"Send," he said. I flipped the switch up and he lay there concentrating.
"Receive," he said, his face taking on a _listening_ expression.
"Tighten the chin strap, please," he asked. I did it.
"Send." More concentration.
"Receive."
A fatuous grin lifted across his face.
"It's Polly," he whispered.
That made me uneasy. I thought it was just another delusion. I'd tried
the Hustic once and it hadn't worked at all.
"See," I said. "There aren't any Martians in there. They aren't making
war on Earth."
"Stop interrupting," he snapped.
How much of what happened next was his own idea and how much he got
from Polly I still don't know. For minutes at a time he'd _think_ into
the machine. Then I'd switch over and he'd lie there and grin. Finally
he lay there _listening_ so long and so quietly I thought he'd gone to
sleep. I began to relax.
Then Mike screamed and I came out of my chair like a shot.
"Take it off! Take it off!" he shouted. "The Martians are after me!" He
shook his head but the helmet stayed on, held by the chin strap.