I service several small suburbs in southern Connecticut where the average income is about $150,000 or better. These people call an electrician to replace light bulbs on their verandahs. I charge a fair amount for my services, being now a guild certified Master Electrician myself. Combining my high fees with that yuppie "call the man to do this" attitude, I’ve been able to make just short of a killing consistently for years now. Damn shame so much of it goes to pay off my ex-wife every month. Stupid cow! She could never take care of anything herself. Always had to depend on somebody else for everything, usually me. When I was young that helpless routine seemed endearing. Now I find it repulsive.

Even with that drain by the leach I have a nice house, a BMW, a 35-foot cabin cruiser and a cute little twin engine Beachcraft hangered at the local airfield. Because of my success I have never felt the least bit hesitant about turning down jobs that sounded like a can of worms waiting to tip over. I don’t need the business and sure don’t need the headaches. I’m far from the only electrician in the area and most of them are a lot hungrier than I.

That’s why I turned down the job at the Stevinson house sight unseen. For one thing, the lady who called me didn’t even understand exactly what it was that needed doing. It all sounded a bit too strange, even surreal to me so I just told her to call someone else. I suppose she did because I heard back from her about an hour later when again she asked, this time begged me to come out and take a look at the job. I repeated my reasons for refusing. I said something about being booked through the next week and so on and so on. Actually, this wasn’t exactly a lie. I did have what I considered to be a full docket. I had appointments for afternoon jobs in "Yuppie Kingdom" for the next 11 days and I always like to keep my mornings and evenings free, so outside of that 1 PM to 5 PM band I made no commitments. For one thing, you never know when one of those "simple" rewiring jobs can turn into a major pain in the butt and tie me up for several 12-hour days in a row. I don’t think this fact ever entered my future client’s mind and she started making offers I couldn’t just blow off. For one thing, she agreed to pay triple my normal fee for the rush and also agreed to compensate me double for any other work I was forced to miss on account of the job. At this point I had to at least look at it!

"Boy, is this a mistake!" I started to believe this as soon as I rounded the drive and pulled up in front of the stately home nested in about 30 acres of Connecticut wilderness. I could see the problem from there. It was about 7 PM on that early October evening and it was almost dark, almost that is except for the back yard. It was lit up like the forth of July! The house was silhouetted against an eerie blue-green flickering glow that sometimes erupted into red and yellow flashes. I couldn’t see from there the source of the glow and I was beginning to wish I didn’t have to find out. I got out of my van and stood in the drive staring. I suspected it was a major high voltage arc of some sort, likely a transformer or perhaps even a very large air conditioning system. I wasn’t ready for what I found.

"Are you Mr. Zigfield?"

I heard her, but I wasn’t quite ready to register sound. I was still buzzing with possible explanations for the ungodly light show in the back yard.

"Excuse me," she tried again, "Mr. Zigfield?"

"Yes..." I was still not completely aware of her. Suddenly I glanced off to my left and saw her. Wow, what a beautiful woman! Even in the bluish glow of the arcing, a color not known for suiting the complexion of a lady, she was a living doll. I put her at about 28, 5’6" and maybe all of 110 lbs. She had one of those tiny waists that really gets me going and the face of an angel. Her shoulder length golden brown hair was only a hint of its splendor in this weird light. It wasn’t until later in the normal lights of the house that I came to fully appreciate how lovely her hair and indeed everything about her really was.

I recovered somewhat, approached her and we shook hands. "Walter Zigfield. You must be Karen Stevinson." She returned my handshake with a dignified firmness that was not unladylike yet conveyed a self-assuredness I found very attractive in a woman. I tried to keep my mind in a strictly professional mode in spite what must have been my obvious attraction to her. I gathered it was obvious by the strange, almost acknowledging smile she gave me. She then lost that smile rather quickly as the gravity of the present situation fell back upon her thoughts. She brushed her hair back from where the light autumn breeze had thrown it evocatively over her left eye. No wedding ring, I noticed. I tended to notice things like that being divorced.

"Thank you for coming. I’m afraid you are my last resort. After initially turning me down, every other electrician did likewise. It seems most of them recommended I try to call you again. You appear to have a reputation for handling the unusual."

"Really?" I posed. Hell, I didn’t know that! I figured myself as pedestrian as the next electrician... Oh, yes, there was that job I did at the Yacht Club a few years ago that everyone else turned down because they wanted lighting on the undersides of the docks to give it that, how did they put it, theatrical esthetic or some such nonsense. Hell, it was a pain to pull off but I managed to install a 12-volt high-powered system that was both waterproof and withstood the waves and salt water. I wasn’t aware that it had given me the rep as some sort of miracle worker. I wasn’t sure I really liked that.

"So tell me," I said as nonchalant as possible, "what the hell is going on back there. Did a moose piss on your electric fence or something?"

As soon as I make the remark I was sorry I had. Lots of these yuppie women can come off very offended by such earthy remarks. To my delight she played along.

"No, I've seen some moose pissing in my time, but nothing with a bladder or anything else THAT big. I'm afraid this situation is something completely unique." She offered a sort-of half smile as if to say, "Are you ready to have some fun, Mr. Fixit?"

She motioned toward the front door. "Come on inside and we will explain everything to you in full detail."

"We" she said? Damn! Sure enough as I entered the house and followed her into what was logically the library, there was this young buck pacing the floor at least 5 years younger than she. He looked more pissed off than worried. Maybe he ran his electric mower into the swimming pool or something and they were just too stupid to kill the breaker. I've seen it all. These yuppie couples think they have the world by the short and curlies, and perhaps they can play Wall Street for suckers but when it comes to anything common sense like trimming a hedge or repainting a room, they're morons born and bred.

"This situation is one of rather great delicacy, Mr. Zigfield. You see, my brother Scott and I were contacted this afternoon by our father's cardiologist, Dr. Crooke. We were told that daddy suffered a rather strong heart attack. He's prone to them. So much so that he wares an alert transmitter around his neck at all times. It looks like he set it off and then made his way to the front porch where he could be easily seen. The EMS found him there, took him to the emergency room and notified Dr. Crooke who notified us. By the time we arrived the doctors were in agreement that this heart attack was likely to be his last and suggested we start seeing to his affairs. After all, there was nothing to be done for him other than to wait for him to die..."

"And the sooner the better. Silly old fart! His screwing around with energy fields and regenerative power systems has been sending bad signals about the company's future to the stockholders for some time now. No wonder they're starting to sell. We're going to loose our asses unless we can convince the stockholders that someone with a least a full deck is at the helm for once."

"Someone like you, of course, Scott?"

He drilled his eyes into the woman and said completely without remorse for his dying father, "Absolutely like me. Hell, yes it should be me. It should have been me 2 years ago when dad went off his rocker and started diverting R&D funds into this stupid project of his." He gestured wildly towards the back yard.

I turned in that direction and noticed a window in the room that overlooked the back yard. It was drawn with a heavy maroon drape and so only the slightest trace of the wild flickering I had seen earlier shown through near the floor. I walked over to it as the "kids" continued to argue. A few things were starting to fall into place. The pinhead in the Polo shirt, Dockers and Italian loafers was her brother. Cool! They had a father who must be the honcho at some major high tech outfit that took to playing with high voltage in his old age. He's about to croak and the brat wants his job. The sister, besides being a total babe, seems to have a cool head and a good attitude.

I pulled back the drape and what I saw gave even me a case of the willies. There was this shed. Not an uncommon looking shed, about 10 feet square with a door on one side and windows on the other three. The entire thing was enveloped in some sort of hemispherical bowl of highly concentrated and precisely focused lightening for lack of a better word. As I stared at it I could see periodic flashes of orange-red flame shooting outward from the otherwise smooth surface of the lightening field. As I watched, the children fussed.

"You realize that daddy is leaving his stock to me," Karen declared, "and that will make me the undisputed majority stockholder in the company. You can be sure that I will NOT allow you to take his place on the board."

"And just why the hell not?" demanded Scott.

"Because you're a swaggering, reactionary prick who has never worked a day in his life. You can't handle your Johnson well enough to keep from knocking up debutantes, how can anyone expect you to show the maturity to handle a multinational company with interests in a variety of fields INCLUDING…", and she raised her voice for the first time, just enough to make her point, "pure research into the development of alternative energy sources. You have no sense of vision nor do you have any respect for the hard work of the people that keep your bank account filled with party cash. There's no way in hell I would allow you to ever sit on the board much less hold the chair itself. Besides, daddy isn't dead yet, is he."

"The old screwball is as good as toast and you know it. If there isn't some sort of major announcement Monday morning to reassure the stability of the company, there will be a massive sell-off and you will loose your little silk crotchless panties and everything you enjoy parking them on."

I was half listening to all of this and trying to picture Karen prancing in front of me wearing nothing but a pair of silk crotchless panties. I was doing a fair job of it when I was pulled back into the conversation.

"There will be no massive sell-off because Mr. Zigfield here is going to shut down daddy’s experiment and help us figure out just exactly how the damn thing works. That should keep your frigging stock up. Mr. Zigfield..."

I turned from the window and faced Karen, still picturing her in crotchless panties. I could also picture good old Scott dressed in a French maid outfit and bent over a wooden rail being flogged by a 250 lb. wrestler in an executioner’s head mask. I couldn’t quite decide which would be more gratifying to see at that moment when I realized I was actually feeling protective toward Karen. Wow, that was an odd little twitch. After the battle with the ex, I hadn’t felt much for any woman beyond what was necessary to convince them to spend the night from time to time. What do we have here? Karen seemed both very sweet and at the same time strong enough to stand her ground. How rare. How desirable!

"I suppose it’s time to explain to you just what’s going on here."

"That would be very helpful, yes. And please call me Walter."

"As you can see, Walter," Karen continued as she walked towards the window where I stood, "our father has been experimenting in high voltage fields. It appears that he has developed some sort of high power energy source to drive it. It’s apparently self contained as disrupting household power to the shed had no effect on the strength of the field and for that matter didn’t even cut its interior lights."

"So how did he get out of the shed with that field in place?" I asked.

"We believe he uses some sort of remote control system to turn it on and off. So far we’ve been unable to find any sort of remote device so we’re starting to suspect he’s using a voice activated control. We’ve tried calling out every phrase we can think of at the shed but obviously have been unsuccessful at guessing the key, assuming that’s how it works."

She looked out the window with me and spoke more softly, as if just for my benefit. Junior had gone back to his pacing around. "Daddy is unconscious and is likely to stay that way until he dies. We have no idea what’s going on out there nor any idea how to shut it down. I don’t want to involve the police because that just attracts the press. Whatever daddy was doing out there, we don’t want it made public until we can get some sort of handle on it. I’m sure you can understand this."

"No doubt!" I contributed. "Are you sure there are no auxiliary sources of power to the shed, like underground conduits branching from another box or something?"

