battle. There were loud crashes and more shots fired. Then she saw two trucks roll into view. She recognized the first one.
     "Henry! Open the door! It's Mitchell!"
     The trucks pulled right to the door and Henry had the bar off, rifle in hand. He opened the doors and Claire and Henry ran out to help. Connie jumped from the Air Force truck and hugged her fiercely, then took a rifle from the cab and started shooting at the hot rodders. Faced with concentrated fire from stationary shooters, the remaining hot rods took off.
     Mitchell jumped into the back of the trucks to make sure that the equipment was unharmed. Fortunately, none of the stray bullets had done any damage to them. There were two flat tires that needed changing. Mitchell and Henry started on getting the trucks jacked up and Connie led Claire inside to start gathering need supplies from the workshops.
     "You'll be going with us. We four will be going after the TV. You and I will drive while Henry and Mitch work the equipment and ride shotgun. I'm so glad that you are okay."
     "I had an awful time getting here."
     "I know. It hasn't been fun for me either. People are turning crazy from watching TV. It could get even more dangerous. But at least we'll be in touch from here on. No more wondering. Have you heard from Julius?"
     "The phones have been dead since I talked to you last."
     "I guess somebody bombed the phone company. Here, help me with this."
     They loaded the needed items on the truck and were finished by the time that Henry and Mitchell had changed the tires. Mitchell went to the auto shed and found a couple of tires that would act as new spares, despite being rather bald of tread. Mitchell brought a welding machine from the workshop and welded the doors shut, since it couldn't be locked any other way from the outside.
     They took another reading, explained to Claire and Henry what they planned on doing, then drove off, leaving their fortress of science behind.

     The helicopters arrived on the site after the men had wakened to find their trucks scattered piecemeal across the landscape. General Jiars was still angry that no one had obeyed his command to open fire on the TV. Colonel Fiers was angry that Dr. Harrison had duped them again with the bogus TV and use of knock out gas, despite a lack of evidence. Helmut had too much of a headache to think.
     The men that flew with the general were quiet the whole way back to the base. No one dared to bring his anger on themselves if it could be avoided by their silence. All the way back to base, the general took out his frustration by blasting his voice across the radio that heads were going to roll for the strafing and bomb run they suffered the night before. The general wanted no blame to follow him back to the Pentagon. What he got in return was Woody Woodpecker's laugh.

     Pop-eye was tying Olive Oyl into knots on the screen after eating spinach, then practiced tossing her through a basketball hoop and dribbling her across the floor. He sang,

I'm Pop-eye the Sailor man, toot!
I jump on 'em whenever I can, toot!
But this one's too skinny
For when I eat my spinnie.
I'm Pop-eye the Sailor man, toot, toot!

     He made another hoop.
     Roscoe rolled with laughter. "Look at Olive Oyl's head bouncing along behind her body. I love it."
     "I'm not too skinny for you, am I Roscoe?"
     "Aw, heck no. You're just right."
     "Ooooo. I like that."
     "You sure have gotten smart these last few days."
     "As long as I'm pretty, it doesn't matter. I want you to be happy."
     "Like I said, you're just right." Roscoe howled when Felix the Cat came on the screen and meowed like a tom sensing a female in heat.

     The two trucks had separated, and Henry and Mitchell had taken a series of readings from predetermined points on the map at given times. Then they met again at an arranged location, being a park where camping was popular. At the moment, it was unoccupied.
     They had seen the three different locations of broadcast when they combined the lines on the maps that they had retrieved from the observatory.
     Then they took a reading and started moving in that direction.
     As they were closing in on high scale readings, the location shifted again. Thus, they had to stop and separate and get another dual reading. From there, they decided on the new route and were rolling again.
     Again they approached the area, and the signal remained. They came up over the crest of a hill, and there was the TV sitting in the middle of the road. Connie, in the lead, slammed on the brakes. A formation of jet fighters came in overhead from out of nowhere, dropping bombs between them and the TV. Claire barely avoided a rear end collision. Mitchell screamed to the women to get them out of the area quickly. Claire stalled the truck trying to shift into reverse, a skill she had not yet perfected on the unfamiliar military truck she was driving.
     The jets were coming around low again, and Mitchell told everyone to run. He barely had everyone behind cover when the two trucks exploded into flames as the jets roared by. The concussion stunned everyone, but Mitchell managed to gain his feet.      Helicopters came up the slope below the road and rose into view. Mitchell had managed to crawl under a sheet of metal, trying to find shotgun shells for the sawed-off he still held. He could find none in his pockets.
     The helicopter settled and men emerged to take Connie, Claire, and Henry, all too stunned to flee, back to the copter. Mitchell wanted to stop them, but he knew that the Air Force wanted him specifically, so he stayed still. At least he had the compensation of knowing that Connie, Claire, and Henry would be safe from harm. They were better off than fighting gangs.
     So he kept still, even though it hurt to do so. The helicopters lifted after a quick search by the men. Then Mitchell was left alone in the vast open country. The TV was gone, as was his detection equipment.

     Connie, Claire, and Henry were flown to the Air Force base and put under guard in a quonset hut. Henry put up some blankets as a curtain for the women's privacy. As he was finishing, General Jiars barged in.
     Connie gave him a fierce look.
     "What's your beef, lady?"
     "We almost had the menace, but your boys flew in and wrecked what chance we had. They even destroyed the homing receivers, our only means of finding it. You really messed things up. We'd be out of this mess if you hadn't bombed us."
     "Bombed you? What are you talking about, Miss Roberts?"
     "Those jets that bombed us."
     "I ordered no jets. They bombed my convoy as well."
     "I know."
     "How?"
     "I was there when the bombs fell on the convoy. That's twice I've nearly been killed by planes from my own country's defense. I don't want to talk to you."
     "Hey, Miss Roberts. I have ordered no planes to bomb anything. I don't go and bomb my own transportation as a rule."
     "Then why did they do it?"
     "I intend to find out."
     "Why are we being held?"
     "Look, I just found out five minutes ago that you were here."
     "I suppose that you didn't order the helicopters to pick us up after bombing us, either."
     "No. But I intend to find out exactly how it happened. Have you seen Dr. Harrison?"
     "What does it matter?"
     "It matters. I'm beginning to think that Colonel Fiers has a screw loose. I'd like to enlist Dr. Harrison's aid. If he was with you when you were facing this thing, then he's a good man, unlike accused. I'm beginning to think this Freidrickson is an idiot as you said. To beat this thing, I need the best. Otherwise, it will defeat us."
     "Okay. I believe you. You are desperate. Yes, he was with us. He managed to hide when the helicopters picked us up."
     "So he's still on the mountain where you were picked up?"
     "It was a hill, not a mountain."
     "Okay, but he's still there?"
     "I guess, unless he found transportation."
     "Let's pray he hasn't. Get the other two and follow me. You deserve better quarters than this. I want to apologize for the way that you have been treated. This can happen at times when command changes hands, before the facts are known. Bad advice is accepted in initial briefing and it causes undue trouble. Let us try and work together."
     "Could you do me a favor?"
     "Name it."
     "There is a Dr. Julius Brinks in Memorial Hospital. I want to know if he is still alive and safe. The phones are out, and I haven't been able to check on him. He heads the work team at the observatory."
     "I remember the call when you had to go see on him. I'll send a reliable team to investigate. Do you want him air lifted here if he is alive and there?"
     "Please. We could well use his input on planning."
     "Consider it done. This way, please."

