"About what?"
"That this is Wisconsin."
"Yes; it certainly is."
"Well, what day is it and time?"
"Wednesday, February 14th, 1968 and--and precisely 8:25 a.m."
She was silent for a moment, letting the parka fall away from her
lovely face; then she said, "But it was only a few moments ago,
considering the difference in time zones, that I was at Cape Canaveral.
They were activating HOAGS today and I was there with Dad. How--how
could I possibly be in Wisconsin now?"
"That," I said, "_is_ the question. With a capital Q. How could you
possibly--"
I stopped in shock. Those dark eyes had been looking directly at
me--and the image of them was planted on my retinal patterns like
a commercial symbol lingering on a stereo tube--but she, eyes and
all--and I do mean _all_--was _gone_.
Just like that. Blinko. Not over and out. Just out.
* * * * *
I know I acted irrationally then. I scurried around the quickly warming
room, searching behind the proton beam accelerator, the control and
monitor consoles, the relay racks and equipment cabinets, feeling that
she just had to be somewhere!
The door opened. I whirled around expectantly. It wasn't she; it was
George Herrmann, my assistant.
George regarded me searchingly, his lean face lugubrious.
"What gives, Bob?" he asked. "You look as if you'd lost the world!"
"Maybe I have," I said, leaping to the visifone.
George watched me button Miami Exchange and said, "You realize what
Jack Hagen thinks about long distance calls!"
I ignored him. I realized all right. Hagen's project boss and has laid
the law down plenty on the question of what he considers unnecessary
calls--but how can a scientist operate if he can't call up others in
his specialty when he gets the glimmerings of a new idea?
Miami answered and I asked for General Schoener at Patrick Air Force
Base. Priority. I've top secret clearance and I put my marked I.D.
card on the pick-up, too.
Abruptly a brush-mustached frozen military face regarded me. "So you're
Robert Mitchell of UNACMEA/WAGS," the face growled. "Well, make it
short."
"It's about your daughter, General," I said.
The face became human.
"But what can _you_ know about Elaine? You're in Wisconsin, aren't
you?" And, at my nod, "Well, she vanished from here when we activated
HOAGS. Don't--don't tell me--"
"Yes, she was _here_," I said. "Just a few minutes ago. Said that HOAGS
exploded."
His twitching brows drew down. "It didn't explode. There was a defect
in the ring and particles of anti-matter we haven't yet named escaped.
That was just before we missed Elaine! Now, Mitchell, are you sure she
was there? Can you describe her?"
I felt that my descriptive detail was rather good, coming as it did
from a confirmed bachelor whose attention had theretofore been devoted
to scientific tomes and atom-smashers.