"Yeah, I remember him. Tell me, how would Stuffy know if it was dead or not?"

"It was cold," she said. "No longer warm, but cold. And it wasn't floating. It was resting on the ground."

"And now they're going to rush in and dissect it to find how it works."

"I suppose that's the idea," Kathy said. "It has a gruesome sound to me."

"To me, too, but it's logical."

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know. A day or two, I think. I will see you then."

"I was counting on seeing you tonight."

"So was I. Jerry, I'm awfully sorry. And so disappointed."

"Oh, well, you have a job to do. So have I-the thesis. I'll get some work done on it."

"And, Jerry, something else. Old 101 has been found."

"Yes, don't you remember? I told you. How one of the men from Washington painted a green 101 on that first visitor to land."

"Yes, you did tell me. So it has been found. Where is it?"

"On a farm near a little place in Iowa. Davis Corners. The farmer thinks it planted something in the field and now is guarding it. When he approaches the field, it runs him off."

"V/hat could it have planted?"

"Maybe nothing. That's only what the farmer thinks. Johnny was going to send me down there, then this Lone Pine business came up.

"Why should he have sent you down there? V/hat could you have done?"

"It was just one of Johnny's hunches. He operates by hunch, runs the city desk by hunch. Some of the hunches are good, some of them pay off. Some people might call it a newspaperman's intuition. Actually, it's hunch. Now I have to go. The plane is waiting and Chet is standing here, first on one foot and then the other."

"I'll miss you, Kathy."

"So will I miss you. Get lots of work done while I'm gone."

"I'll try. Thanks for calling, Kathy."

lie hung up the phone and sat idly at the desk. The room Closed in on him again. He saw the grimy windows and the streaks upon the wall.

Old 101, he thought. Somewhere down in Iowa, guarding a field. And why should it be in Iowa? There were no trees in Iowa, or at the best, few trees. Nothing like the trees in Minnesota. The farmer thought it had planted or sowed his field. And what could it have planted? He shook his head, puzzled. The farmer, he told himself, must be mistaken.

He got up from the desk and walked up and down the room, remembering again, with a sharpness that terrified him, those few hours (or few minutes?) he had spent inside the thing that was 101. He saw the luminous discs again, the pale blueness of the light, the strange flickerings. There had been something there, he thought, that he should have understood, some fact or facts that, had he stayed a little longer, he might have been able to perceive.

If he could have stayed a little longer, if he could talk with it again-and stopped himself, damning himself for a fool. For he had never talked with it, never really talked with it. From it he had done no more than gain impressions, the sense of home and the sense of trees. And those impressions, he told himself, bitterly, might not have come from 101 at all. They might have come from some unexpected aberrations in his mind.

He went back to his desk and sat down again, pulling the papers in front of him, picking up his pen. But he could not work. The writing that he'd done no longer was writing, but strange, alien squiggles. He stared at the squiggles, trying to make them out, startled by his not being able to make them out, angry and confused, his mind churning.

Maybe, he told himself, the answer might be there, down on that farm in Iowa. And that, he thought, was sheer insanity. He could go to Iowa, out to the farm, and 101 would chase him off, even as it had chased the farmer. He was dealing in a fantasy and knew it, but knowing it did no good. The fantasy still hung on. The impulse became a certainty-he had to go to Iowa. Although what he'd do once he got there, he had no idea.

He rose from the desk and paced up and down the room, fighting it out with himself. One idea hammered at him, zeroing in on him. He needed an answer and this was the only way that he could think of that might provide an answer. It might turn out to be nothing, but he couldn't pass it up. He had to take a chance. He had to play his hunch. Johnny Garrison was a hunch player, Kathy had said, and at times, his hunches did pay off.

He fought it out half the afternoon and it would not go away. He had to go to Iowa. He had to go to Iowa and he didn't even have a car. But Charlie would let him use his car. If he asked, Charlie would loan the car to him.

Limp and sweating, he lifted the phone and dialed Charlie's number.