"Nothing we have been able to uncover. Perhaps you will be more successful"

About that time another orange flair shot from the surface of the field and generated a loud snap. "What’s causing that?"

"Bugs" replied Scott. "Moths, flies, mosquitoes...you know. BUGS!"

"Uh-huh, I know bugs." I didn’t need a science lesson from the pinhead. I could grasp the concepts well enough. It did tell me that coming into contact with this field was something to be avoided at all costs. A good safety tip for future reference you might say. "Mind if I take a quick survey of the house’s power system?"

"Feel free to come and go as you need. We’ll be here to help in any way we can," Karen promised.

I offered my polite thanks and headed for the basement. The breaker panel was common enough; 200 amp service with 220 volt 30 amp circuits to the air conditioner, stove, and dryer. The rest were normal appliance and lighting circuits of 110 volts with 20 amp lines to the kitchen and dining rooms and 15 amp lines to the rest of the house including one to the shed, which was closed. The heating and hot water were gas and that was about it. I went around to the side of the house and found the service entrance. It looked typical. Your basic 2 phase drop to the meter base. Nothing odd here. Whatever was powering that field, it was self-contained and from the sound of it, regenerative. Nothing pointed to the possibility that it would just fizzle out on its own any time within the next millennium. This is going to be a bitch!

I walked around the house to the back yard and addressed the shed. It was back from the house a good 30 feet and there were no overhanging trees near it. I saw that Karen and Scott were on the back patio sort of staring at the spectacle being created by the intersection of this field and some unfortunate flying insects. Aside from these loud snaps, the field itself generated only a low sizzle and there was the hum from whatever was powering it. The aroma of ozone was very heavy once I closed to within 10 feet.

I looked down and saw the tool end of a rake lying on the ground. It’s handle angled away from the head toward the field and came to an abrupt end. I could only guess that it had been in the wrong place at the wrong time when the field was activated. The handle was cut so cleanly that one wouldn’t even have gotten a splinter from rubbing across it. I was tempted to touch the rake but thought I would first use my charge tester to see if I was about to do something stupid.

This tester amounted to a small neon lamp with a wire going to each lead. If touching one lead to the rake and the other to the earth caused the lamp to glow, then I wasn’t going to get any closer. There was no glow. However, as I moved the neon lamp towards the field, it spontaneously glowed very brightly at a distance of about 6 inches. There was a very strong static charge in the air around the field. This came as no surprise.

"I understand the gardener accidentally dropped his rake into the field this afternoon. It immediately disintegrated the handle and his arm up to the elbow," Karen warned.

"And you can bet the SOB is going to want to sue the hell out of dad’s estate over it too," was Scott’s take on the tragic event. "You think a bug flying into this thing throws sparks, you should have seen this fellows arm light things up."

"You saw this happen?" I asked

"I was the first to arrive here this afternoon. Karen, being the sentimental type, just HAD to go to the hospital and see daddy first. I didn’t need to look at him and I knew he wasn’t going to be looking at me so I came strait here. I was looking out the library window when I saw this goober with a rake wander into the yard. He walked strait over to the field and stuck his arm in it, the moron. He yelled out something about ‘Praise the Lord for I have seen the power of Satin’ or some such nonsense and before I could call for help he ran off. Good thing too because I really didn’t want to be in the position of having to be a witness. That would likely screw my personal schedule up completely. I just don’t have time for that."

Damn, he really was a prick! I took a closer look beyond the field and sure enough I saw the skeleton of a hand and forearm on the grass. The bones were glowing a bright red, likely due to the fact that the severed end of the femur was still just in contact with the field on the other side. That’s all I needed to see! I backed away from the shed and the rake.

After circling around the shed I noticed that there was the glow of a PC monitor visible through a window. It looked like a word processor was on the display and the old man had been entering notes of some sort. It figured that both the control system and the documentation on this contraption would be INSIDE the field where no one could access them. Attempting to crack the verbal code that he used to turn the field on and off was pointless. If his own children couldn’t guess his pet phrase, I, a stranger, wouldn’t either. No, somehow I was going to have to access that computer in the shed and to do so I was going to have to figure out a way to get past that field. Perhaps a large pipe laid through the field would deflect it and I could crawl through to the other side. What the hell. I had a length of aluminum furnace duct in the van. Let’s see what a conductor intersecting the plane of the current would do. With luck, it will conduct the flow around the surface of the duct and not cut through it. Then I, in a fully insulated suit, could bridge the gap.

As I stood there with the length of duct in my hand I understood two things clearly. First, I didn’t want to be in contact with the duct at the moment it passed through the field regardless how thick my gloves were. The other thing was that if this didn’t work it was likely to generate a shower of sparks the likes of which have never been seen by human eyes! I cautioned Karen and Scott back inside the house and I poised myself to toss the duct and dive for cover behind some shrubs.

I tossed and jumped. As I did, I became aware that the results of a clash between an aluminum duct and a force field was a very loud roar, very bright sparks and a very stupid idea. I looked up in time to see the last of the duct evaporate into a cloud of aluminum oxide smoke. The only evidence of the duct was a scar on the grass in front of the force field where the duct had come to rest on the ground for a moment before it was vaporized. Man, did it ever stink too! I could see Scott peaking from the library window. Karen, on the other hand, ran out of the house and came over to me. She helped me up asking if I were all right. I assured her I was and made a strong mental note of the fact that she gave a damn. I may have moved up a square or two with Karen, but as far as the shed was concerned I was still at square one.

"I hope you still think we have a chance at figuring out what’s going on out there, Walter."

"Let's just say we won't be giving up easily," I said with a smile as I joined her at the kitchen table.

Karen poured two cups of coffee. Scott was in the library on the phone. I was glad for that. I was beginning to get a real burr up my ass about him. There was nothing in his nature I found short of repugnant and I said as much to Karen. She didn’t attempt to defend him at all other than to say that he was "so spoiled" by their late mother that he was left with very few redeeming qualities.

"What happened to her," I asked.

"She was killed about three years ago in a commuter plane crash outside of Chicago. My brother didn’t even mourn for her. He was too busy spending and screwing his way across Germany at the time. He never came home. After all my mother had done to make him so privileged, all she got in return was a short phone call to say that he hoped the tragedy wouldn’t effect the flow of money from the business to his personal accounts. I’ve pretty much gotten used to the fact that my kid brother is a jackass. I think it was one of the things that made me want to get as far from him as possible when I joined the Peace Corps during the time he was mooching here at home after high school and before they could ship him off to Princeton."

"I’ve known a few Princeton grads. He would fit right in. So how about you, what did you do in the corps and why the corps of all the possible getaways open to a rich and beautiful girl like you?"

"Hell, I don’t know!" She gave a cute giggle that made my shorts melt. "I just wanted to do something USEFUL for a change; something besides hosting my sorority friends in endless boat parties and playing the roll at family gatherings for a bunch of Swedes from Minnesota. I needed to, oh, I don’t know, feel necessary I guess. Anyway, I enjoyed the hell out of it. Sure it was hard work, but I learned to speak Spanish, how to lay pipe, how to set up and maintain solar voltaic arrays..." She gestured "ah, you know" with her hand and sipped her coffee. She looked at me with her gorgeous gray eyes from over the rim of her cup and I took it as my cue to say something about myself.

"I never did anything so grandiose as join the Peace Corps, but I become a Big Brother to some inner city kids during the summers I was in grad school. That was a challenge. First of all I had to convince them that they shouldn’t knife me in the back. Then I had to get close enough to them to find out how to help them reach some sort of goal. I started to think it was pointless until one day the toughest of the three kids I was working with came up to me and asked if I would help him rebuild a Chevy engine. Suddenly I was cool enough for the other two to hang out with and after a couple of summers I got close enough to bring up the notion of them going back to school for a GED. The youngest was still in school and he stayed there. The other two went for and got their GED. The tough guy, Berry, went to med school and is now in family practice. The other two at least got in their 4 years of college and are doing OK. I get a card from each of them every year. Sometimes I think I gave more to them than I gave to myself. I was a very mediocre student. I preferred to teach myself things that school was leaving out. Real world stuff, not a bunch of lofty theory. I finely got my act together when I joined my dad in this electrician gig. Now the company is mine and I’m doing quite well. What income I don’t end up sending to my ex gives me a very comfortable living."

She was smiling. I felt like the suns of a thousand summers were shining down on me at that moment. Then the cloud came into the room.

"I just got off the phone with my broker. His advice is to start divesting my interest in the company first thing Monday morning, hopefully before dad bites it."

"Scott, the SEC will be all over your back with insider trading violations if you attempt it. You feel like spending the next ten years in the slammer?"

"Ah, bull! I have it figured out. I’ll slide the stock around through my various holding interests and let it ooze out from several portals at once, none of them being directly connected with me. I’ll get away with it."

He put on his coat and gloves and started towards the front door. "I’m headed back to New York so page me when the old buzzard kicks. You two can have fun trying to avert a meltdown. Don’t you worry dear sis. I can take care of myself."

"I’m not holding my breath," she said just loud enough for only me to hear. We exchanged smiles and sipped our coffee.

Without a way into the shed it looked like there was going to be a permanent "conversation piece" in the middle of this back yard. It was bound to drive down the property value, at least so far as attempting to sell it to a family with small children or anyone with dogs.

I stood once again in the back yard facing my blue flickering nemesis. I had always entertained fantasies of doing battle with an unvanquishable foe for the favors of a lovely lady, I just never imagined it would be against an impenetrable tool shed. The whole thing would have been funny if the implications hadn't been so dreadful. I was certain that if I didn’t do anything stupid, like fail to know when to give up and walk away, I would live to laugh at this just the same.

Karen was standing on the patio, arms crossed, starting to chew at the corner of her lip. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yeah," a flash of inspiration whisped through my mind. "Do you have a pair of binoculars around?"

"I think so. Let me look."

She came back moments later with a pair of Nikons by the strap. She handed them to me and there was that smile again. I’m not sure how to describe it. I guess it was a sort of trusting expression. She had placed the fate of this event in my hands and was glad she had chosen me from among all potential heroes to save the day. Anyway, that’s how it made me feel. I have no idea what my return smile must have looked like to her. I was hoping it exuded confidence but may have been the look of a love-struck teenager.

Anyhow, I put the glasses to my eyes and tried to focus in on the computer inside the shed. I’m not sure what I was expecting to see. Maybe I had hoped the secret password would be flashing there on the screen or something. It wasn’t. I did see a lot though. At first I wasn’t conscious of what it was, but something played around in the back of my mind as I scanned the computer and the desk it was sitting on.