     Mitchell found himself walking down the side of the road. As soon as he heard the approaching car coming uphill, he knew it was a mistake. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't bring himself to run from the road. He had to warn the people about the road being out, as suddenly as the bad spot appeared while coming over the rise. He waved as the headlights came on. He heard the engine rev in response. He moved over toward the side of the wall rising into the slope. A car couldn't climb.
     The car whipped back and forth wildly across the road, a bottle of gin passing hands in the car in laughter that Mitchell could hear. He lept onto a high rock as the car passed uncomfortably close. He shouted that the road was out as it zipped away. The car slammed on the brakes, burning tires. He heard a thunk into reverse. The car quickly backed up to him. He had the shotgun up, empty, but impressive in doubt.
     "Hey, the good doc. Man, what are you doing out here?"
     "Somebody tried to blow me off the road."
     "Sorry about the action, doc. Didn't recognize you until we got close. You got real balls to stand out in the road these days. Real class, doc. Real class."
     "The road is out, right over a hill. I didn't want none of the cool guys to buy it."
     "Yeah? Hey, we blow this rock down, and people can see it. Cool? Larry, the dynamite. I've been looking for a good excuse to use it. You want the honors, doc?"
     "Please." Mitchell tried to stay cool. He studied the blasting caps very carefully. He took the components and separated them. He took all the dynamite and wrapped it in a bundle. He set the charge in a crevice in the wall, then ran off an exact length of fuse. He attached the cap and gently inserted it into the bundle. He lit the fuse and ran. He hopped in the back seat of the Ford sedan. The engine revved, and he was soon half a mile from the site. The car stopped and waited for the fireworks.
     Mitch took a breath and looked at his watch. "Four, three, two, one, Bingo!" The dynamite ignited half a second late. "Losing my timing."
     "Like cool enough, doc."
     The road was clearly impassable. Confident that the other approach was clearly visible at the bombing site, he let the two men pass him the gin bottle and drive on. "Either of you guys got any twelve gauge number two or buck?"
     "Got some fours."
     "That 'll do in a pinch." Mitchell shut his eyes and leaned back, holding out the gin bottle in return, exhaling fumes.

     Henry watched as the helicopter dropped down toward the hospital. The helipad was lit. The gunners searched the darkness frantically for signs of ready weapons. The copter set down without a shot being fired. A landing copter had more to fear after landing. One could not steal a flying copter.
     Henry was the first out and into the hospital. He went straight to the information desk. "Is Dr. Brinks still in his room? Please check."
     "I can't guarantee that the information I have is accurate."
     "Please check. You might save me time if you hurry."
     "Okay. Yes, he is still listed in recovery."
     "Thank you." Henry waved the attending military physician along. Julius was still in the same bed as if nothing had happened since he had last seen Henry. It was business as usual. The physician spoke to him, then went to arrange transfer. Henry started giving Julius an update.

     Roscoe had ditched Sarah at the firelit dance that the hot rod gang threw. He had wandered off with the scent of a new lady filling his mind. A nova-hot blonde bombshell had strolled through the dance, then wandered dreamily out to the parking lot. Roscoe followed, among most of the other guys there. She got in her road racer and left with screaming tires. Roscoe's T-Bird echoed before anyone else could get rolling.
     She was quickly to the highway and headed out of town. He kept her tail lights in sight, as hard as she tried to lose him. He had just about caught her when she turned sharply onto a gravel road. Roscoe wet his lips, knowing that the road was a dead end at the river. He backed off enough not to catch loose gravel on his paint job, but dropped no further back. He slowed as she reached the last turn in the road. He came around the turn to find her stopped and climbing from the car, looking into his headlights. She started off for the woods, smiling at him as she ran.
     He drove up quickly and stopped his car. He was out and after her down the trail she had taken. He ran off into the darkness, using what little light that came from the car to find his way until it gave out in the twists of the trail. He had to slow down, as a couple of stubbed toes proved. He slowed and listened for sounds of her moving. He heard nothing but the purr of his engine. Then his engine gunned.
     Roscoe turned and ran back up the trail, listening to his car being turned around. He ran with a sick feeling, desperation firing his legs to record speed. He heard her car start, and he realized that she had someone in on this with her. It reeked of a planned setup. He reached the road to see her blow him a kiss and roar away in a choking cloud of dust behind his T-Bird.
     He waited for the dust to settle, then started walking up the road. He had walked for twenty minutes, cursing himself for an idiot, swearing revenge. "No girl is going to make a fool out of me and go unpunished!" he hollered, then saw a strange blue glow before him in the middle of the road. He walked closer and saw a TV running, dead in the center of the roadway.
     On the screen, he found as he moved close enough to see, was a picture of himself standing before the girl that had just stolen his car. She was strapped to a rack in her underwear, and he had a cat of nine tails, getting ready to flog her. "Yeah! Exactly, my friend." His image flailed her fiercely. "Lay it on good and hard!"
     Roscoe started laughing maniacally. "Kill her slowly and painfully!" he howled. "Death to all enemies of the highway!"

     Mitchell was half asleep when he heard excitement in the front seat.
     "Hey, doc. We got another road walker up here. Get an eye full from the other end. This guy doesn't have a wall to climb. Sure score. Hold tight for impact."
     Instead of running out of the way, the man shook his fist in the brightening beams of the headlights. Mitchell heard "Death to all enemies of the highway!" come through the open window. As they closed, the man pulled a large pistol. The windshield before the driver shattered into fragments. He yelled and fell into the wheel. The car struck the man in the road, and the car jumped as it ran over him.
     The car swerved to the right, the other passenger grabbing for the wheel. The car caromed off railing into the opposite ditch and smashed, turning over forward and starting to spin. Mitchell was thrown forward to the back of the front seat, the support driving into his chest. The roof closed in on him as the car lurched to a halt.
     Mitchell smelled gasoline fumes, and he started to work his way out the popped open door, bent smaller by the impact. The angle of the neck of the other passenger said plainly that he was no longer living. He worked his way from the car painfully, each movement an agony, but not as great a deterrent as his fear of a fire, trapped in the car.
     Though there was plenty of gas, a fire did not start. He lay there with the sawed-off shotgun in his lap, feeling where the shells had imprinted the skin of his torso when he had slammed into the seat. He cursed the insanity that had gripped the world, then he started crying, fully realizing his failure to stop it from getting worse, having been so close twice.
     He crawled further away from the car, knowing the possible concussion of that much gas igniting. He managed to get to his feet and started walking tenderly away from the wreck. A car came driving by slowly to avoid the body in the road.
     "Hey, it's the good doc. What are you doing way out here?"
     "Walking away from a wreck."
     "How cool can you get, doc? Need a lift?"
     "Wouldn't hurt as much as walking."
     The back door opened and he eased himself into the back seat where a girl was sitting. "Anything you need, stud, just whisper."
     "I'll keep that in mind." He got settled gently, then the car burned rubber while leaving the scene. Mitchell winced.

     Julius instructed the technician fully in how to build the directional receivers from the cot that he occupied full time, moved by bearers when needed. He drew schematics and explained the function as they went along. The man was good in electronics and caught on quickly.
     Connie had quit worrying over him like a hen and went to find Claire. True to her nature, she had drawn a crowd of young men around her, easy to do on the military base. She smiled in how normal it seemed, then how she probably looked terrible. She went to her quarters and asked the officers' wives that lived there if they had any spare make up. That broke the ice, and soon she was having a normal female conversation with the women who had suspended judgment on her, being a VIP. She was treated to a description of Helmut Freidrickson being tossed off the base without transportation.
     Underneath the smiles, she was worried about Mitchell vanishing on her again without word. She scolded herself for thinking the worst, but it did little good to raise her spirits inside. A helicopter came in on approach, and she was up to the window to see if Mitchell got off after it landed. As usual, she was disappointed. But this time, she received sympathy as she turned away from the window, something she had thought vanished from the Earth.

     Mitchell found his way home and drove to the observatory. He no longer had the cutting torch, gone with the truck. So he went to the ladder on the side of the wall to the left of the parking lot and went up to the dome level. He moved some sheet metal out of the way of the maintenance hatch and wormed his way inside. He shut it tight and breathed a sigh of relief, back at last in his castle alone.
     His mind wandered to Connie, Julius, Claire, and Henry. He hoped that they were safe and treated well. He made his way down the ladder and then to the basement workshop. He started pulling out components from the shelves and placing them on the table. He worked until his eyelids refused to remain open. He barely made it to a cot.