34. LONE PINE.

Looking through binoculars, Kathy could see, across the river, the knot of men who were at work on the dead visitor. There was no way she could make out what they were doing. The only thing she could determine was that in some manner (using saws, she wondered?), they had cut sections out of the dead body, probably securing samples to be taken back to Washington, or perhaps elsewhere, for closer examination. They were busy with a number of pieces of equipment, but the distance was too great to make certain what they were doing. There had been no chance to talk with anyone who might answer her questions. Security was tight. The bridge the army engineers had thrown across the river was closed by National guardsmen and other guardsmen patrolled the river bank to stop anyone who might try to cross.

The other visitors paid no attention to what was going on around the dead body of their fellow. They continued cutting timber and spewing out the bales of cellulose. Some of them were budding and a dozen or so of their young were scurrying about~ chomping at the bales of cellulose.

Kathy lowered the glasses, laid them in her lap.

"Anything to see over there?" asked Norton.

"Nothing I can make out," said Kathy. She handed the glasses to him. "You want to have a try?"

"Even if I saw something, I'd probably not recognize it," said Norton. "I thought maybe they would try to move the dead visitor somewhere. To the university down at Minneapolis, maybe. But I guess it's just too large. That thing must weigh tons."

"Maybe they will later on," said Kathy, "but as I understand it, it was important to get some tissue samples as soon as possible, if what they are getting can be called tissue."

Norton lifted the glasses to his face, stared through them for a long time, then took them down, handing them to Kathy.

"I've never seen such tight security," said Kathy. "Nor set up so fast. Chet and I got here only a few hours after you phoned us, but by that time, they had it buttoned up. Ordinarily, there would be some sort of public relations setup to give you some idea of what might be going on. But here there's nothing. Not even someone around to tell you there'll be no information. We're just locked out."

"Washington probably figures this is important. Top secret."

"Sure they do," said Kathy. "And more than that, they were caught flat-footed and had to move fast. Who would have expected that one of the visitors would die and they'd have a shot at it. When we write about how tight the security is, the government will complain. Claiming we are overemphasizing."

"In a little while," said Norton, "Lone Pine will be swarming with newsmen. Like it was before. Maybe then someone will be able to jar something loose."

"I tried," said Kathy, "but there's no one to jar. Just those silly, flat-faced guardsmen who won't let you through. Most of them won't even talk to you. Not even the officers. Usually officers will talk, at least a little, to show you how important they are, if for no other reason. I tell you, Frank, I don't even know why I'm here. I could just as well have stayed back in the newsroom. Here I'm not doing any good. I don't know what the hell I'll tell Johnny when I phone him. Maybe someone else could have done better. Maybe Jay . .

"I don't see how," said Norton. "As you say, there's no one here to talk to."

"What beats me," said Kathy, "is that there aren't even any rumors. In a tight security situation such as this, there are always rumors. Someone had heard something and is embroidering on it. But here there isn't even that. Stuffy is just as empty as I am. You'd expect that by now Stuffy would have heard something that he could enlarge a bit and pass on. Nor Sally, either. If she'd heard something, I'm sure she'd tell me."

"You got to hang in there," said Norton. "If you hang in long enough .

"Jerry and I were going to have dinner tonight," said Kathy. "Both of us were counting on it. It's been a long time since we've shared a dinner-a sit-down dinner, not just grabbing a hamburger at a fast-food joint. Poor Jerry, he's had a bleak time of it. Six years as a student, living hand to mouth, picking up odd jobs so he can get the little money that he needs, living in a tiny room. I thought we should get married. Then, at least, he'd have a decent place to live, but he would have none of that. He refused to let a woman support him. The man has pride and I respect him for it, but that doesn't keep me from feeling sorry for him, and he'd be sore if he knew I felt sorry for him. So I can't show it. We could have shacked up and that would have made it easier for the two of us, but neither of us wanted that. There's nothing really wrong with it; a lot of people do. But both of us shied away from it. I don't know. It seemed sort of cheap and both of us agreed "It'll work out," said Norton, trying to comfort her. "He's only got a little while before he has his doctorate and then he'll get a job..

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she said. "I shouldn't, but it just came out of me. Frank, why should I be telling this to you?"

"I don't know," said Norton, "but I am glad you could. If it helped you any, I am glad you could."

They sat silent for a time in the autumn afternoon.