The monitor displayed Word Perfect with a document half-finished on the screen. I was able to read parts of it but that added nothing to the soup. Then it struck me. On the desk next to the keyboard was a headset with a boom microphone on the end. Next to that I saw a cell phone modem and it appeared to be off hook and on line. Odd. This field was tuned somehow to block mater but not energy like cell phone transmissions. I was willing to bet sound would also pass through it unimpeded.

"Karen," I called with some excitement in my voice.

"What is it?" She asked as she trotted to my side.

I kept looking through the eyepieces afraid to loose focus of my idea. "Did your dad have trouble typing; Arthritis or anything?"

"Well, yes, come to think of it he did have joint pain in his hands from time to time, why? What do you see?"

I lowered the binoculars slowly, turned my head to her and smiled. "The answer!"

Boy, at that moment I was really hoping I wasn’t blowing this out of my ass. It occurred to me that if the old man had trouble typing and there was a headset with a microphone attached and this was a fairly powerful PC (which I guessed it would have to be), then it was logical to assume he was using some sort of speech recognition software to dictate his notes rather than attempting to key them in. It also stood to reason that I could "speak" to his computer too, even from out here. Now, given his system also appeared to still be on line, I could transfer files back and forth from this system to another, say, the one in the library. YES!!! That was it! I could request his system download a remote access program, install it and then allow me to take over all functions remotely.

I explained my plan to Karen and she sort of looked at me glassy-eyed for a moment. I guess that in the excitement I got a bit over technical. I tried again by explaining, "I can talk to that computer just like your father did using the speech recognition software that it's still running. I'll give the computer spoken commands that will cause it to perform the same operations as if I, or he, had entered them on the keyboard or with the mouse. I'll tell the computer to log on to my home page on the Internet and download into its memory a program by Peter Norton called "PC Anywhere". This program is designed to allow all of the functions of a remote computer, in this case your dad's, to be directed by another computer over the phone. At that point I can stop yelling at it from out here and use the computer in the library to remotely control this computer."

"And then we can remotely scan his database for the password?" she asked hopefully.

When I said we certainly could, she impulsively leaped into my arms and gave me a strong smack on the kisser. Granted not a passionate sort of kiss, but an enthusiastic one never the less. I was more than willing to settle for it at this stage of the game. Truth be known, after that kiss we both felt just a tad embarrassed and that fact struck us as funny at the same time. We stood there for a moment in that embrace looking in each other's eyes and laughing. I don't think either of us exactly wanted to let go, but at the same time we were both aware of the inappropriateness of getting romantic at the exact moment we were about to solve this daunting challenge. I blinked first by taking her hands in mine, lightly kissing them and saying, "In order to do this I have to go home and set things up on my web site. I really don't think this shed is going anywhere and I've noticed that neither of us has eaten all evening. It's almost midnight and you HAVE to be hungry. I know I sure as hell am! Come with me and we'll stop off at Red Eye Bar-B-Q at the bottom of highway 11 for some chow and a beer. You game?"

Still holding my hands, she playfully swung my arms with hers and declared, "Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss a dinner date with you for a dozen force fields," and off we went.

I won't go into details as to our conversation over dinner but suffice it to say we didn't discuss force fields. We talked about damn near everything else for about an hour and a half. Among other things, I found out she earned double Master's degrees in business and applied mathematics. Wow! Still, somehow, she made me feel very comfortable. There was none of the usual "holier than thou" mind trip I had come to expect from women of her stature. She was very warm, very real. I don't think it was my imagination either that told me she was starting to fall for me.

Well, why the hell not? I was a good-looking fellow, also quite intelligent and I like to think I'm not as big an ass as a lot of men out there. I was sure beginning to hope that I was presenting a good image. One thing was for sure. I had learned a long time ago not to put on a false face for the benefit of a woman. Anyone who does will always get caught at it sooner or later. It only adds up to disappointment and a rough break-up. I'm an up-front sort of person anyhow. Such games don't come naturally to me like they do many guys. She too was very up front and I could sense no games from her either. Man, was I ready for a woman like this.

Before long we were off to set the trap on my web page for her dad's poor unsuspecting computer. It didn't take too long. All I had to do was write a simple auto-install program that would load only the necessary components of the Norton "PC Anywhere" CD ROM into the shed computer to allow remote access, then associate it with a link on my home page that would be easy to get to using vocal commands. I then put the original CD-ROM in my coat pocket so I could install it onto the library computer

"I want you to know that what I'm about to do is a direct violation of my software license agreement," I said quite playfully as I watched the upload byte count increment. "I'm willing to break the law for you, angel."

She glided herself into a chair next to my PC and responded, "Jeez, you make us sound like a cyber Bonnie and Clyde. You're not going to tell me that a long time hacker like yourself doesn't have a single bit of pirated software on his system, now are you, sweetheart?"

God, I liked the sound of that! I could tell she liked the sound of it too, given the coo in her voice as she said it and the glow of her smile as she looked at me. I smiled back and teased, "Well, I have some unregistered shareware that has passed its evaluation period. Does that count?"

"Not even."

I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I also began to realize that my feelings towards her were originating less from my trousers and more from my heart. A voice in my head warned me that I was in trouble, but I had too many other voices telling me, "No, not this time. This time you’ve lucked out."

Karen sat there smiling at me in the glow of the monitor. She absent-mindedly ran her hand through her hair and then rested her head in it. I was about to tell her that I had never in my life seen anything as lovely as her when my computer rudely beeped and broke the mood of the moment. It startled us both. I looked up and found that the upload operation had been completed successfully. It was time to make the grand attempt; not me at her, but us both at the force field. The former would come eventually, I was sure.

"One more thing," I said as we neared the door. I reached into a hall closet and snagged a boom box Karaoke machine and it's microphone. "I'll need to project my vocal commands into the shed, and I don't know how long I would be able to scream at it without loosing my voice." I took her hand and we were gone.

As I pulled the van up in front of the Stevinson house for the second time, I was shocked back to the reality of what we were up against. Maybe because it was much darker now at about 2 AM then it was when I pulled up the first time. Maybe it was because this had become more than a job to me now that I had Karen's benefit very much on my mind. Then again maybe because I was afraid what I was about to try wouldn't work. Looking back on it now, I can't really say other than to admit I was spooked. I looked at Karen and that warm smile had dissolved into a tense expression of total dread. I took her hand in an attempt to lend her some of the resolve I was trying like hell to fake. She squeezed it, not out of affection but real fear. Somehow knowing that she was looking to me for strength at that moment allowed me to find some that I didn't know was there. I must have been hiding it from myself for just such an occasion.

Once back in the library, the first order of business was to pop in the CD-ROM and install the master control program on this system. It took a bit longer than I should have because I wasn't familiar with this system and I had to poke around a bit to get everything just so. Now came the hard part. I had to go outside and holler at the shed.

I was glad as hell that we were out in the middle of nowhere because I would have been a tad self conscious about standing out in the cold at 3 in the morning shouting computer commands through a boom box at a tool shed enveloped in blue lightening. The total absurdity of it all was just a bit too much for an audience. I could deal with Karen watching me. We were in on this together. A whole neighborhood plus the cops and camera crews from all the networks - no way in hell! At that point I would have deferred to the local sportscaster to do the screaming for me. However, it was just us and up to me.

I plugged in the boom box and set it about a foot from the field. At that distance the electromagnetic interference was overwhelming to the little amplifier's circuitry. At about three feet the interference was acceptable. I didn't know what brand of speech recognition software the old guy was running, but I guessed that the verbal commands it was keyed to respond to would be rather standard. I did the traditional "Testing…1…2…" routine into the mike and I was satisfied that it was clear enough and loud enough to trigger the program.

Karen stood beside me holding the binoculars. I looked at her and our eyes met. Nothing was said, but we could both feel that we truly believed in each other. As if on cue, we both leaned in and kissed. It was a long, lingering sort of kiss, gentle and reassuring, and yes most definitely passionate though not overtly sexual. It was what we both needed and needed to say to each other. There were no words, just our eyes and the touch. I continued to look at her for a moment as we held there, the tips of our noses barely brushing. I placed my fingers on her temple and lightly brushed them down her cheek. She closed her eyes and cradled her face in my hand. After a moment, she smiled warmly for me and turned her head to kiss my palm. I think at that very moment we both realized we were falling in love.

I touched my lips to hers again, not so much a kiss, just a touch and spoke to her moving my lips on hers, "Are you ready to do this?"

She brought her forehead to mine as she answered, "We can make this plan work. I believe in you. Tell me what you need me to do."

I kissed her lightly once more and gently we disengaged. Taking the binoculars from her slightly trembling hand, I handed her the microphone. "Hold the mic in front of my mouth about an inch away so my hands are free to keep the glasses to my eyes. I'm going to try and read the results of my commands. With any luck we'll be out of the cold in a few moments."

After focusing in on the monitor beyond the blue flickers, I spoke the first command.

"MINIMIZE", blared the boom box.

Sure enough, Word Perfect dropped to the task bar and the desktop was visible.

"It's WORKING!" I said with excitement.

"TAB…TAB…ENTER"

Now the start menu was open. I continued, "UP…UP…UP…" until I had the program start menu open. I kept going until I had launched the web browser. I tabbed over to the URL window and recited my web address. A moment later my home page was on the screen. Damn I was pleased with myself. Karen was hopping up and down like a kid at a carnival.

"TAB…TAB…ENTER", and now the download dialog was on the screen.

"Help me remember this, OK? Drive D, Internet, Downloads, Temp. That's the name of the folder where your dad's computer will store the download file."

"Drive D, Internet, Downloads, Temp. Got it!" she responded.

The download started without a problem and I knew it would take long enough for me to make a run to the John. I was afraid that if I got any more excited, nervous or both, I was going to set my pants afloat! Karen made fresh coffee and we stood in the library, I watching from the window through the binoculars for the download to finish. This time she was pacing. I couldn't resist kidding her.

"Cut that out, you look like Scott."

She picked up the closest pillow from the couch and pelted me with it. "Except much better looking and much more kissable." I corrected with a grin.

Placing her arms around me, she leaned over my back and spoke softly into my ear, "I sincerely hope you had no urge to kiss Scott." At which time I reached down to the floor for the pillow and arching over my back bopped her on the head. She grabbed it and I swung around to take her in my arms. She put hers around me and said, "I take that as a 'no'" and we kissed again; for a while. This time quite passionately. At some point I looked at her and mentioned that the download was probably finished.

"So what? Are you scared of where this is leading?" she teased.

"Not in your life!"

Nothing else got done that night. Well, nothing that related to the shed anyway.

The next morning we simply couldn't get out of bed. Every time we tried, something romantic would overtake us and there would pass another hour. This went on until about 10 AM when neither of us had the strength to stay in bed any longer, paradoxical as that might sound. I went into the library and powered up the computer. Karen rummaged through her father's kitchen. At length she swept into the room and declared that there was nothing in the house fit to eat. Looking up and beholding her bare beauty in the morning light, I was inclined to disagree and said so. Her eyes lit up and she smiled at me in a way that I now refer to as "that sinful look". These days it usually leads immediately to the bedroom. On this first morning we just didn’t have the energy left so we elected instead to take a leisurely and playful shower together. In a stroke of brilliant planning, Karen had put our clothes through the laundry so after the shower we dressed refreshed.