     Helmut drove up to the observatory, muttering curses. Having heard that the doors had been welded shut, he had procured a cutting torch. He backed up to the main door, opened the trunk, and lit the torch without removing the cylinder from the trunk.
     The echoing sound of the door being cut at the hinges woke Mitchell. He grabbed the sawed-off and sorely made his way up the stairs. He found the periscope when he went to a office to look out the window. "Nice touch, Henry." He looked out the prism viewer and saw Helmut cutting at the door hinges. "That's dumb, but that's Helmut." Seeing how he had already cut most of the hinges free, Mitchell figured it was too late to stop him. He went to the main entrance and waited for the door to give way.
     The dual welded heavy steel doors gave way on their hinges and dropped outward. Helmut hadn't been thinking carefully. He had gotten out of the way, but he had left his car with the cutting torch tank in the path of the drop. The door came down first on the trunk lid. The weight forced it closed, smashing down onto the acetylene and oxygen tanks. They ruptured with enough sparks from the weight of the metal door against auto metal.
     Mitchell was bringing the shotgun up to bear when it all went off, sending the door right back into its place. It slapped back against the door frame, then crumpled like paper inward from the force of the blast, assisted by the less volatile gasoline. There was enough gap in the imperfect reseating of the door to allow enough force to take Mitchell off his feet in a backward flip. The sawed-off had gone off his hands, almost unnoticed except for the kick, which hit him where he had taken the car seat the night before.
     Mitchell was lucky to have nothing behind him except padded floor, there to reduce visual vibration in the big scope from the act of walking. Beside temporary deafness and a sorer gut than before, Mitchell was none the worse for wear. Helmut was not so lucky. At least he had the luck to go quickly and not suffer, dying in less than a second after the ignition.
     When Mitchell was able to regain his feet, he saw a shadow pass over the burning wreck, giving a flickering effect. He snapped to the fact that it was a helicopter. He headed to the workshop, knowing that he had until the car burned out or was extinguished before the Air Force would be inside. He gathered all the parts he needed for his portable directional receiver and packed it away, about half finished in its construction. He added the tools he'd need to finish it.
     He grabbed the other items he needed from the shop and went to a work closet. He arranged things to make a large pocket in the rear and hid. His hearing hadn't yet returned from the concussion, or he would have heard Connie running all over the lab, worriedly searching for signs that he had been there. But he had been cautious in his stay and left none. Mitchell stayed hidden until his hearing came back and he could hear no signs of movement.
     When he emerged, he had found the doors replaced by sheet metal over the force-bent frame. He looked about for what might have been taken. He missed the note from Connie, sitting on the main table in plain sight, looking for things missing, not for things there. He went back out through the dome's maintenance hatch to the roof. He emerged to find his now commandeered car gone. Trying to remain undaunted, he started walking stiffly.

     Connie was worried at not being able to find Mitchell. He was not at home, at the observatory where she had witnessed the grueling burning of the unknown man who'd tried to break in, or anywhere else he could instinctively have gone. She feared him dead, but did what she could to bolster her sense of hope. She would not admit his death until she saw proof.
     That his car had been at the observatory had given her hope, but there had been no sign of his presence. Claire had given up her flirting and starting spending time with her sister, sensing that she needed it. Julius had taken the fact that his car had been at the observatory as proof that he still lived. Connie wished that she had such faith, having faced what was out there in the now violent world.
     The construction of the four new directional receivers was nearing completion. Another day and a few hours of testing would see them ready for service. Then the hunt would begin.
     The group was settling down for the evening meal when a commotion was heard from the distance. Several of the officers went to look, and it was discovered that a small army in cars was moving on the base gates. A call to battle stations went out by siren. Helicopters were heard lifting shortly thereafter, followed by automatic gun fire.

     Mitchell had found a good heavy truck and hot wired it. After that, he found a house that still had electricity, and got busy with the soldering gun finishing his portable finder. It was nighttime before he finished. He spent some time checking readings before gulping more aspirin and getting some well needed sleep.
     He woke to constant rain and dark gray skies. He decided to take some more rest and let the weather pass and his side heal better. He felt the menace was getting no worse. He settled on the sofa, shotgun in his lap.

     The battle had lasted well into the night before the last raiders had been killed or run off. The attacking roadsters had smashed the fence in several places, but none had reached anything valuable. Guards were posted for the night in case they returned. This did little to the base except to slow the completion of the directional receivers.
     The rain had added a sense of gloom to the morale at the base. But work progressed in strong determination. General Jiars was adamant about getting the TV, setting up new rules of operation after consulting with Connie and Julius. Preparations continued with the new D-day being the following morning.

     Mitchell woke from a dream that the TV had taken control of his body and forced him to kill Connie, Claire, and Julius. The shock of the images compelled him to rise quickly from the couch and turn on the television set.
     There was his usual good doc image in nothing but the traditional open lab coat. "I'm going to war today! I'm gonna pop a few bimbos and get out in the street and show the world exactly who's boss of this ball of mud. Anybody that feels the way I do is welcome to join me in whipping the sissy anti-science punks into their place."
     He turned the TV off. "You're right. I'm going to war today, against you." Mitchell went out to the truck and started it. He sat there letting the engine warm. A car pulled up next to him. Two men got out, leaving the driver inside.
     "Hey, you. We want your truck. Come on down. We won't give you a hard time."
     Mitchell looked out the window at them.
     "Well, well. It's the good doc. So you're going to war, huh?"
     "That's right." He flipped the shot gun out the window and blew the front tire on the car. He slipped the truck into drive while the men ducked from the shot. He started out, then whipped around as he saw the men bring guns to bear on his truck. He scattered them before they could get aim, caving in the side of the car with the massive bumper. He was off and around the corner before they got their composure.
     Several blocks away, the adrenaline started to subside. He replaced the spent shell from the chamber and then took a directional reading. He set off in that direction.

     The convoy was lined up at the main gate, consisting of forty five vehicles. Connie sat with Julius in the bed of one of the large trucks that were ready to roll.
     "Are you thinking about Mitch?" asked Julius.
     "Yes."
     "Worried about him?"
     "Yes. I don't feel that he is dead. Don't ask me why."
     "No need. Humans have more ability than is given credit."
     General Jiars climbed into the rear of the truck. "Are you settled and comfortable, doctor?"
     "Yes. I'll be okay as long as we don't bounce too high. I've been waiting for this chance for too many days to whine."
     "If it starts getting rough on you, tell the driver. He'll slow down for you. The physician will be with you shortly, as soon as he finishes his rounds with last night's wounded. I hope that this is the last time that we have to go chasing after this thing."
     "If we do as planned, it should go well."
     "I hope so. We should be rolling in about ten minutes. Holler if you need me."
     "Of course, general."

     Mitchell ducked gun fire, holding the wheel steady. The truck plowed into the road block, hitting two cars in the trunk as they were parked tail to tail. He avoided the engine pairing, not wanting the added weight in the impact. He was slammed against the wheel, further bruising his sore ribs, but his truck was still rolling. He sat up painfully, pressed on the accelerator, and straightened the truck to the road, which it was leaving after the impact.
     A few shots followed him, but none were close to hitting him. Steam was escaping from under the hood, indicating a damaged radiator. He decided not to stop until the block cracked or something major failed. He pressed down harder on the petal, heading in the general direction his equipment indicated.

     Barbara Killingworth sat in her house, snapping her fingers to the slow beat of Elvis's "Heartbreak Hotel" as it played on the record player. A bullet passed through the window. She snarled and shouted out the broken window, "Would you mind holding it down out there? You're giving me the headache of my life!" She turned her attention back to the movie "She Devils Get Even" for the castration scene as she sang along with the King.
     Mitchell crashed through the door, then returned fire with the shotgun through the open door sill. Then everything was quiet as the gunmen fled.
     "You sure have lots of nerve crashing in like this. I'm a nice girl."
     "I'm sure you are."
     "Oh, my. It's the good doc."
     "Please."
     "Sorry, doc. Didn't mean to rumple your space."
     "I don't mean to be fussy, but I'm getting tired of playing the part. Hey, don't I know you?"
     "No. I'd know if you knew me. You're famous."
     "Unfortunately. But that is not my doing. I'm trying to stop all this insanity. Wait. Were you a waitress up by Lake Trintha when the meteorite fell in the lake?"
     "Yeah. I used to live up there."
     "I was in that restaurant the morning after it fell. Some guy was fiddling with the TV. First time I saw a TV after it landed."
     "Huh. So I knew you before you were famous. Huh."
     "Do you have a running car?"
     "Yeah, out back in the garage."
     "I need it."
     "Where are you going?"
     Mitchell checked the portable finder.
     "What is that?"
     "It tells me which way the source lies."
     "What source?"
     "Of the TV programs."
     "Oh, you're going to make more films."
     "Let's say it's a contract negotiation."
     "Oh, you want more money. Sure, doc, you can have my car."
     "Thank you. . . ."
     "Bebe."
     "Thank you, Bebe. Yeah. Barbara. Now I remember. I appreciate this."
     "Sure, doc, no problem."
     Mitchell bowed to her, trying not to show his wince.
     "Just come back by when you have time to stay awhile."