Finally, Norton said, "In a day or two, before the end of the week, I'll be taking a few days off. I do it every fall. Usually earlier than this. Thus matter of the visitors makes me late this year. I'll drive up through the wilderness area, a canoe strapped to the top of the ear. I'll park beside a little river that I know and will spend a few days canoeing. A sort of farewell to the autumn wilderness, a few days with it before bad weather closes in. I just paddle along and look, taking it easy, not pushing myself. I won't work at it. Maybe do a little fishing. Mostly looking, though."

"It sounds nice," said Kathy.

"I was thinking. Why don't you phone Jerry and ask him to come up here. Tell Johnny you're taking some vacation. The two of you join me on this little jaunt. You get away from your deadlines, Jerry from his classes. It would do the both of you a world of good."

"I think it would," said Kathy, "but we can't. I used up all my vacation time in June and Jerry's got his thesis."

"I'm sorry," Norton said. "It would have been nice to have had the two of you along."

"I'm sorry, too," said Kathy. "Thanks so much for asking."

35. WASHINGTON, D.C.

The President came into the press office as Porter was preparing to leave. The press secretary rose from his desk, surprised, and said, "You are working late, sir."

"And so are you," said the President. "I saw your light and decided to come in.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Only listen to me," said the President. "I need someone I can sit down with and take off my shoes."

He walked to a sofa against the wall and dropped into it, slouching, stretching out his legs, locking his hands behind his head.

"Dave," he asked, "is all of this really happening or am I having a bad dream?"

"I fear," said Porter, "that it is happening. Although there are times when I ask myself the same question."

"Can you see an end to it? A logical end?"

Porter shook his head. "Not at this point, I can't. But I have a sort of ingrown faith that it will work out. Even the worst situations usually do."

"All day long," said the President, "I have people hammering at me. Things they want me to do. Actions they want me to take. Probably silly things, but to the people who advocate them, I don't suppose they're silly. I have a stack of letters asking me to designate a day of prayer. I have phone calls from men I have always regarded as reasonable suggesting a proclamation calling for a day of prayer. And I'll be goddamned if I'm going to call a day of prayer. Sure, presidents at various times have asked the people to observe a day of prayer, but only on occasions that patently call for prayer, and I don't think this situation does."

"It stems from all the religious fervor this business has stirred UP," said Porter. "When people don't know what else to do, they Suddenly turn to religion, or what for them may pass for religion. It constitutes a mystic retreat into unreality. It is a search for an understanding of forces that are beyond our capability to understand, a seeking for some symbol that will bridge the gap to understanding."

"Yes, I realize all that," said the President, "and, in a way, I can sympathize with it. But to call for prayer right now would overemphasize the problem that we face. What's happening baffles the hell out of me, but I feel no sense of panic. Maybe I'm wrong, Dave. Should I be feeling panic?"

"I don't think so," Porter said. "It's not a matter of panic. What is driving these people to urge a day of prayer is the obsessive urge of the suddenly devout to force everyone else into at least a simulation of their state of mind."

"I've tried over the last hour or so," said the President, "to sit quietly by myself and try, somehow, to get straight in my mind what we are really facing. Thinking, I suppose, that if I could get that straight in my mind, I might just possibly be able to figure what to do. The first thing I told myself was that, as of the moment, we are not facing any threat of violence or coercion. The visitors, as a matter of fact, have been quite well behaved. It looks to me as if they may be making an effort to understand the sort of society we have, although there must be some aspects of it that are hard for them to understand. And if they are doing this, I told myself, then they must intend to operate within the parameters of our society in the best way that they can. I can't be sure of this, of course, but that's the way it looks and I gain some measure of reassurance from it. Of course, at any time at all, something might happen that will change it. The police down in that Alabama town where the visitor sat down in the stadium arrested a bunch of dimwits trying to get into the stadium with a box of dynamite. I suspect they intended to blow up the visitor."

"Even had they succeeded," said Porter, "they probably would have failed. It would take more than a box of dynamite, most likely, to inconvenience one of the visitors."

"What you say is true, Dave, if the data from Whiteside's firing test is accurate and I assume it is. But it would have been a deliberate act of aggression that could change the attitude of the visitors toward us. Until we know a whole lot more than we know now, we can't afford to commit an act of violence, even an unintentional act of violence. I have a feeling that the visitors, if they put their minds to it, could outdo us in violence. I'd not like to come down to a shooting match with them."

"We do need to know a lot more about them," said Porter. "How is Allen making out with the dead visitor? Have you heard anything from him?"