Electing to put off going for breakfast long enough to send the last few vocal commands to the shed computer, we established the remote link. At first there was a brief panic when we both failed to remember the location where her dad's computer had stored the download. It seemed we sort of had other things on our minds for a while the night before. It finely came to us and I did my last auctioneer imitations by starting the install program I had created to auto-configured the system for remote access. That done, we left to go eat.

The breakfast joints in rural Connecticut were not known for ambiance but could sure make pancakes and coffee fit for royalty. For some reason, neither of us could imagine why, we were both starved. At length the final cups of coffee were poured and the conversation shifted to the future of this strange invention of Karen's father's. I couldn't help but observe that if this wasn't handled delicately, very powerful interests would start to see the company in general and her in particular as a threat. Perhaps even an expendable one. I didn't mean to frighten her, but the facts were facts. Every other means of producing energy could find itself obsolete in a matter of days, not to mention the bitch the military would pitch when they learn about this impenetrable force field gizmo.

"Is there someone inside the company that you trust implicitly with this sort of information?" I asked her as she drained her third cup of coffee. She held the cup and thought for a moment. Then her face broke into a smile and she said, "Yes. Yes, there is."

She put the cup down and dropped more than enough cash on the table to cover the meal and a healthy tip. I didn't argue. I had bought dinner the night before and I somehow knew this was the way she would want to play it. She smiled at me and took my hand on the way out. I got the feeling that she was very pleased that I made no attempt to challenge her paying the tab. Back in the car I pressed her for her plans.

"Once we're home I'll make a call or two and we'll see what happens."

Karen spent a few moments on the phone with someone; I had no idea whom yet. I started going through the old man’s hard drive via the link I had established from the library. There was nothing unremarkable about any of the files I found. All information relating to the project were in his word processor document folder and none of those documents offered more than a block diagram of the power system and field generator with a simple box between the two labeled "On/Off". Hell, that could be anything from a voice-activated control as we still suspected to a garage door style remote. The text did make for very interesting reading. By that afternoon I was pretty much up to speed on the theories of operations for both inventions. Karen and I carried on a continuous brainstorming dialog as I read. She was very adept at understanding the math involved as well as her father’s manner of speaking and writing. However, as the final pages unfolded before us we were no closer to understanding how to control the experiment still raging in the back yard. I went through every file in his system looking for a voice command program that interfaced with the generator. I found nothing. In fact, I was now convinced that this computer didn’t interface in any way with the experiment outside of containing notes and correspondence. We had hit a brick wall.

At least Karen could report more success in her quest for an inside confidant with the company. She had gotten in touch with her dad’s lab manager and long time cribbage buddy Arthur Tempelton. She had known him since she was a little girl.

"I used to have this pet gerbil when I was about 10 I guess. Well, Scott, who was an asshole even at the tender age of 5, used to open its cage and let it run wild on a regular basis. I remember chasing it through this very room while dad and Arthur set in front of the fire and played cards. On one occasion Maverick, that’s what I named my gerbil, actually scampered up dear Arthur’s trouser leg. God did that poor fellow dance! He was still hopping around long after Maverick has fallen out and run off again. Hell, that’s probably about as much action as Arthur ever had in his trousers. As far as I know he never did marry."

"How could he?" I mused. "After all of the excitement of that rodent running up his leg how could a woman hope to compete?" and we both laughed at the ideas that this conjured up. Finely I turned to her and asked point blank, "Do you trust this man with your life? I need to know because I’m not about to let anything happen to you."

She curled up on the couch beside me and tucked her head under my arm. "I’ve started to grow on you, I gather."

I held her close and kissed her cheek. "That doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel about you. I want to say things to you and express things to you that seem almost absurd given I’ve known you less than a full day. Yet, I know what I’m feeling. This is more than just wanting you. In fact I think it’s more than needing you. I could almost say that I fully expected this to happen and can’t imagine it being any other way. I have no idea how much of a role our shared adventure has played in developing such deep feelings this quickly, but I believe this would have happened if we had met at the bus stop or something. Am I making any sense?"

She turned her face to me, looked into my eyes and said simply, "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"I do now," and I kissed her.

"I had no idea Lars was in the hospital," said the portly gentleman as he entered through the front door. "I knew he was having some heart trouble from time to time, and I suppose this was bound to happen sooner or later, but..but.."

Arthur was starting to get flustered. Karen quickly rescued him by filling in the details about her father's condition. The dear fellow started to weep as she told him her father wasn’t expected to ever regain consciousness. We lead him into the library where he sat quietly on the couch for a few moments. I thought it prudent to fetch a cold glass of water, which Arthur gratefully accepted. After a few sips he asked, "So are we on our way to see him? Is that why you asked me to meet you here?"

"Well, no, not exactly. We'll be going in a short while but I asked you here for an altogether different reason." She sat down beside him and I beside her. "You see, Arthur, daddy had been working on a series of experiments here at the house and we can’t shut them down. I was hoping you could help us do that. Once this is done we need to try and learn as much as we can about how they work because the commercial implications of these inventions are beyond precedent. In fact, they are so far reaching that Walter thinks they might even pose a risk to me and the company."

"Ah, yes," he leaned forward past Karen and quickly looked me over. Extending a hand to shake, he formally introduced himself and I did likewise. "I’m sorry I didn’t do this at the beginning, but I was in such shock...still am, really."

"I understand. Think nothing of it. Karen has told me of your long affiliation with the family and the implicit trust she has in you. You therefore have mine as well." I told him.

He eyed me curiously at that point and queried, "And you connection in this matter is...?"

"He’s my partner," Karen quickly interjected. "Not in a business sense but in a personal sense. He's also been key to my attempts at unraveling the mystery daddy left in the back yard."

"You have been speaking of some great mystery, my dear. As you know, I spend as much time in this house as my own. Granted, I've been in Ohio over the past week visiting my sister but I can't imagine what he could have done in that little shed in one week that could have caused such consternation."

As he spoke, he rose from the couch and made his way slowly to the window for a look. "He's been bouncing some odd concepts around during our cribbage games that have to do with superconductivity and energy containment fields but…HOLY JESUS!" He stared dumfounded out the window at the shed, which even under full daylight was bathed in its now customary blue glow. "What in heaven's name have you done, Lars?"

Karen stood beside him and pulled the drape away from the window so we could all see. She just stood there as did I. None of us could think of anything to say for a moment. Karen finely broke the silence. Over the next few minutes she brought Arthur up to date with what we knew and what we were trying to do. At the conclusion he agreed that these inventions would be something someone would kill to possess or even kill to suppress. He did have one suggestion, publicity and lots of it. Once this was out in the open and everyone knew where everyone stood with it there could be no gain in attempting to either steal it or bury it.

"That sounds like good advice, Arthur," I agreed, "but I don't see how we can lay claim to anything until we learn how to control it at the very least and then reliably duplicate it. Right now we have something that could just as well have come from Mars as from Lars. We need control of it. Can you offer any insight from your evenings playing cards with him?"

"No, I'm afraid that he never confided in me on this matter except in the most superficial way. I would be very hurt if I didn't believe he had done that more to protect me as anything. Have you looked in the safe?"

Karen looked dumbly at me and then back to Arthur. "I didn't know daddy had a safe, Arthur."

"Oh, yes, my dear. It's right here behind the door." He crossed the room, swung the door shut and pointed to a section of panel. Whoever installed this puppy was good. There was no indication whatsoever that the paneling broke along any line. Arthur started pressing along one side. "I've watched him open this panel before. He stashed a winning lottery ticket in here once. We retrieved it so we could cash it one afternoon. Not that he needed the $4000 that the ticket was worth, but we went to the track with the cash and had a hell of a good time loosing and eating the state's money. The principle of the thing, you know. And so later we…"

He stopped talking and froze his hands for a second. Something had definitely happened. I could see a small seam pop into view. Arthur continued pushing to the left and there was a click followed by a smooth slipping of one section of panel behind another to reveal a safe door about six inches square. There was a key lock in the front. Arthur looked up at us triumphantly but I had another one of those sinking feelings. Now we needed to find the key.

"Lars usually kept that key on his personal ring," Arthur told us.

"He probably had those keys on him when they took him to the hospital." I then took Karen's hands and spoke gently to her, "When we go to visit your dad I suggest you ask the attendant for his personal effects." She nodded and I continued, " Before we go, you may want to take a few moments to contact the people who should be made aware of his situation. There may be more folks like Arthur who deserve the chance to see him before - well, before it's too late."

My lover shook her head in agreement. She went to her dad's desk and quickly found his address book. Bravely, she opened it up, flipped through the pages finding the important names and started making the calls. Arthur and I left her in private. We took that opportunity to get to know each other a bit. It seemed the best thing to do in that it appeared the two of us would be doing a lot of close work together over the next day or so. After a short time I was convinced that I liked the old gentleman. He seemed to like me as well. When Karen finely emerged from the library some 40 minutes later I could tell she had been crying. I held her for a moment and then suggested we take her car and head for the hospital.

The soon to be late Dr. Lars Stevinson rested unconscious in intensive care, a multitude of tubes and wires protruding from various locations on his body. Karen set down beside him and we left her there to meditate over him. As Arthur and I made our way to the waiting room we passed a nursing station. I stopped and turned to Arthur. "Do you happen to know the name of Dr. Stevinson's gardener?"

"Why, yes. His name is Dwayne Pratt, Why?"

I went to the desk and inquired as to whether they had an amputee named Pratt listed. They did. After explaining to Arthur what had happened to him at the shed I suggested that Dwayne might have heard his employer shouting or calling out something in the vicinity of the shed from time to time. If so, it would likely have been the password we were looking for to shut down the field. His room was on another floor and was easy to find.

"Do you know him, Arthur? More to the point, would he know you?"

"Oh, absolutely!" was the reply. "I’ve seen him often working around Lars’ yard over the past three years or so. He’s a good man if a bit odd. Damn tragic what happened. I expect Karen will want to compensate him well for the injury. I guess he would likely sue otherwise."

"He may either way. The important thing is to obtain his help and his oath of discretion. I’m sure the reality that his life could be at risk for knowing too much will encourage him to capitulate," and boy did I hope so. Up to this point we had run ourselves ragged in a series of full circles and come up with squat. Time was starting to become an issue. All of this had happened on Friday, thankfully after the close of business. Today was Saturday. By Monday morning a lot of people would be looking for a lot of answers. Karen needed to be ready for them. God knows, if I could have lifted her away from all of this and hidden her with me on a lonely island beach for a few weeks while all of this sorted itself out in the most unholy way, I would have. I had already tried that running from responsibility thing as a young man walking out on graduate school and all it did was put my ass square in a sling. I was never going to do that again. Besides, if there was anything I was sure of about, the woman I now loved wasn’t a runner - period. We would see this through and I would get the chance to be that white knight coming to my lady’s rescue. She was worth it.