     The convoy had split as planned, one group going to the right of the line of strongest signal, and the other went left. At a predetermined time, helicopters lifted and went in the direction of the signal to do an aerial search. Upon sighting the TV, they were to send a copter to each half of the convoy and report by dropped message.
     Connie looked up as the copter flew overhead and dropped the metal cylinder just off the road. An officer went to it, opened it, and read. Then it was brought to the general. The general came to their truck.
     "We've got it spotted, Dr. Brinks. It's floating in a small lake about twenty miles from here. We'll be notified if it moves."
     "You're heading there now, aren't you?"
     "Yes. As fast as we can get there."
     "Keep your eye out for jets, general." inserted Connie.
     "They are all grounded unless they get written orders from me, Miss Roberts. There will not be a repeat of the last disaster."
     The general hopped down. Connie sighed deeply.
     "Something wrong?" asked Julius.
     "Oh, I'm just hoping that we are not too late. Look at all that has happened to decency."
     "Perhaps when the effects of this monster start to fade, it will begin to return to normal."
     "I pray so, Dr. Brinks."

     Mitchell had dodged bullets, taking routes other than he had planned, but he drew steadily closer, watching the needle rise. But he had not the tools to calibrate the scale properly, so he couldn't tell how close.
     When it reached the top of the scale, he stopped and opened the unit and made an adjustment. The needle then rested in the middle of the scale. He got out to do a more accurate test away from the metal of the car. He consulted his map, drawing a new line on it from where he was to where the finder pointed. He checked for roads that led that way, then got back on the road. He made a turn off at the best route.
     About a mile down that road, he found a man standing in the middle of the road. From where Mitchell stopped, it looked like he was holding a pistol, but he couldn't tell. The man was yelling something. From the faint rhythm that Mitchell heard, he was yelling the "Death to all enemies of the highway." that he had heard before. Mitchell knew that he was close.
     He looked at the map and found no better access. He had to get around the man. He climbed out of the car and fired off a shell from the shot gun. The bluff failed to get a reaction. He stood there wondering what to do when he heard a faint rapid whipping noise. He turned off the engine and recognized the sound of helicopter blades turning. He didn't have time to wait the man out.
     He started the car with some trouble, being hot from the road. He backed up several hundred yards to get plenty of speed. He dropped the transmission into low and floored it. He shifted through the gears, then ducked down low behind the dash, barely peeking over. He kept to the center of the pavement, dead on for the man straddling the stripe.
     The windshield shattered, and Mitchell shut his eyes to the spray of glass. He looked up just in time to swerve to the right, barely missing the man, who fired at point blank range. His timing was a hair slow and he shot the back seat through the driver's window. Mitchell pressed down on the accelerator as soon as he was back one the road fully, still keeping his head down. A shot broke out the rear window. He heard the last two shots ring from hitting metal.
     He made another three miles before the car sputtered and died. He got out of the car to see a six inch strip of gasoline going back down the highway from where he came. He looked off in the distance as he unloaded his gear to see a small flame coming up that stripe of gas. He ran as quickly as he could up the road.
     As far as he ran, he was still knocked off his feet by the explosion. He rolled to protect his portable finder, which jammed into his sore ribs when he landed. He was up on his feet as swiftly as he could move. He knew that he had to find cover from the vision of the helicopter that the smoke would undoubtedly attract. He would not be stopped again this close.

     A second report came to the convoy by drop. "We're about five miles away from target. There are armed men acting as security for it. One car going that way was on fire. There may be some fighting, Doctor Brinks. You will be in the section at the rear of the line. You are too valuable to risk in a fire fight. No argument, Miss Roberts."
     "I was going to ask about the car. Was there a body?"
     "None the men could spot, but they couldn't see inside because of the fire still going. But no one reported anybody outside, dead or alive."
     "Thank you."
     "We'll be moving to the staging area and bring you up as soon as the area is secure. Until then, you wait where you stop. Are you holding up, doctor? If you are okay, we'll need the physician up front, most likely."
     "I'm holding up, general. He's yours."
     "Call out if you need him."
     "Don't worry about me, general."

     Mitchell scrambled across the rugged terrain, moving ever in the same direction that his finder indicated. He had to hide from the helicopters, the sound of machine gun fire from the air making him take the extra effort to be sure he wasn't spotted. He hadn't expected this much gun fire in so remote a locale. It was obviously the Air Force against somebody, probably the suiciders. He didn't want to foul up and get caught in the middle of flying bullets.
     But in following his path, he was faced with a wide open field that he had to cross. He waited until it was quiet, then ran at his top speed, despite the pain in his side. He topped the ridge and saw a small pond before him. He was about to chew himself for being an idiot and putting himself with no possible cover for hundreds of yards when he saw the TV floating not twenty yards away, facing him. He started to feel groggy, his eye lids getting heavy.
     He shook himself and turned around and hopped off the bank onto the slope. He got his footing and knelt to clear his head. Two men in Air Force uniforms came running up to him, weapons at ready.
     "Hold it right there, don't move a muscle."
     "Can I say something? It's important."
     "It better be."
     "I'm putting my weapon aside. Don't shoot, please. The source of the television signals is right over the rise in the pond up there. We have the chance to destroy it, but only if we act quickly, before it gets away."
     "Hey, wait a minute. Aren't you the good doc?"
     "Who?"
     "Yeah, sure you are. We've been looking for you for days, doc."
     "You can take me prisoner after we kill the TV. I'll go peacefully, after, not before. Help me destroy it now, please."
     "No, wait, doc. We're not going to take you prisoner. The general wants you to work with us."
     "The general? What happened to Colonel Fiers?"
     "Back at the base under guard for being an idiot. We want your help."
     "Then let's get that TV, now."
     "Sure, doc. Whatever you say. I don't want the general on my tail."
     They worked their way up to the lip of the slope, keeping their heads about water level. "Sergeant, I need your rifle. Here's what we do. I'm going to see if we are still in time to get it. If we are, I'll bring the rifle up and shoot it. If I don't react quickly, shake me awake. But don't let your heads get high enough to see it. At no time."
     "Sure, doc."
     Mitchell got to his knees and saw the TV still sitting in the water. He ducked and brought the rifle to his shoulder, then straightened up again. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The TV was staring at him over the sights. His mind started going blank.
     "The safety, doc."
     "Huh?"
     The sergeant pulled him back down and slapped his face. "You can't fire a rifle with the safety on. Right here, this tab. It goes that way."
     "Oh, again."
     Mitchell got wobbly to his knees again. The sight of the TV made him instantly drowsy. With a test of will, he pushed the tab to the right. The rifle went off in his hands, not yet to his shoulder. The kick shook it from his grip. He fumbled with it, brought it back up, and took aim. Then he just knelt there, looking at the TV, now pulsing an orangish yellow.
     "Shoot it, doc!"
     Mitchell finally felt the slaps to his face, the last one stinging. With crossed eyes, vision swirling into a hole, he pulled the trigger. The tube imploded with a far greater force than he expected. He didn't stop rolling until he reached the bottom of the dam's slope.
     From his state of total disorientation, he heard a yell of triumph from above him. There were vibrations in the ground, then a pair of boots flying before his face. "You did it, doc. You blew that little sucker clean away. Nice shot, doc. A real man."
     "You don't mind if I get some sleep, do you?"
     "Anything you say. Chambers, call in central on the radio."
     "But there is radio silence."
     "Look, that thing is gone. Radios are dependable again. Call and tell them to send a copter to look."
     "Good night." yawned Mitchell.