"Only that the investigation is underway. He's doing the preliminary work on the spot. Once that is done, an effort might be made to move the body to some facility where the work can be carried out under more favorable circumstances.~~ "Moving it might be quite a chore."

"I am told there are ways it can be done. I understand Army Corps of Engineers is working on the problem."

"Any indication of why the visitor might have died?"

"It's funny that you should have asked that, Dave. That is one of the first questions that popped into my mind. Seems to me that when something dies, the inclination always is to ask the cause of death. All of us are very much concerned with life and death. H. G. Wells popped into my mind immediately. His Martians died because they were defenseless against the diseases of the Earth. I wondered if some bacterium, some virus, some fungus might have done the visitor in. But the cause of its death apparently was a question that Allen never thought of. At least, he said nothing about it. He was just excited that one of them had been delivered into his hands. There is something about that guy that gives me the cold shivers every now and then. Dammit, there are times when he doesn't seem human. He's too much the scientist. To him the scientists are a brotherhood set apart from the rest of humanity. That attitude bothers us. The chances are that Allen and his men will learn something about the visitor that it might not be wise to advertise. I have tried to impress this on him and I think he understands, but I can't be sure. I know how you feel about this, Dave, but . .

"If there is information that shouldn't be made public in the interest of national security," said Porter, "then I'd go along with holding it back. What I object to is secrecy for the sake of secrecy. I am confident the findings from the dead visitor can be handled. Certainly, there will be something that can be safely announced. If there is enough of that sort of information, the media can be satisfied. Some of them may suspect the full story is not being told, but there's not too much for them to complain about.

What worries me are the people who are doing the investigating. The press could get to some of them."

"I warned Allen on that. He is using only men in his own department-not the people he recruited from outside. He swears that he can trust them. It is unlikely that anyone can get to them, let alone talk to them. We've got a security net around Lone Pine a snake couldn't wriggle through."

The President hoisted himself to his feet and started for the door, then came back and sat down again.

"There's another thing I don't like," he said. "It's that goddamned U.N. There is a push to declare that the visitors are an international, not an internal, matter. You are aware of it, of course.~~ Porter nodded. "I had some rather sharp questions on it at today's briefing. For a while, the boys had me skating on thin ice."

"The resolution is going to be voted," said the President. "Sure as hell it will. There's no way we can stop it. Only half a dozen governments will stand with us. We've twisted all sorts of arms, but there is little we can do. All our little sanctimonious underprivileged brothers that we're breaking our ass to help will vote against us."

"They can pass the resolution. They'll play hell enforcing it."

"Sure, I know that, but we'll get a bloody nose for all the world to see. We'll drop a lot of prestige."

"Maybe it is time to let the prestige go. This is our show. We are the ones who have the visitors on our backs."

"Dave, you may be right. But there are other considerations. State is frantic at the prospect."

"State is always frantic."

"I know. But it's not only State and the U.N. resolution. There are others who are giving us heat. The environmentalists are up in arms because we are doing nothing to protect our wilderness areas against the visitors. The lumber interests are howling to high heaven. The farmers, seeing visitors come down and roost in the middle of their fields, are getting restless. The entire business world is in an uproar. The stock markets are reacting like a yo-yo. At times, I catch myself thinking and I know it's wrong to think it, but I can't help it-why did it have to be us? Why couldn't it have been Europe or South America, or even at times, God help me, the Soviet Union?"

"I can understand how you might feel that way," said Porter. "There is so damn much . .

"If only I could win once in a while," said the President. "If I didn't have to fight so hard for every inch of progress. Take the energy bill. It all makes sense, it is all possible within the state of the art. I could bring in hundreds of top notch engineers who would swear that the plan is practical. A solar energy farm in the deserts of the Southwest, a few more millions to nail down a cryogenic transmission and storage system. Another year is all it would take, the engineers tell me, a few more millions. Enough energy to power the entire country, a transmission system that could distribute or store the energy with virtually no loss of power. But does Congress see it that way? Hell, no, they don't see it that way. Half of them are in the clutches of the big energy corporations, the other half so stupid that it's a wonder they can find their way home when they leave the Capitol . .

"Some day," said Porter. "Some day they'll come around to it. Soon or late, they'll have to see . .