I asked Arthur to enter the room first being the familiar face. Dwayne wasn’t alone. There was a woman with him; a young woman; a VERY young woman! I put Dwayne at about 28 or so and later Arthur confirmed this estimate. She, on the other hand, looked to be maybe 17, certainly no more than 19. She was also quite obviously pregnant. Oh boy would the courts love this case. I was going to have to be very conciliatory as well as very generous.

He recognized Arthur and they greeted each other warmly. I was introduced as a close family friend who spoke for its interests. After doing my best to offer our regrets for the accident, I was about to explain the gravity of the situation to him when to my surprise he started into this rant about having been attacked by aliens at the Stevinson house.

"There I was," he began, "standing in the presence of Satin’s messenger. I knew what it was right away. I always wear my extraterrestrial energy field detector right next to my watch so I’ll know when I’m close to an alien power source. It glows when it gets close to one. Why, I was on this tour of the Three Mile Island plant a few years ago and I could see it glowing just a bit when we got near one of the turbines. I knew something was fishy and sure enough a month later the place goes up like a roman candle!

"Well anyhow, I looked at my detector and it was glowing like a sombitch. As I got closer it got brighter until I got too close and the field grabbed my arm and burned it off! Did a fair job on the rake I was holding too. I knew these invaders didn’t want me to have the evidence of my detector and so they destroyed it, arm and all. I just sort of stood there for a minute looking at my arm and there was no blood or pain or nothing. I looked up and praised God for having shown me the power of The Evil One and his alien minions. I got back in my truck and was going to go to the Temple of the Universal Christ where we await His return and tell the others but thought it would be best to come here first."

"Did you tell the doctors about your, ah, encounter?" I asked.

"Hell, yes! I told them that I had done battle with Satin and his extraterrestrial messengers and I had been touched by their evil. They fixed me up just fine and gave me some sorta shot that made me kinda stupid for a while."

I had to really bite my tongue at that one. I played along and asked, "Have you told anyone that the alien presence was at Dr. Stevinson’s house?"

"No, I didn’t want to start a panic. I just said it was up in the woods off the ridge." He looked a bit worried for a moment and added, "Someone needs to get up there and tell Dr. Stevinson what’s going on in his back yard. He could get hurt!"

Arthur informed Dwayne that "Dr. Stevinson suffered a heart attack yesterday and is already here in the ICU."

"Ah, hell, I should have tried to get him out of the house too." He was noticeably upset over his perceived failure to the old man. "I’ll never forgive myself for letting them zap poor Dr. Stevinson with their heart stopping beam. That’s likely what happened to him. It's how they killed Elvis too. We know all about their techniques. We’re getting ready because He’s on His way back to Earth!"

"Who’s ‘He’"? I asked him with the kind voice of ignorance.

Why, our Lord Jesus Christ the Cosmic Traveler. You see, Jesus lives in space and commands a mighty fleet of intergalactic starships. Once every 2000 years or so he comes back to add the faithful among us to his crew. This is why there're so many movies about space and aliens and stuff these days. The people are being made ready for His appearance and those worthy among us will have to get used to the idea of living with all sorts of extraterrestrial creatures; some with two heads, some with five eyes, some with big bubbles for bodies, and we must be ready to see them all as brothers in the service of His great cosmic fleet.

"But you know," he lowered his voice and motioned us closer as though sharing a very special secret with us. "Satin is out looking for people to join his armada of evil too now that The Lord is on his way to do battle. He sends scouts from time to time to temp the weak into his service. In a few years, maybe even a few months, there will be a huge war in our solar system between the forces of good and evil. In the process the earth will be destroyed and all those who did not give themselves to the service of Christ’s starships will parish for all time! I have now seen the sign for myself and I was strong enough not to be taken in by the beam of evil." He waved his stump, "Even if it did cost me my arm."

"I need to know something very important, Dwayne. Did you ever hear the doctor shout anything at the shed like a code or password or anything like that?" I addressed him softly like I understood and was now enlightened.

"You don’t think he was trying to communicate with the Devil, do you?" he asked wide-eyed.

"Of course not. But he was a scientist and so might have discovered some way to control or even dispel the aberration. We had hoped that you might know."

He thought for a moment, obviously a very taxing function, then answered, "No, I never heard him say much of anything except what he needed done around his flower beds and such. I’m sorry Mr. Zigfield."

That OK," I consoled. "There’s one more thing I want you both to do for us. It’s very important that we not let anyone know that this happened at Dr. Stevinson’s house. People might get the wrong idea about who’s side he’s on, if you know what I mean. We need to try and destroy it before it can...recruit anyone."

He nodded with understanding and promised, "I’ll not tell anyone, not even the faithful, where this happened. I don’t want anyone to suffer my misfortune or risk being sucked up into Satin’s service by this force field."

The girl stared at us with eyes as big as, forgive the expression, flying saucers and likewise nodded her pledge.

"You do this for us, and I’ll see to it that you are well compensated for your loss and suffering. There may be people; lawyers, reporters and others who will temp you with money or fame if you'll tell them about the evil. You must be strong and resist this temptation. We'll take care of you both so long as you do and that includes any new members of the flock that might come along," alluding to the girls impending situation. She smiled shyly and held Dwayne’s remaining hand. Both he and the young girl nodded and promised. That was the best we were going to be able to hope for.

I then thanked him for his help, useless as it had been. Arthur exchanged somewhat more personal sentiments and we left. I pounded the elevator button with the force of my disappointment but after the doors closed and we were alone we both let go with gut wrenching laughter. We could hardly catch our breath!

At length I regained some of my composure and remarked, "Damn it, Arthur. Every time we find a new avenue to explore we find a wall at the end. I’m starting to run out of ideas."

"Let’s hope Lars’ safe holds the answer," he offered. "You know what they say; always darkest just before the dawn and all of that."

Yeah, yeah, I know. Keep a stiff upper lip and so forth. It didn’t help. I wasn’t sure this situation was going to be resolvable but there was no way I was going to admit this, especially to Karen whom we found standing at the nurse’s station apparently waiting for us. Her face was still a bit wet from crying. I took a tissue from the desk and gently wiped her cheeks. She managed a bit of a smile and I managed one for her.

"We need to try to find your dad’s effects," I said.

"Already done," she replied holding up a large white envelope. I was a bit amazed. Even in the face of deep emotional pain she was still able to keep her eye on the ball. This was a woman I could love for life, no doubt about it. I would be able to rely on her to do what had to be done regardless of the circumstances. As it turned out, I was right about her. She has proven this to me many times in the intervening years.

"May I look at his keys, my dear?" asked Arthur.

She fished them from the envelope and handed them to him as we walked. He turned them over in his hand and isolated one saying, "I’m sure this is the key. Another avenue opens up to us. May we find better than a wall at the end of this one," and dropped them back into the envelope. That would be a nice change of fortune, I thought. Still, as I walked out of the hospital holding Karen’s hand in mine it really didn’t matter so much what happened at this point so long as I could keep her.

OK, I’ll be honest. One thing did matter that almost rivaled my desire for Karen; my desire for food. Once the brisk evening air hit me I realized I was starving. After all, breakfast was burned up in advance from our, well, sleep so to speak. No energy was stored there. In fact, I barely broke even on the deal. Lunch was forgotten in the shuffle and here it was, 7 in the evening, and I could have eaten road kill!

Arthur wanted fish and chips. I thought I had fallen into a 70’s TV commercial for a moment there. I was leaning towards steaks. Karen didn’t care either way so long as there was a salad bar where she could graze. I don’t know how this happened, but for some reason chicken was determined to be a fair compromise. I could sort of see it. It was NOT what any of us wanted so that was fair somehow. Over dinner, Arthur recounted our little sojourn into the absurd with Dwayne. She laughed mightily and that did my own heart good to see.

After we had all eaten our fill of something none of us really liked, Karen nuzzled up to me in the parking lot and asked if I would mind stopping at a super market. I gave her one of my "What have you been drinking tonight?" sort of looks when she reminded me that there was nothing in the house to eat and she had no intentions of sleeping alone for the foreseeable future. So, unless I wanted to smear my body with her makeup and tiptoe into the woods to bring down an elk, I had better say yes. For a second I wondered if it would be possible to cook an elk over the force field without vaporizing it, but only for a second. I agreed if she would allow me to stop by my place and get some things including the newest addition to my collection of Pat Metheny CDs. She melted in my arms and said that listening to Pat Metheny made her want to dance naked, so naturally I made a mental note to pick up ALL of my Pat CDs. I thought if Pat Metheny makes her want to dance naked – well, let’s just say I was starting to visualize her in those mythical silk crotchless panties again.

"Here you are my dear," Arthur said as he pulled the keys from the envelope. "You should be the one to open it and view the contents."

She took the ring by the safe key and tried the lock. The mechanism spun smoothly. She swung the door aside and looked into the dark cavity. I could see a few items including a small notebook, a handsome wooden box and an army issue Colt revolver. Karen pulled the entire contents out and spread the items on her dad’s desk. I had another one of those "screwed again" feelings as none of the items appeared to be in any way connected with his research. It didn’t take long for this suspicion to be confirmed. We had found his financial accountings, a copy of the deed to the property, and some photos of his late wife. The box held a set of diamond studs and cufflinks and then there was the revolver. Karen swore for the first time in my presence, quite well I might add, and I could guess for the first time in Arthur’s presence too given his expression of shock.

I walked up behind Karen, put my arms around her and lightly kissed the back of her head. She leaned into my embrace and stared at the contents laid out on the desk. Her disappointment was obvious. Arthur went back to the couch and leafed through the hard copy I had generated from Lars’ word processor files. At length he offered, "We might be able to wait until the super-conductive gyro disk in the generator runs out of coolant."

"Not likely," I replied. "His specs call for a high temperature super-conductor ceramic that maintains zero resistance up to 40 degrees C. That’s desert conditions. I’m willing to put money on the odds that his contraption meets this spec. Hell, it’s below freezing out there anyway and with zero resistance there’s zero heat loss through the system. I’m not optimistic."

"So can we cover the shed in some sort of superstructure and subject the interior to high temperatures using heat lamps or arc ovens or something?" he countered.

"As a last resort, maybe," Karen broke in. "But remember our deadline of Monday morning to be able to make this an asset to the company instead of a liability. That's why we didn't even consider the idea of tunneling. We need another plan."

