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."