     Mitchell woke to something wet and rough being dragged across his face. He batted it away and opened his eyes, irritated from the rude awakening. Connie was there before him smiling.
     "Hello, Mitch."
     "I'm dreaming."
     "No, you're not. Not unless I am."
     "I'm dreaming. Somebody called me something other than the good doc."
     Connie laughed with twinkling eyes.
     "Has to be heaven."
     "I was so worried about you."
     "That makes two of us. Where are we?"
     "Not far from where you shot it. You are about to be taken on a helicopter ride with Julius and me."
     "Julius?"
     "Yes. We picked him up from the hospital. The general is a good man. Once he realized that the colonel was a screw shy upstairs, he kicked Helmut out and took Julius in. We've been trying to find you just about ever since I last saw you. If you had stayed on that road, you'd have been with us working with the Air Force. But all that matters now is that you are safe and this is all finally over."
     "We've got a long road back yet."
     "I know. It must have been pretty rough."
     "Nothing is too rough for the good doc." he chuckled and then winced.
     Connie smiled and shook her head.
     Julius arrived by the bearers of his cot. "Well, my boy, still in one piece, I see."
     "As are you, old man."
     "Ah, temper got the best of me. I never could abide too big a fool. And the colonel was being one. I hear that congratulations are in order for a well placed shot."
     "I almost didn't get it off. I'm still kinda dizzy from it."
     "It will probably wear off like the last time you fell asleep looking at it."
     "I hope so."
     The general walked up to the truck. "Well, doctor, I see that you're awake. Nice job in saving the day. A spotter said that it was getting ready to jump when you hit it. We had spotters see it turn red before, right before it would vanish. But the sergeant saw it sinking in the water after the explosion."
     "Implosion, general."
     "Whatever. It definitely blew up big time."
     "That I remember. Right in my face." Mitchell yawned.
     "Well, if you folks are ready to get back to the base, let's get you loaded on the helicopter."
     "Sounds good to me. I could use a bath and a shave."
     "I want to get back and look at a TV." remarked Julius.
     "Whatever for?" asked Connie.
     "I want to make sure that there aren't more than one of them."
     "Perish the thought." Connie shivered.

     Connie slept in Mitchell's hospital room. Too many of the nurses were making eyes at him and calling him the good doc for her comfort. Nobody would buck the good doc's Connie. That suited her well.
     Mitchell slept long hours for three days. This was primarily due to the fact that he was near exhaustion from his ordeals, and there were also the lingering effects from viewing the TV. Connie fed him bits of news about the condition of the world outside the base.
     Once the bogus TV shows had stopped, there was nothing to be seen.
     Most of the stations were shut down or blown up by the street fighters. Most of the programming was network or local news, showing the vast extent of the damage world wide. Without the influence from the alien TV, people were beginning to quietly drop their belligerence and find themselves reverting back to near normal. With all of the damage, nothing was truly normal.
     But communities once again joined together and began to rebuild from the chaos, displaying the true inner spirit of mankind which the alien had suppressed but not killed. Many suffered from physical ailments from the mania, but more were suffering emotionally over the deeds that they had not thought themselves capable of doing. But the pieces were being put back together. Electrical power, telephones, and other services would be a long time in being restored fully.
     Another problem was figuring who had survived and who had died. Many were without some of their relatives and friends, left wondering their fate. It was not an easy time for anyone. But the one story that General Jiars was sure to see explained was the true story in full account of how Dr. Mitchell Harrison had defeated the menace from space. His name was changed from the good doc to Good Doctor Harrison, Ph.D.
     Julius was a frequent visitor in his room, knowing well how to keep Mitchell with a positive attitude, feeding him problems that needed solving. At first, Connie was against stressing Mitchell more than needed, but Julius explained to her how it was better to keep his mind busy, and not let him rethink the past. He knew that Mitchell was much better off looking to the future. After that, she quit her fussing over him and started becoming his loyal assistant again.
     In all, they had a week to recuperate before the next interruption of the air waves.

     The first broadcast showed Mitchell in his now familiar lab coat. "Ha, ha. Fooled you, world. But nothing can beat the man of science, unless it's Connie, the woman of science. She can beat me real good. I mean real good. Eat your hearts out, ladies."
     Mitchell and Connie were sitting together in the hospital room. Their spirits, which were on the mend, sank like a rock.
     "I gave your countries one chance to use your atomic bombs. Let's see what you do with a second. Ta ta. Bend over for the folks, Connie. Let's show them what hot really is."
     Mitchell seethed and was quickly out of bed and getting dressed. The general was there in the hall as he and Connie were leaving it. "To the directional receivers, General. No time to waste. Seems Julius was right about there being more than one of these things. We've got to find it and destroy it immediately."
     "This way, Dr. Harrison, Miss Roberts."

     "Still no signal, Mitch."
     The TV flashed on the title Bonzo Goes Buggers. "There must be a signal."
     "Want to check it yourself again?"
     "Julius, I'm not saying that you're incompetent. I'm just saying that there has to be a signal. You can't broadcast a television image without a signal. What I'm suggesting is that we are not looking in the right direction."
     "Where else is there except all around?"
     "How about up?"
     "Flying overhead? The first couldn't do that."
     "How about in orbit?"
     "But the ionosphere."
     "So it's more powerful. How did that one TV reach the entire world anyway? Television stations can't do that."
     "Yes. You're right. We need to alter the mount."
     "Mount the antenna inside the big scope at the observatory. But before we go there, let's stay with it. If it's a moving orbit, then we should get a signal within a few hours somewhere to the east as it nears the horizon."
     "Yes, and if it doesn't show, it's in geosynchronous orbit."
     "Exactly."
     "You take Connie and Claire and Henry and go to the observatory. You can start on the mount. And Mitch, try not to scratch the mirror."
     "Me, Mitchell, scratch a mirror? Surely you jest, Julius."
     "Just making sure that you didn't pick up any bad habits while you were the good doc."
     "Not likely."

     "Henry, I want a dual-polar antenna at the base of the scope on a rotating track. Like cross hairs in a circle, mounted on sliding grips so that we can rotate it ninety degrees. This will allow us to catch the signal that comes down the tube, compare amplitude of signals to check the polarization angle, and use the optical qualities of the scope as well to photograph whatever is up there. The antenna has to be blacked metal. Use carbon suet so that it doesn't insulate the metal from the radio waves."
     "We can do that pretty quickly."
     "Then let's do it quickly."
     Henry and Mitchell started to work in the shop while Claire and Connie straightened up the rest of the observatory, being a bit disordered by the explosion that killed Freidrickson. Inside of two hours, assembly started inside the telescope tube.
     The work was completed and tested by sundown, just as a helicopter arrived. Julius was carried in. "We've spotted it. Set the scope for a two point two hours right ascension, plus sixteen degrees declination, clock speed at fifteen degrees per hours to the east. If we get nothing in five hours, we'll know that the orbit is not lateral to the equator."
     "Have you given much thought in how we're going to stop this once we find it?"
     "Orbital fusion warhead."
     "What if we miss?"
     "Mitchell, we'll just have to be right."
     "So nothing to do but wait."
     Connie called out, "We're getting a signal."

     "Eight satellites in two orbits. Four at ninety degrees in each, offset by forty five degrees at intersection of orbits."
     "So it seems. Now what, eight rockets and eight warheads?"
     "No, Mitch. Too much danger. One we could try. Eight is out of the question."
     "I'm glad to hear you say it, Julius."
     "Do you have any ideas?"
     "It should be with something to do with the way that they work. Why was there a unit here on the surface broadcasting when they could have done it from up there in orbit? Why did it start out slow and build in the beginning? The broadcasts were world wide. Many places on Earth don't have television yet. The TV came here, yet all the radios around the world were affected, each area using different frequencies. How did the TV jump around so quickly? Why did they wait a week to come back on? How did the TV get power? Why did it come after me? The answer lies somewhere in these questions."
     "Maybe you are right."
     "We'll start with the records we have on hand, like the broadband transmissions. We should see if those satellites are broadcasting the same frequencies. We also need the same reading from around the world, where the frequencies are different. Also reports of the different shows that appeared in other countries."
     "Sounds like we need the general on this. Let's make a list and give him a call to pay us a visit."
     "Right, Julius. Everybody start writing down questions that you think need asking. Things like successful jamming attempts, individuals targeted in different places, things like that. Let's get busy."

     The channels of command were still working enough to get results from many of the scientific foundations throughout the world. Data accumulated during the first phase was compiled, and tests were run for the second.
     Mitchell, Julius, Connie, Claire, and Henry returned to the base since it offered better facilities and communication for the problem at hand, now that the orbits were known to be stable.
     Information poured in. It was compiled and compared on the univac. Mitchell, Julius, and Connie poured over the material, looking for clues. They worked long hours, often seemingly for no use, since nothing was yet becoming apparent toward a solution. The effects were there plain to see, but causes remained unknowable, and the bridge between them was less than tenuous. Much of their technology was unknown to human science.
     Tempers because short fused. They read, researched, inquired, copied, discussed, calculated, and revised for every waking minute, eating only when Claire put sandwiches in their hands. Heads were swimming each evening as they fell asleep in mental fatigue.
     The days rolled on, the air waves once again provoking social unrest. War in the streets was returning, though not as quickly as before. People had become somewhat immunized with the week of recovery, but they were also less capable of withstanding unrest. Rivalries were more individualistic and less gang oriented. Again they felt the frustration of falling behind the onslaught.
     The military had taken the free week to gather teams to investigate, and they were put to work trying different ideas that were approved by Julius or Mitchell. Work proceeded at the fastest rate possible, but still nothing came of it in the way toward solution. It did not help morale.