I picked up her father’s key ring and started flipping the keys as an unconscious distraction. The house key, A car key, an alarm system key, the safe key, the garage key. Ah, here was something worth looking at, another door key.

"Anyone know what this other door key goes to?"

Arthur didn’t even look up. "That’s the key to the shed. No point in having that if you can’t get near the door without ending up a puff of vapor."

Good point. I continued flipping keys.

"How about this locker key" I wondered aloud.

Again, Arthur knew the habits of his closest friend all too well. "That’s to a locker in the exercise room at the plant. He stopped in there after hours most days just to get in a few minutes on the treadmill. Doctors orders and so on. He ceased going a few months ago so I wouldn't think any clues are hidden there. He started spending that extra time working on this project I would suppose. I wouldn’t be surprised if his switching from daily exercise to daily skullduggery didn’t contribute to this latest attack."

"There was virtually no food in this house when I arrived. I suspect he's been eating poorly for quite some time as well and this likely didn’t do his overall health any good either." Karen added. "There was a nasty gash on his hip from the fall. I noticed it took several stitches to close. Poor nutrition has likely made his skin very thin by now."

I was still spinning the key ring around my finger. "Hell, he probably got that gash by falling on his key ring. The edges of this burglar alarm key would cause a nasty slice on anyone’s leg."

Both of them looked up at me at the same time and demanded, "What burglar alarm key?"

I really didn't think about it, I just assumed that a nice crib like this would have to have a burglar alarm system installed so the presence of the key never struck me as odd. I guess neither Karen nor Arthur had paid any attention to any of the keys on the ring beyond the one that went to the safe. If I had been more observant I would have noticed that the house did have an alarm system but it was keypad controlled. There was no need for a mechanical lock. Well hell, this key had to fit something!

"If this key has anything to do with what we're all hoping it has to do with, then the lock it fits will be on or near the back porch," Karen observed as she herded Arthur and I toward the sliding glass door. "You guys start looking along the brick wall and I'll look here on the porch."

That's my girl! We went to work combing the entire rear surface of the house. I went left and Arthur went right. Karen started moving the deck furniture away from the patio enclosure and inspected the area closely. She had results before I had finished looking half way along the wall.

"Hey, I've found something. It looks like a weather-proof box," she called out. Before Arthur or I could return to her location she had the door of the box open and was grinning ear to ear. She tried the key. It fit! I looked at her, she at me. This was a moment of truth and Lord knows we had seen our share of them come and then pass with disappointment. I almost wanted to hide my eyes until it was all over, but I was glued there. Karen grabbed the butt of the key with the force of determination and turned it.

We were suddenly thrown into darkness and an eerie silence befell the night. The blue glow was gone. The sizzling was gone. There was now only a shed with no lights on inside and three stunned people squatting on a patio in the middle of the night watching the clouds of steam coming from each other's breaths. It was done! Karen started to laugh so hard she cried. I pulled her into my arms and Arthur joined in for a group hug.

"You realize," Arthur spoke in a hushed tone, as if someone might overhear, "the real work is just beginning. We must now enter that shed and become masters of whatever the hell we find there."

"Piece of cake!" I asserted. "After what we've been through nothing seems a challenge anymore. I'm going to turn on the shed breaker from downstairs. I'll flip it on for a half second and then turn it back off. I want to know if anything funny happens. If not, I leave it on."

"I'll stand by the top of the stairs and relay Karen's observations to you." Said Arthur.

I tried the breaker and then shut it down. Arthur confirmed that Karen had observed nothing in the process so I flipped it back on and returned outside. Arthur and Karen were both watching the shed like they expected it to take off running into the woods. I just wanted to make sure nothing was going to arc over and start a fire. Satisfied this was not so, I broke their spells and asked Karen for a flashlight. She handed me the one she had used to search the patio. Clicking it on, I approached the beast. I asked the others to keep a respectful distance until I was sure it was safe. I opened the unlocked door and carefully stepped inside. There was a noticeable low-level hum from the power plant and a whisper of whirring from the fast spinning superconductor disk.

The first thing I did was look for a light. All of the lights and equipment I had seen running up to now were dead and must have been powered by the generator circuit that fed the field. The more common place light on a pull string was not to be found. I shined the flashlight around the room to see if I could locate the power outlet wired to that breaker in the basement. All I could see was the curious array of gadgets that make up Dr. Stevinson's experiment from hell. I recognized a few things from the notes I had studied but much of what I saw was like trying to explore an alien spaceship by candlelight. I called for Arthur to join me. Karen followed close behind. As I shone the light around the bottom of the walls I saw the flicker from the shinny faceplate of an electrical outlet. I could spot one a mile away. I got closer to it and to my disgust the receptacle was completely obscured by what must have been one of the generator's larger components.

"Your father has committed a mortal sin in the electrician's bible. He has obstructed the only available electrical outlet with an immovable piece of equipment," I said with dismay. I parked my very tired ass on the floor beside the computer desk. Karen parked her beautiful but equally tired ass next to mine and leaned on my shoulder. I put my arm around her and kissed her hair. Arthur looked down at us and said, "I'd join you except I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to get back up. We can't expect to do anything here tonight in the dark. That's asking for trouble. Let's attack this fresh in the morning."

With that, I grunted my agreement, stood up and then helped my lover to her feet. In respectful silence we exited the shed. I locked the door behind us and we made our way by flashlight back to the house.

"I don't know if Lars was saving this fine bottle of scotch to toast his success or just what, but he made the mistake of allowing me to know it was here, so…," Arthur poured a generous shot into each of our glasses. "I'm taking it upon myself to declare this the proper occasion to open it."

"Here, here" Karen agreed. The three of us touched glasses and triumphantly downed our shots. Arthur raised the bottle to offer another round. There were no hesitations from either of us. This time we quietly sipped as we sat around the kitchen table looking out the window at a normal back yard.

"I can't wait to get started exploring that shed." I said as I raised my glass for the last sip of this most exquisite liquor. "This is going to be fun."

"Humph!" Arthur snorted. "Let's see if you still feel that way tomorrow morning. I for one need my beauty rest. Any objections to my taking the guest room for the night?"

"Of course not" Karen assured him placing her hand on his. "You have always been free to treat this house as your second home. Nothing has changed my dear friend. Make yourself comfortable. I think we'll also call it a night. We've hardly slept and I for one am exhausted."

What she didn't say is that we hardly slept because we had spent most of the night before yelling at the shed and then engaging in serious sex. I hadn't really thought about it but we didn't get more than 3 hours sleep that previous night, or rather that morning. I was beat but I was more concerned for my darling lady. With all of the excitement of our falling in love on the one hand and the weight of responsibility trying to solve this crises here on the other combined with the emotional stress of dealing with her father's condition; God, any other woman would have been ready to fly apart! Not Karen. She was remarkable in her capacity to cope. Still, I wanted to fold her in my arms and hold her. I wanted her to know I was there for her and always would be. I wanted to show her that I realized she was a living miracle. It started to occur to me that never in my life had I felt this way about anyone. In time I came to realize that this was true for her as well. That night we didn't spend as much time making love as we did being loving. It just seemed the right balance. Besides, hell, we were bushed!

Karen and I both felt much more playful the next morning. We had almost forgotten Arthur was just down the hall, but hell, he slept well past our shenanigans and then some. In fact, it wasn't until the two of us had dressed and started breakfast that the old fellow rolled on out at about 9 AM. He walked into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway staring at us. We must have seemed an odd sight because I was the one wearing the apron and she was the one sitting at the table reading the paper. He just shook his head smiling and started rummaging for the Sunday comics. Earlier I had insisted that she unwind and let me take care of feeding us. She had done enough already. Besides, I've always had a hard time trusting anyone with my eggs but I didn't say that.

Karen had been going through the local papers looking for mention of the weekend's events. Sure enough there it was in yesterday's edition. She read to us, "'Millionaire industrialist Dr. Lars Stevinson was admitted into County General Hospital late Friday afternoon after suffering a near fatal heart attack at his rural residence off of county road 11. Hospital sources said that EMS responded to a signal from Stevinson's electronic heart monitor at 3:23 PM Friday and upon arrival at his home found him collapsed just outside his front door.' It goes on to mention that Scott and I were notified and arrived some time later. There's some stuff about the company and that's about it. I didn't see anything more in today's."

"Sounds harmless enough. Anything about our gardener, Captain Kirk?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, there's a bit about him too. Again this is from Saturday's paper, 'A local man arrived Friday evening at County General Hospital in his own car after cutting his left forearm off in what he described as an encounter with an alien force field. The identity of the man had not been released pending family notification. The man has also declined to identify the location where the accident took place proclaiming a desire to "avoid causing panic in the general population as the time of His (Jesus Christ's) arrival draws near." Doctors say that the severed arm was not recovered and that the injury was "most bizarre" due to the fact that the wound was so completely cauterized that the man showed no loss of blood. Neither hospital nor police spokespersons would offer speculation as to the likely cause of the injury other than to say it was consistent with being burned by a very powerful laser.' That was yesterday. In today's paper, they list his name and address, a bit more on his weird church and their beliefs, but still he hasn't said anything about dad or us. The police are still investigating. Not much else here."

"I think fortune has smiled quite broadly upon us so far." Said Arthur. "Unfortunately, it will not take long for someone to connect him and Lars and then we'll be looking at quite another matter."

I don't want to make it sound as though I have some sort of super human hearing or anything, but what happened next could only be attributed to the fact that in my business paying attention to things like sounds and odors while keeping your eyes pealed will save your life. At first, the faint clicking sound didn't register as a danger sign. Then, in a flash of recognition the connection was made. I looked out the kitchen window at the edge of the back yard some three feet away.

"Oh, HELL! Karen, there's some guy in the back yard taking pictures."

"Everybody stay right here," she commanded and sprinted for the library. A moment later she was outside the sliding door, off the porch and directly between the man's camera and the shed. She also had her dad's Colt leveled at the man's chest. I heard the hammer click as she cocked the weapon and took a very well practiced stance, both hands on the revolver and her right index finger hovering just above the trigger. She didn't say a word. Quickly the man raised both hands high over his head still holding his camera in one of them.

"Look, Lady, I didn't mean you any harm or anything. This is just my job. I take pictures and sell them to the paper, that's all. I'm not here to steal anything. Just lower that gun and I'll be on my way, OK? You don't want to shoot me, I haven't done anything to you." He was noticeably shaking and I wouldn't have been surprised if he was in need of a clean pair of shorts. Karen didn't move a muscle. Then the weapon discharged.

"Jesus!" I thought. "The gun must have gone off in her hands by accident!"

That's not what happened at all. There was a puff of smoke from the muzzle and the loud report of a gunshot. The revolver jerked slightly in Karen's hands but came right back to bare on her target. Again she cocked the trigger. She hadn't shot the photographer. She had blown his camera right out of his hand!

"My God, Arthur, you should have seen that shot! It was perfect."

"Oh, I'm sure it was." He replied not even looking up from the funny pages. "She's been an award winning marksman with both the side arm and the rifle from the time she was 12 years old. I can't begin to count the number of blue ribbons she has won over the years. Damn good with a bow as well."

Christ! If I ever get caught fooling around on her I might as well call it quits. Then again, she's just too awesome a woman to want anyone else. Damn good thing too. I could tell that the poor fellow staring down the barrel of that .45 had just emptied his bladder and to make matters worse Karen was now aiming squarely at his crotch.

"I think you might want to return the way you came before I plug that leak in your pants with a lead slug."

The man turned to go and Karen returned the hammer to rest and snapped the safety. I couldn't see him after he rounded the corner of the house but I heard him retching into the bushes just behind the driveway. Karen stood there with the Colt loosely resting over her shoulder in perfect Emma Peel fashion giggling at the sight. She strolled back into the house like a sassy little girl grinning ear to ear. I wasn't sure if I should take her right away or let her put the gun down first. Hell, Arthur wasn't watching anyhow. My testosterone rush subsided and I settled for a very wet kiss.

At this point Arthur did look up from his paper and said, "Well, I think that about pops our little bubble of privacy. I'm sure he'll soon be followed by massive reinforcements of both the press and perhaps the police. He may not have his pictures but he's seen enough."

"Seen what?" I asked. "What did he want a picture of anyhow, a garden shed?"

Karen walked to the window and answered, "A garden shed with a perfect circle of charred grass around it along with the skeleton of a man's forearm and hand that would appear to match the missing section of a tight lipped "alien encounter" victim's left arm and a rake handle that has been cut so cleanly as to defy explanation. That's just for starters. If he had gotten inside, I'm sure it would have revealed a lot of things that would be very hard to explain. We need a plan and we need it now."

It was concluded that somehow we needed to survey the contents of the shed as quickly as possible and then move everything down to the basement where it would be easier to study. Arthur and I opened all four windows and removed the door from its hinges for best light. Karen started on a little landscaping project we had discussed.

"Ah," Said Arthur triumphantly, "This is the main field coil housing and this is the magnetic conduit to the superconductor disk housing which should be down here under the flux concentrator. The way I see it, we need to figure out how to stop the disk from spinning and this will collapse the field in the concentrator."

"I'm wondering if it might be safer to simply dispel the charge in the field coil." I thought aloud.

"Hummmm..." Arthur considered the idea for a moment, then rejected it. "I'm afraid there's enough flux built up in the conduit to where such a charge might require hours, perhaps even days to fully dissipate." He stuck his head under the computer desk for a better look at the back of the disk housing. "I suspect that Lars had thought of a safe way to shut the generator down but hadn't had the chance to document it in his notes yet. Most of what was there was still basic theory. We have yet to find his construction plans or schematics."

He crawled back out and sat on the floor." I didn't see anything back there. Any ideas?"

"Yeah, let's look for an frigging OFF switch someplace." I was being half sarcastic, but hell, we really hadn't looked for one yet. I went over the surface of the entire generator up to the point where the wiring of the alarm switch on the patio came in from an underground conduit. From that point on I knew we were into the field generator. Exploring that would have to wait until after we had COMPLETELY disconnected the power source from it. As I scooting around on the floor I spotted something. It was a rather large leather portfolio and it was carefully hidden behind a cardboard trash box. I pulled it from it's hiding spot and flashed it at Arthur. He looked at me and in silence I opened it to reveal a jungle of documents and notes. It appeared to be a totally disorganized pile of scribbling but we both knew what we had found. Still without a word between us I leafed through the papers until I found a schematic of what could only have been the generator. I pulled it out and Arthur simply nodded his consensus. I pointed to something on the drawing. He smiled and then reached under the disk housing. I watched him feel his way around for a moment, then he yanked at something. The whirring of the disk immediately slowed and came to a stop. The hum ceased and there was now total silence in the shed. Arthur pulled his hand out from under the housing and in it was a simple flashlight battery. We both busted out laughing and this attracted Karen's attention. She entered the shed and saw us on the floor rolling in laughter tossing a D cell back and forth. I saw Karen staring wide eyed at us, so I tossed the battery to her. She caught it but continued to stare at us. She was not amused. Hell, she didn't understand yet. After a quick explanation of the past five minutes she found herself laughing just as loudly.

The thing about superconductors is that once a current is established in one, it can continue to flow almost indefinitely because there is no electrical resistance in the conductor. The generator worked on the principle that the superconductor disk, once it was set into motion, would require a very tiny amount of power to keep it going. It could therefore direct a tremendous amount of power by simply rotating at 90 degrees to the earth's magnetic field and allow that magnetic power to be collected and concentrated in other superconductive circuits for output through a rather standard high voltage electrical distribution grid. The battery served in this prototype as the source for that tiny "tickler" current and once removed the circuit was broken. The disk lost momentum and stopped. The field coils lost their source of magnetic flux from the concentrator and so the system went dead.

"Keep in mind," Arthur told me as he handed me a socket wrench, "Most of these housings are hollow. They conduct magnetic flux by virtue of their shapes and the materials they are made of. That will make disassembly appear simple but don't be misled. You must be very careful not to touch the interior of these bell housings with anything, not even your hand. Any contamination will significantly reduce their transfer efficiency. Other sections will contain angel-hair nests of wires and magnetic rods. They will disintegrate on contact! Such a situation would render the generator totally non-functional until replacements could be made and installed. Under present circumstances that would take months at best."

I nodded in agreement then added, "I might mention that it's possible significant charge may remain in several of the capacitive structures in the concentrator housing. They could be lethal. Be sure to keep your gloves on at all times and don't come into direct contact with anything in that housing."

"Right. Well then, let's get started," and Arthur addressed the first bolt with his wrench. It took us most of an hour to dismantle the generator, not because it was particularly hard work but because of the care we were compelled to exercise. Painstaking documentation was kept at every stage so we could be sure to know how to reassemble it. Each subassembly was extracted from the shed and carried down to the basement one at a time. Karen, having finished removing any physical evidence from the grounds, patrolled the perimeter to make sure we had no more unwelcome guests.

As soon as the last of the high voltage grid had been sent downstairs, I pulled the drawings for the field generator and Arthur and I started brainstorming on the best way of removing it. Compared to the power unit, the operation of this device was almost incomprehensible. But at least it would be very easy to remove in that it was contained in a single housing about a meter high and half a meter on each side. After pulling the wiring from the relays that were controlled by the alarm key box on the patio, I simply picked it up and carried it down the steps to the basement. Karen went into the shed right behind us and had the computer and all other technical hardware out within 20 minutes. I took a saw to the conduit leading to the patio and removed the relay box with its 110-volt converter and power strip. We then tossed a bit of dirt onto the floor, added some dried leaves and put all of the garden tools from the garage into the shed. I re-hung the door, closed and latched the windows and just for good measure I cracked one of the rear windowpanes for effect. Karen had taken care of the rest of the physical evidence. The circle of burnt grass had been dug up and a circle of flagstones and gravel had been installed where it used to be. Poor Dwayne's arm bones were removed and buried in the woods about a mile away. The rake handle was broken off and burned in the fireplace. Nothing remained of the once sinister situation in the back yard that had brought us all together.

With everything in the basement, it would take a search warrant to find it and even then wouldn't even look like what they were searching for. It was assumed that if such a warrant were to be served, it would be for a laser. There was no laser here or anything even remotely like a laser. Arthur and I now needed to reassemble the power generator and make it look like a part of the central heating plant if we could. The force field generator looked like cross between a big microwave oven and an industrial vacuum cleaner. In memory of Frank Zappa, I nicknamed it Chunga. Somehow I doubted if it would appear in any way laser-like so we put it on a workbench and set some cans of paint on it.

After we reassembled the generator, Arthur reinstalled the battery and the disk started to whir once again. I took a few quick meter readings. I concluded that the generator was putting out a no-load voltage of about 1500 volts of three-phase AC. Its current capacity was still a mystery and would remain so until we could figure out an appropriate dummy load to put across it. It was during this discussion with Arthur that we heard the doorbell. A moment later Karen came to the top of the steps and told us that we had company and one of them was the photographer that had watered the side lawn that morning. He had a couple of buddies with him this time. I suggested that she greet them as warmly as possible and try to make the jackass that was at the head of the pack look as foolish as she could. Arthur pulled the battery and we went upstairs.

By the time we got to the top of the stairs we could hear Karen ushering her guests in a tone of voice sweet enough to trigger a spontaneous diabetic coma. I touched Arthur's sleeve to signal him to stop and stay there with me to just listen. I thought it would be a good idea to get some gist of the conversation taking place and what Karen's story was going to be so that we could play the proper role when we made our grand entrance. As it turned out, we never had to make an appearance at all. She had it covered top to bottom without any help.

"I'm so sorry I shot at you Mr. Capp but you must admit that your story of wanting to take pictures of my daddy's back yard for the paper seemed rather far fetched to me. I mean, why on earth would you or anyone want to do that? I'm staying here alone after all and I can't assume you or any one else who enters this property is harmless. The only known occupant of the house is dying in the hospital and that makes it a good target for a thief. Would you please tell me, why did you want pictures of the back yard?"

"Oh, this is going to be good," I whispered to Arthur. "She's playing this like Zukerman plays Mozart!"

"Bob, why don't you tell the lady why you wanted pictures?" This was the voice of an older fellow, perhaps an editor.

"Glad to. First, Miss Stevinson, does the name Dwayne Pratt sound familiar to you?"

"I'm not the best with names, Mr. Capp. Why don't you dispense with the Perry Mason dialog and get to the point."

"Mr. Pratt is a gardener who works for you father and some of the other households up here on the ridge. He was admitted into the emergency room the same night as your father with a severed arm that he says was the result of his coming into contact with some sort of alien force field."

"That's very tragic!" Karen offered. "Comical, yet tragic. Is he all right?"

"It seems that he's fine for a man with one arm. Was he here the night your father had his heart attack?"

"Mr. Capp, I didn't arrive in town until about 4 PM and didn't come to this house until well after 6. I don’t remember seeing any gardener around the premises at all that night. I can tell that some work is being done around the shed because fresh gravel had been poured between the flagstones. Perhaps he had been working on that during the week. In any event, what does this have to do with his arm being cut off by an alien?" She pauses for a precisely measured beat. "Do you think I did that?"

There was some uncomfortable shifting of butts in some chairs. Karen didn't let up. "I can assure you that I'm not some laser rifle toting lady Buck Rogers. I'm confident Mr. Capp would vouch for the fact that a Colt .45 revolver is my weapon of choice." She turned to him. "I think you got a very good look at it this morning. At least I would like to think you wouldn't have soiled your pants and then lost your breakfast all over the bushes had I come out of the house with a broom yelling 'Scat!'"

"You didn't tell us that part, Bob" the third man said barely containing his amusement. He turned to Karen and asked, "Did he really do that?"

"If you know what he had for breakfast this morning you can compare that with the mess along the side of the driveway." She answered with equal amusement. "Never the less, what does this have to do with you trespassing into the back yard to take pictures? I'm still not following your logic here."

"I think the device that cut Pratt’s arm off is in that shed," Capp asserted, attempting to regain whatever dignity still remained for him. "There's a wide area of burned grass in front of the shed and the skeletal remains of a human arm under one of the windows."

Karen laughed out loud. "Well, by all means, let's go look."

At that moment Bob Capp must have known he was screwed. Karen started to goat him. "I was wondering, Mr. Capp, When a phaser cuts off an arm does it also burn all of the flesh leaving nothing but a set of bleached bones, or would the arm remain otherwise intact?" By this time they had gone outside and were beside the shed. Karen addressed one of the other men. "Didn't he say that there was part of a skeleton out here? Perhaps an animal carried it off."

"It was right here; and those stones. They weren't here this morning. There was a big arc of burned grass where these stones are now. I could see all sorts of electronic stuff through this window," and Capp stuck his face to it to look inside. Karen opened the shed door and the other two men stepped inside and looked around. They stepped back out and she shut the door.

They all watched as Capp circled the shed. "Has he worked for you very long? I think he needs a vacation," Karen confided to the older man. He looked at her apologetically and answered, "He's not really an employee of the paper. He's a freelance that sometimes brings the unusual to our attention. There have been times when he's brought us odd tales that didn't pan out. Looks like he built up something in his head that wasn't really here. I'm very sorry for this intrusion, especially on such a sad occasion."

The other fellow retrieved the dumbfounded Mr. Capp who was still circling the shed looking for his "evidence" and the trio left. As they rounded the shrubs beside the driveway, the older fellow was heard to ask Capp if he wanted to stop and retrieve his breakfast. Two of the three laughed robustly.

"I still don't think this is such a good idea fellows," Karen said tiptoeing past the candy machine.

"Oh for God's sake, Karen. You'll be practically the owner of this place once Lars passes on." Arthur insisted. "Don't act so paranoid. Show your dignity, show your forceful personality…"

"Show your badges, please." A guard ordered as they rounded the corner of the hallway toward the labs.

"Ah, good afternoon, Kevin", Arthur returned pulling his company ID badge from his shirt pocket.

"Good afternoon Dr. Tempelton. Are these your guests?"

"Why, yes. This is Karen Stevinson, the doctor's daughter and her good friend Walter Zigfield. I'll be signing them in under my personal authority."

"I'm so sorry to here about your father, Miss Stevinson. I've had the pleasure of signing him in and out of the lab area for almost ten years now. It wouldn't be the same without him."

"Thank you, Kevin" Karen responded as she added her signature to the logbook. "I hope we can all keep producing the same environment of excellence in his honor while he's away."

"Absolutely. I know I'll do my part."

Ho, boy, do I like working for myself. I don't have to listen to and especially don't have to babble this sort of gung-ho corporate bullshit. I would have made a lousy soldier. You can bet I would know a hell of a lot about potatoes by the time I got out if I had been. Arthur and this Kevin fellow started jabbering about the photos of the company picnic posted in the break room so Karen and I walked on down the hall to the restricted lab that no one but Lars was allowed access to. I tried Lars' key that we found in his office and the door opened. The guard was still distracted so we slipped on in. We didn't need the lights. We just moved quietly across the room to the door on the other side and unlocked it. We could now access the restricted lab from the R&D lab without setting off the alarm. We went on inside the R&D lab and made our way to its hall door which wasn't locked. I opened it and called down the hall.

"Arthur, are you going to join us or not?"

"Sorry!" he called back. "I need to show these folks around. Miss Stevinson will be a very important person in the company once…the inevitable happens to her father."

He came along the hall and joined us in the R&D lab.

I was a bit perturbed by all of this skulking around. "I still don't know why we couldn't just walk up to the guard and say, 'This is Dr. Stevinson's daughter who is about to become your boss. She wants to see what's inside her father's private lab,' and that's that. Honestly Arthur, why all of the cloak and dagger?"

Arthur didn't answer but crossed over to the door leading into the secure lab. He opened it and slipped inside. I followed and Karen did likewise. We found Arthur bent over a computer terminal keying in a password. He looked over his shoulder at us and started filling us in.

"I have access to this lab when Lars clears it. I even have the password to this research database because as a scientist I am his peer. However, I'm not very high along the management ladder and so without his consent I can't be here and certainly neither could either of you. Well, Karen would have access but only once Lars is gone and she is installed as the new chairman of the board. We don't have that sort of time. We need to know how Lars fabricated this high temperature superconductor and we must be able to reproduce his work before we can make any value of it. We needed access to this room today. Someone then had to occupy the guard, that was me, while someone else gained access to this lab, that being you two.

"As his notes have shown, the information on how he developed the superconductor is only located here. This is also where he formulated the ceramic. I would imagine from here the raw material was sent to our super-clean fabricating plant in New Jersey and then the disk and other components returned here. No one needed to know what they were working on. For our part, all we need to do today is verify that we can likewise formulate the raw component and that it has the necessary properties. The fabrication step isn't important for our purposes."

"Are you saying that we're going to actually cook up a batch of this stuff and make sure it works; today; right now?"

"Yes, Karen. We are going to do exactly that. Once we read through his synthesizing notes we can see how involved a process it is and if it's possible for us to just whip some up. Ah, there it is. Project Thor. 'Building the hammer of the god of thunder.' How poetic, Lars. Walter, make sure the laser printer has at least 150 sheets of paper in it."

"Looks full to me" I replied.

"Good" Arthur confirmed and started the print job going.

A moment later, we each had a copy of the lab notes and were going over them. I was a bit out of my league with the chemistry and elected to concentrate on the fabrication and testing specs. Both Walter and Karen seemed much more at home with the formulation process. It had something to do with fusing a beryllium atom on the tip of a crystal molecule and then forcing argon under high pressure to act as a bonding agent. Hell, I always thought argon was inert but it seems if you piss it off enough, it will bond with a vengeance by shedding most of an entire electron shell thus forcing it to an unstable valance level. The resulting ceramic remains superconductive up to relatively high temperatures and possesses a remarkable degree of flexibility. It wasn't quite as pliable as metal but you could form strands from it and grow it around a core. According to the notes you could also surround it in a jacket of a metal like aluminum and it would be bendable in an arc proportional to its diameter. Even I could see what this meant. We were standing at the edge of a new era as profound as the coming of electricity itself! And there I was, the only one in the group with no frigging stock in this company.

"So can we cook some of this stuff or not?" I asked impatiently.

Arthur didn't answer right away and Karen was too busy looking over the inventory to make sure all of the components were on hand. After mumbling a bit to himself he turned to Karen and asked if the stock was there. She said yes, there was enough to fabricate about 1.6 ounces of raw crystal. He then looked at me and said, "I think you should start powering up the pressure chamber because we have a 'go' for a 1.6 ounce run."

"Jeez, how are we going to do this quietly enough to keep the guard from finding us?" I wondered aloud as the chamber started humming.

"Don't worry about Kevin," Arthur assured me. "His hearing sucks."

"Great! Remind me to reassign him when I take over" Karen added.

It took about two hours of very high tech chemistry but in the end we had a 1.6-ounce blob of crystal on the end of a tungsten steel vapor-growing template.

"OK," I said, "This is where I take over. Let me slide the blob into this coil housing and we'll know very quickly whether or not we have a superconductor."

After setting up the coil chamber, I applied a very small current into the windings. Immediately the blob jumped up off the bottom of the chamber and levitated. We all smiled at each other. We had room temperature superconductivity. I moved the blob over to the nano-current testing station and inserted the probes into our sample. I aimed an infrared thermal sensor at the crystal surface and started the balanced bridge conductivity test. I had all zeros on the display to a millionth of a nano-ohm. I raised the temperature of the sample by heating the platform; 30 degrees C; 35 degrees; 40; 45; 50.

At 52.33 degrees C the display started incrementing so fast that we couldn't see the values. At 52.35 the blob was a perfect insulator with a surface resistance of more than 800 billion ohms. That was about the limit of the system's accuracy. I removed the heat, and by the time the reading dropped to 52.32 the displays read all zeros again. We had done it!

We quickly shut everything off and cleaned up after ourselves. Arthur set the door of the R&D lab to lock behind us but before I left I dropped 1.6 ounces of superconductor into my shirt pocket as a keepsake. I should have known better. Less than 3 months later I would find myself faking a big smile for the cameras as I donate the chunk to the Smithsonian.

Karen and I set on the couch in the library somewhat curled up together in one corner. I gently stroked her hair and she my arm. The fire was glowing in front of us. We each had a scotch from that legendary bottle found the night before giving us a bit of a glow from the inside as well. Arthur had poured one for himself and was comfortably nested in the chair he tended to sit in whenever he was there. We all looked at the fire and enjoyed the quiet for a while. Finely, Arthur said to Karen, "Well, my dear girl, what do we do now? The call is yours."

"I'm open to suggestion."

"I have an observation." I announced.

"By all means." she said.

"We have the invention of the century in the superconductor. I think we should shelve the rest of it for now."

Arthur set strait up in his chair. "Excuse me?"

"Well, think about it. We've gone over the drawings for the generator and know it cold. The truth is that there isn't a grad student in physics worth a damn that couldn't come up with exactly the same design. There isn't anything remarkable at all about it other than the fact that it works. The only reason it does is because it can use the invention of all inventions, the high temperature superconductor. As for the force field, that puppy is way too dangerous to allow out of the box in its current incarnation. In the wrong hands it could be so unbelievably dangerous as well as so completely unstoppable that I shutter to think about it. Now the generator follows logically from the superconductor. The field doesn't. It could have been designed using conventional power systems and standard superconductors but it hasn't been. Lars came up with it only to protect his other inventions."

I sat up on the couch. Karen was looking at me like I was some sort of guru pontificating on the meaning of the universe. Arthur was beginning to see my point as well. I rolled the glass back and forth in my hands for a moment, then choosing my words carefully, continued, "This is what I would do. Tomorrow, announce the development of a high temp superconductor and credit your father but imply that the three of us were co-developers. That will give us the clout to take over the project no questions asked. We need to because there is so much more to this project than anyone else can be allowed to know. We file for the patents as of tomorrow morning. By later in the week we should be ready to file for patents on the generator but not imply that a prototype is already built and tested. As I said, any geek could design it given the new materials at hand. We just need to be the first to file. Nothing else matters. The announcement of the prototype can come later when we know better which way the other major industries are likely to come down on the issue. