3. Sdrawkcab Gnis Ro

"What else could he be?" He lay in bed, arms crossed behind his head.

Kilroy stood beside the bed, his chin resting on the mattress, his tail wagging like a demented metronome.

"A nut." Rocky grimaced as she yanked the brush through a tangle. She was wearing nothing but panty-hose. "I told you that yesterday."

"People don't go nuts that way."

"They go nuts in every way that you could possibly think of. And they keep thinking up new ones."

He shook his head vigorously. "Come on. You didn't see the guy. He looked utterly rational."

"He did?"

"You know what I mean. He wasn't drooling. His eyes weren't rolling." He showed her what he meant and was rewarded by a flickering smile. "Of course, he wasn't looking at..."

She threw the hairbrush at him.

He threw it back, rolled out of the bed, thumped Kilroy on the shoulders, and pushed the dog out of the way. "Pretty soon, boy. Give me a minute. Maybe I'll even take you with me today."

"There's scarcely enough room in that office for you."

He was rummaging in a drawer for socks and underwear. "We'll manage."

"And what're you going to do about this s.p.a.ce alien of yours?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Keep my eyes open, I suppose."

"And if you see him?"

"Ask, maybe?"

She snorted and pulled a blouse over her head.

When they reached the office, Kilroy flopped on the throw rug with a heavy sigh. Mickey hung up his jacket, turned on his computer, called up the proposal he was supposed to be working on, and stared at the screen. He typed a few lines. Then he sighed as gustily as his dog.

"It's s.h.i.t," he said. "All s.h.i.t. Isn't it, Kilroy?"

The dog's tail thumped the floor.

"I'm glad you agree." He got out of his chair and leaned over the laser printer. The window was as dirty as ever, the street as crowded.

Could there possibly be real, genuine s.p.a.ce aliens at large among Earth's natives? He had wished there could for as long as he had known anyone had ever thought of the possibility. He had searched for them all his working life. He had never found them. Not even one.

Neither had anyone else.

And as for s.p.a.ce aliens out there in s.p.a.ce... He thought they had to be there, somewhere. But all the astronomers with their SETI radio antennae and cartoony s.p.a.ce probe messages had found no sign of them either.

Could the barking man really be what he yearned for? If so, where did he come from? Why was he here? Were there more like him in the city or on Earth?

He ached to know the truth.

But there was no barking executive today. No double-parked flying saucers.

Just a squad car by the hydrant across the street. Two cops getting out.

Two minutes later, Mickey opened his office door to find two dark blue uniforms blocking the opening. Large "I {Heart} My Job" b.u.t.tons covered all but the edges of the name tags above their left breast pockets.

"Michael Gorgonzola?" asked the fat one. He stepped forward just enough to force Mickey a step backwards, and the tiny office felt jammed as full of flesh as a knackwurst. "The writer?" He sounded skeptical.

"Mickey."

Kilroy growled.

Mickey said, "Down, Kilroy," and the dog retreated to hide under the desk.

He did not stop growling.

The thin cop stepped up beside his partner, showed his teeth, and touched the brim of his cap. "I read wunna yer books once."

"Shut up, Custer," said the other cop.

"Right, Abe." Custer's lips compressed into a thin line so wide his cheeks bulged.

After a portentous pause, the fat cop extended a finger, studied it, and finally pointed it at Mickey. "You're not in trouble."

"Yet," said Custer.

"Shaddap," said Abe.

"Right, Abe."

Kilroy growled louder.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Mickey.

"You're not in trouble yet," said Abe once more. "But you're getting close.

We're here to tell you to lay off."

"Off what?" Mickey gestured toward the computer screen. The book proposal he had promised Angela was the only thing he was involved in at the moment.

There was nothing else to lay off. "That? It's a friggin' travel book! And I've already done most of the research!"

Abe shook his head. "Just lay off."

"Is it the Komi region? The museum?" He stopped. Was something special going on there? "Just who are you guys anyway?"

"Just lay off," said the fat cop.