     The good doc punched Superman in the nose and threw him off the planet with a flick of the fingers. Hercules fell in agony to the doc's pinkie hold. "Somebody please send me some competition. I'm tired of fighting sissies." He punched Casper the Friendly Ghost, his fist passing through, Casper evaporating in horror. He squashed Chip and Dale with his foot. "Nobody is tough any more. I'm the only one with any might anymore." He picked up King Kong by the foot and threw him in the ocean. Godzilla ran in fear of him.
     Mitchell turned off the set, then turned it back on. He was insulted by the image, but he was looking for clues. He swallowed his pride and watched. "Yes, I'm the whole world's toughest man. I shoot televisions for a living. On land, sea, and air, I am master of the air waves. People do what I tell them to do, cause I'm the king of science. There is nothing I can't do with science. I rule, I'm cool, cause I have brains to back up my body. And everybody knows that the brain rules the body. No brain, hang it up. You ain't got nothing. So think for a change. This the good doc telling you to think real good."
     The scene changed to Bizzo the Clown, no fight left in him. "Yes, give it all to the brain, the mighty ruler. . . ."
     Mitchell turned off the set. "Ruler."
     "What?" asked Connie.
     "Ruler."
     "Which ruler? Aren't many still in power."
     "No, ruler, as in foot and inches. Wavelength and frequency. Physics is the study of measurement, not the study of energy, as most people believe. It's just that energy what is most often measured with technology. With distance, you use a ruler."
     "So?"
     "Let's look at the transmission pattern again. Wide band. Old and new. Something has to be going on up there that we didn't see going on down here."
     "Why do you say that?"
     "The earthbound TV had no orders to give, being dead, orders that must be occurring upstairs. They have to communicate between themselves. We need to isolate that frequency, then demodulate it and record it and decipher it. Then maybe we can cross up the communication up there and cause them so much trouble that they can't operate, maybe worse."
     "Brilliant idea, Mitch. We'll get people on it right away. Claire, could you find the general? You have such a way with the troops."

     There was a war on TV between the Warner Brother cartoon characters and those from Disney, battling for air supremacy of the tube. Pluto was chewing on the carcass of Bugs Bunny while Foghorn Leghorn was barbequing Minnie Mouse. Goofy was charging and stepped on a mine and vanished in a red mist. Sylvester was shot while parachuting behind Disney lines.
     "There." said Mitchell.
     "That tiny blip?"
     "Yes, Julius. An order doesn't take long. That's why we never paid any attention to it. Takes less than a second to execute. Like it could be digital."
     "Yes, now that you mention it. Digital would be the best way with all that r.f. power. Analog would run the risk of bleed over from the r.f. getting into the i.f. decode stage, throwing off accuracy. So we build a receiver and run it into Univac for analysis. It's not going to be easy to build."
     "It's got to be done. Look, there it goes again."
     The television went to a commercial for napalm.

     People all across the world were working in centers trying to decipher the signals in those bands. They had to watch the different television shows from each location as well as listen to each radio broadcast, keeping a very tight time table in their descriptions while the tiny band was monitored for every sign of activity.
     The data world wide was transmitted by telephone to the United States where it was compiled and correlated and compared. It took time, but commands were finally being identified and listed. Others were noted and not understood. This is where Mitchell, Julius, and Connie concentrated their effort after designing a radio transmitter that would transmit on this band with enough power to reach orbit at the needed amplitude. Sleep was taken grudgingly, knowing that they were getting somewhere.
     The days passed and the list grew for known commands. But these commands did not include the order to leave Earth orbit or shut off, with the broadcasts now running full time.
     The Air Force electronics lab finished the first transmitter, and it was transported in sections to Brethmore Observatory where it was assembled next to the antenna inside the telescope. The satellite could be tracked with the clock drive and the receiver could verify tracking. Then the receiver would be disconnected and the transmitter used with confidence of accuracy. Assembly took a full two days before Julius was satisfied.
     When the transmitter was first tested, the observatory was packed. The first run was one command, to advance to the next program. The television sets outside the observatory all changed programs when it was activated. A huge roar went up from the visiting dignitaries and military that had flown out for the run. Then to everyone's disappointment, Julius shut the run down.
     It took some time to quieten the indignity that the visitors felt at the shut down. But Julius managed to get others to quieten the crowd and explained that they were not ready to begin their attempts until more was known from watching the air waves more closely.
     To punctuate his statement, the televisions returned to the previous program. "As you can see, we are still on unfamiliar ground. We do not yet know how the satellites will respond to our interference with the air waves. We also need to set up more stations such as this one before we begin the onslaught on all the satellites at once. To tip our hand this early could spell our failure by giving away our element of surprise. But be heartened, for we have found a weakness where we have now proven muscle. So do not be disappointed at our not being hasty. Less than total victory is just not acceptable. Thank you for your presence here today. We are on our way to controlling our own destiny once again. Thank you."
     No one attending was in a hurry to leave, but Julius insisted that the observatory be vacated except for the arranged guard to insure that the set up was not damaged.

     Julius took control of coordinating the assembly and instillation of transmitters across the world, allowing Mitchell and Connie to concentrate on the signal study. Digital experts were brought in to add ideas and study to the growing list of commands.
     Different digital combinations were postulated from the known commands by reactions of the satellites to the structure of the serial binary signal. A list of first shots was compiled.
     Ideas from other study stations were considered, and their ideas were sent out for further reflection. The days went by as the equipment was made and installed and tested off target. Pressure started coming on Mitchell's shoulders to finalize the initial plan of broadcast. As weary as he was of working, he gave his full effort into wrapping up the initial broadcast sequence. Connie helped in whatever way she could.
     Julius had a slight setback with his heart, feeling a sharp attack of angina. He told Mitchell that the show was his and to do his best.

     Everything was ready for the first tests in all the stations around the world. Everything was set to commence at a prearranged time, all stations running the first test sequence at the same time with telephones linking all the sites.
     Everything had been ready for hours and Mitchell was pacing like a nervous cat, waiting for the clock to close on the hour. It moved too slowly for his taste.
     They tracked the last satellite that would pass before the operation started with the next, until it passed out of range. Mitchell had second thoughts, such as what could happen if they failed. He worried about retaliation for trying to tamper. As a second thought, he had each station scan with their broad range receivers during and following their broadcasts. Something was bothering him about the operation that he couldn't track down in his thoughts.
     Nobody bothered Mitchell in this mood. Everyone was unsettled with the outcome so close, yet so much in doubt. No one liked the waiting. As the time came close for commencement, Mitchell's image came on the screen in typical good doc dress.
     "Come on, folks, get in line to be had by science. Let science line you up and science will wear you down to where you want to be. Can't be cool without a brain. Let Connie here show you how it's done. Don't forget to wiggle your cheeks."
     Mitchell shut off the TV and called for everyone's attention. "Abort this run. Send a message down the line that this is a no-go. I repeat, no-go. We have overlooked something critical. Planners, to my office. We need to make modification."
     There was a murmur, but Mitchell walked away to prevent questions from being asked publicly. He was followed by a dozen people into his office.
     "I have had a nagging feeling ever since we got started on this phase, and I just finally realized what it was. The satellites above are remote units, responding to orders from a master unit further out, out of range of anything that we can throw at it. If we manage to disable the satellites, they would probably be reactivated with a new set of instructions in short order, and our hand would be tipped. It's possible that a defense for what we were about to attempt would be put in place so that we could not try it successfully again.
     "So let's go back and think this through with finding the master unit in the operation, if there is one. I know that this is a hunch, but I have been hearing a recurring thing in my character's speeches. Having a brain for science. These overhead do not communicate back and forth in dialog. They communicate to pass on orders. First, we need to scan the areas of the sky that we have not yet searched for this master unit.
     "The easiest way to start would be a wide angle antenna to that band, read simultaneously from different places on the globe. If we get that kind of signal in places but not others, with it falling off at the horizon, we can get a pretty good idea of where to search with tight angle antenna.
     "From there, we'd give study to its language and the response of the satellites. We'd be far better prepared in our knowledge to fight it. I know it's disappointing to stop so close to the operation, but I'd rather be disappointed now than later. Let's get to work."

     The master unit was found on the second day of the search, out of missile range of Earth, and it was found faintly broadcasting on a different frequency than the satellites. It was a lucky set of circumstances that had found it for them. A faulty connection on a tuning capacitor altered the tuning of a search receiver, and they had found it in their arranged scans. The i.f. was measured once the location was checked by other stations and found empty at the expected frequency. But Mitch was insistent about the search, and a broadband sweep found it again.
     Study began, with all the preliminary study on the machine's language, and progress came quickly. With three days of coordinated planning, they were once again ready to begin. Mitchell then commanded that everyone take time to get a well needed rest before beginning. The start was set for ten hours. There were complaints, but everyone slept.
     Mitchell was lying on his cot, trying to turn off his mind. Claire came walking in. "Can't follow your own advice?"
     "Hard to get it shut down when you're pushing this hard."
     "Are you going to ask my sister to marry you if this works?"
     Mitchell blinked half a dozen times in puzzlement. "I haven't given it much thought. Why do you ask?"
     "Well, how else do you take away the reputation of a stud than to get married? It's not like Connie's been waiting for you to ask for nothing."
     "Are you asking in her interest or yours?"
     "Yours, mostly. Not that others wouldn't benefit. I think you've done enough saving the world to justify a vacation for your honeymoon."
     "It will have to wait until this is over before I can think about it. There hasn't been much time for that kind of thinking."
     "I know. But when you leave the base, there will be a lot of guys vying for Connie's attention, just like the girls will flock to you. If you get married, it will give you both an excuse to absolve yourself from all the passes that you'll get."
     "So I should get married for convenience?"
     "I didn't say that. I was just pointing out fringe benefits."
     "You just want to be my sister-in-law."
     "Think about it?"
     "Might cost you."
     "Cost me what?"
     "I'll think about it."
     "You do too much of that." She turned to the door, smiled back at him, and left.
     "You tease!" he called after her.

     Few hands were still when Mitchell gave the command to begin. The sets of commands were sent out in ten second intervals. Eyes stayed sharply on clocks as people called out changes in the picture. For three minutes, nothing happened on the screen, then all sorts of changes occurred several times a minute.
     Mitchell went to the master unit receiver and paid close attention to anything that came from it, his mind racing, nothing forthcoming.
     After seven nerve wracking minutes, the screens went blank with snow. Mitchell called for the instruction series to be halted immediately. There was silence throughout the observatory except for the people on the phone passing on orders.
     Activity came from the master unit after a three minute pause. The broadcasts resumed.
     "Okay. That's the signal we need to jam. Transmitter, we need a strong audio. Can you plug us in?"
     "With what?"
     "Signal generator."
     "Torn apart for parts."
     "Isn't there anything?"
     "I got my record player here." offered Claire.
     "Yeah, fine, for now. Somebody build a signal generator. Get that record player hooked up."
     "The impedance won't match."
     "Parallel with a rheostat to balance. Don't disconnect the speaker. We need to know what we're sending out. Phones, tell the other stations to standby to send out to run commands. . . .where were we?"
     "Stopped at number forty four."
     "Forty through forty four, on my command, same timing."
     The radio men were working quickly with the hasty patch in. It took about three minutes for them to make the connection. "What do want to hear, doc?"
     "Doesn't matter. Get it spinning and ready to play. I want the carrier and the start of the song at the same time. Full transmit power. Next window, somebody."
     "Still in window for satellites, seven minutes twenty seconds."
     "Phones, call for ready, reply."
     The phone operators started calling off station numbers. When the last was called, he called out, "Data sequence, begin."
     They waited forty five seconds, then the TV went to snow again.
     "Cut sequence! Let's have some quiet, please. Master unit receiver, full gain."
     There was a tense silence among the people in the crowd. Again, there was a several minute wait before the carrier appeared. "Jam carrier, music!" Chuck Berry's "Roll Over Beethoven" came out of the speaker, and eyes went to the TV. One man counted off the seconds noted from the last restart of the satellites. When he reached nineteen, he called, "Time!" then started counting again, this time upwards.
     He reached sixty with snow still showing on the TV, the song halfway through. He went over to the record player as the song drew to a close and quickly reset the needle at the start. "Where is that signal generator?"
     Claire came up to him and offered, "I'll change it when it needs it."
     "Okay. Do your part."
     "I don't want my record scratched."
     "Oh."
     She smiled at him and bumped his hip. "Loosen up, Mitchell. So far, so good."
     "I don't buy that from this creature. I made that mistake too many times already."
     As time went on, snow still ruled the televisions. Phone calls sent out word to the networks to get back on the air. A cheer went up fifteen minutes later when the television started again having normal broadcasts. Mitchell was repeatedly slapped on the back and congratulated, and someone opened a smuggled bottle of champagne and poured it into many paper cups. Mitchell was asked for a toast.
     "Now before you go and call me something dumb, like a hero, let me remind you that I didn't do it alone. Every person who contributed to the effort of defeating this menace deserves an equal share of the credit. So when you hear on the news about how I did all of this, just remember that each of you gets a share of that recognition in the way I feel. Just remember that the news can't deal with more than four names at a time or they get dizzy."
     "You tell 'em, good doc."
     "Please, don't ever let me hear that name again. Call me Mitch, or Dr. Harrison if you must be formal. No more good doc stuff. That is not the way I want people to remember me."
     There was a laugh and applause.
     "And now for the toast. The air waves are our own."
     "To the air waves!" came a resounding roar, and the champagne was consumed. Just as the drinks were gone, a call came out, "Signal generator ready."
     "Then get it hooked up without interruption."
     Connie came up to him. "How about a little sunshine?"
     "I'd love it. Been spending too many hours in the lab."
     "You filled your quota and then some."
     "Let me pass the reigns. General Jiars?"
     "Yes, Dr. Harrison? Splendid show. Wonderful job."
     "Would you be so kind as to appoint someone to take the reigns? I think everyone knows their part. We've had enough drills."
     "Dr. Harrison, you rate a nice long vacation, unless something drastic happens. The Air Force will handle it from here, if you don't mind our extended presence here in your facility."
     "You are most welcome to stay as long as you feel the need. Just try to keep the damage down to make cleanup easier for us. I'll be at my house or somewhere close by, unless I leave word first."
     "Go take a rest. No one deserves it more than you."
     "Thank you, General. It was nice being on the same side."
     "Sorry about what happened in the beginning."
     "Well, like you said, chain of command. No hard feelings."
     "Thanks, Dr. Harrison. To a job well done."
     "Thanks for the support. One favor, though."
     "Name it. Jet transportation?"
     "No. Just make sure than when my name is discussed with the media, make sure my part doesn't get overblown. I've had more than my fair share of exposure."
     The general nodded, then roared with laughter after a few moments. "Right, exposure. That's a good one, doc."
     "Thank you, General."
     Connie tugged on his arm and led him out the door. A standing ovation followed them until they were well out of the parking lot.

     Mitch lay in the hammock in his back yard which he had just finished mowing, with some effort due to the neglect during the crisis.
     The televisions had been taken over a number of times after he left, but the stations were ready and had the air waves back to normal within minutes of the first sign of interruption. Then the Air Force found a radar that managed to track it, and the air waves stayed free of interruption after that.
     Connie came out the back door with a tray holding a pitcher of ice tea, glasses, a lemon, a knife, and a sugar bowl. She set them on the outdoor table and stood next to the hammock. "Thirsty?"
     "I could use a drink of something cold." He started to rise to pour a glass of tea. Connie settled him back down into the hammock.
     "Oh, no. You just lie back and relax. You've done a lot for mankind. It's time you let mankind start doing something for you."
     "Have you been talking to Claire?"
     "Sure, every day, as a rule."
     "That's not what I meant."
     "What did you mean?"
     "Well, you're acting more like a wife to me than my assistant."
     "Claire has been talking to you about you and me getting married? Why that little snip!"
     "Now, now, take it easy. 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.'"
     "Well, she has no right."
     "For spoiling your chances?"
     "Spoiling my chances? What are you talking about?"
     "Don't tell me that the thought never crossed your mind."
     "Are you proposing?"
     "Let's not rush things. Perhaps, but not yet."
     "Thanks a lot, doctor."
     "You know me. Research first."
     "Are you tired of my being your assistant?"
     "No, not at all. But you and I have been through a lot together this last month. We're famous, or infamous, now. We're seen as something of a pair. Wait, I didn't enjoy it any more than you did. But it has had an effect on people and the way they treat us. And it's made me look at you in a different light. It's made me realize just how special you are to me. I worried about you a lot, and if my sources are correct, you worried about me, too. We came to see each other a bit differently. We both certainly stepped out of what is normal for us, and that revealed something of each other that we don't normally see."
     "Okay."
     "I have to admit that I found myself enjoying being a bandit at times. Not most of the time, mind you, but on a few occasions, it made me feel like a big man."
     "You were a big man."
     "Yeah, but being and letting yourself feel what is beyond proper are two different things. And there were a few times when I sat watching our characterizations participating in filth that my mind did wonder about what it might be like being married to you."
     "Why you dirty old man."
     "I'm not that old."
     "Why you dirty young man." She smiled bashfully.
     "You, too?"
     "Mitchell Harrison, you just don't leave a girl her pride."
     "I mean, it's not like we don't know each other well. We've worked together for years, spent many a night looking at the stars together."
     "You're stretching it, Mitch."
     "Perhaps, but we're not strangers to each other."
     "No, point granted."
     "You're making this hard on me."
     "You haven't asked yet."
     "So you are plotting."
     "If you expect me to admit that, you don't know me as well as you think you do."
     "Just seeing how far I could push."
     "Well, now you know."
     "Did I hear an offer of ice tea, or must I die of thirst being denied self-service?"
     Connie went to the table and fixed him a glass. She fixed it the way he liked it and brought it to him. He took his time drinking, and she waited him out silently.
     "Okay, so what do you think of the idea?"
     "Are you proposing yet?"
     "Like a horse in the gate."
     She stuck out her tongue at him. He pulled out a small box from his pants pocket and opened it, revealing a diamond engagement ring. "Do I need to get on my knees?"
     "That would be nice."
     "Won't let me get my own tea, but I have to get up for this."
     "Mitch! "
     He chuckled and smiled at her.
     "You better smile. You're giving me doubts, you know."
     "Big doubts?"
     "Don't put me on the spot when you're the one being grilled. You have learned some mighty bad habits in this last month."
     "Perhaps I have." He got off the hammock and knelt before her.
     "Well?"
     "I haven't rehearsed, so give me a little leniency for spontaneity. You'd never let me live this down if I messed this up."
     "You're doing a great job of that already."
     "A matter of opinion."
     "Whose opinion? The good doc's?"
     "Low blow, Connie. Now, for a long time we've worked together on mentally demanding projects, and we have done quite well. While we remained in a proper working relationship, there have been times where the feeling showed through, despite our effort to keep them hidden. And with the trying and emotional times of this last month, they have been even more noticeable. I've found myself realizing what a true treasure you are to me, after having come into danger where the relationship was threatened from the outside.
     "Things have disrupted what has for so long been the normal for us, and it has moved us into a position where we can not truly return to that again. The feelings have been too strong to ignore as we have in the past. So in looking for a way that will better fit what exists between us, Connie Roberts, I am asking you to be my wife. Will you marry me?"
     "Do you love me?"
     "I love you very much."
     "Then why haven't you said so before now?"
     "I did not wish to seem improper."
     "Unh huh, I see. Is that the only reason?"
     "What other could there be?"
     "That you don't really love me."
     "That is not the case, as you well know."
     "At times I wondered. At times it did not seem to be just propriety that kept your lips sealed."
     "I was just absorbed in other things."
     "Like you plan on being after we marry?"
     Mitchell sighed, "If you want me to give up my work for you, I shall."
     "And have you blaming me in the future for wrecking your career? Do I appear to you as some kind of fool?"
     "If you feel that my attention toward you is inadequate. . . ."
     "Up on your feet and hug me."
     "A test?"
     "One you fail if you don't hurry." He got up on his feet, and she grabbed him and spun him onto the hammock with her falling weight. "You silly thing, of course I'll marry you."
     "Whew. For a minute there, I was beginning to change my mind."
     Connie laughed and kissed him.

     The engagement made worldwide news. The Good Doctor and Connie were getting married. Mitchell sat watching the TV as Claire came in and started smiling ear to ear. Mitchell grumphed. "You think you did something big, huh? Don't overestimate your influence, you little twit."
     "I'm just happy."
     "No fooling. I bet you're even glad about it being all over the TV, along with all the other overblown stories about me."
     "The stories aren't overblown. You're just being shy."
     "I am not shy, young lady. Reserved, perhaps, but not shy."
     "Right." She smiled in mock understanding.
     "You women have no sympathy."
     "Where would you men cause your next trouble if we did?"
     "We'd be content."
     "Can't have that. The devil's playground."
     "Are you sure you're not eighty years old instead of eighteen?"
     Claire kissed him on the cheek. "Ever see an eighty year old woman in my shape?"
     "There's always a first time."
     "And the moon is made of cheese."
     "How did you find that out? No one is supposed to know."
     Claire laughed. "Brother-in-law. What a tear."
     "Sister-in-law. What a pain."
     "You love me, and you know it."
     "Well, I'm glad somebody told me."
     "You have changed, you know that? I like it even better. There is a bit of the good doc in you. That TV wasn't totally wrong about you."
     "I never said it was stupid. In fact, underneath all the blatant bad taste, it had some pretty sophisticated ideas. They were just all warped. Its methods were quite effective toward the end. The TV that came down was the eyes and ears of the master unit to learn of our ways beyond the TV signals it picked up from space. It made amazingly accurate assessments of our inner selves where logic does not touch."
     "So you really are the good doc?"
     "Hardly. It showed some of my inner feelings, but grossly and greatly exaggerated. But it is only a very tiny part of me that it showed. I am indeed a member of the animal kingdom, but I am also a sentient being. It left out that which gives us grace."
     "Why?"
     "I guess we'll never know. It was obviously out to disrupt our way of life, having succeeded so well. But if it was a prank, or a grudge, or a mission for others, we may never know. The universe is a big place, and we know so little about what is beyond our own immediate neighborhood. Pray that we never find out."
     "Do you think that it will be back?"
     "Who can say what the future holds? But mankind passed its test for now. Last report I heard, it's headed out of the solar system, destroying the satellites as it left Earth orbit. That doesn't indicate an intent to return any time soon."
     "What gets me is that some of the people I know miss it. Can you beat that? What can they be thinking?"
     "Oh, just a sign that we are not all we wish to be. Many of us go on in life never feeling everything that goes on inside us. We hide behind what is expected of us by others, and we hide away what is not admired by others. We live in fear of being different, rejected. That thing made us realize that there is more to us than we care to admit openly in the name of morality and good taste."
     "Well, I could live without seeing it again."
     "Yes. Once was enough, I hope. Maybe it was enough to shake us out of our set ways, for the better in the long run. We came very close to global nuclear war, as I have been told by the military. We are fortunate to still be here. Maybe that will make us think more and react as expected less. Mankind is still not yet perfect."
     "Think we ever will be?"
     "Hard to say. We have to survive long enough first."
     "So have you and Connie set a date?"
     "Not yet. She's still trying to contact some of your family to plan attendance at the wedding. It hasn't been easy with the phones as messed up as they are, not knowing where everyone is at the moment."
     Connie came walking into the room. "Are you two plotting something?"
     "Absolutely." responded Claire. She left the room with a smile.
     "So, what were you two plotting?"
     "Nothing."
     "Nothing from absolutely? That's a trick I'd like to see."
     "She was teasing, trying to get you after me."
     "Humph. That girl is getting too big for her britches."
     "Runs in the family."
     "What?"
     "Spunk."
     "Me, spunky?"
     "Sure. Look at what you made me go through proposing."
     "I had ample cause."
     "So does Claire, any time she sees justification, just like you."
     "I am going to have to reteach you some manners."
     "Then you better hurry up and set a date before I get wise and bolt."
     "You're not going anywhere, wise or not."
     "Think not?"
     "I think not."
     "And how long have you been plagued with a lack of cogitation?"
     "Oh, you! I'll lack of cogitation you."
     "Think so?"
     "I think so."
     "Then you better hurry up and set a date."
     "So you can let loose and be the good doc?"
     "Now would I do a thing like that?"
     "You'd better."
     "Oh, where did I go wrong?"
     "Shut up and kiss me."
     "Who are you asking? Me or the good doc?"
     "Here's a hint."

     Henry sat watching the resumed programming on the television in the otherwise vacated observatory. "Boy, is this boring. You'd think that they'd have learned something from all this."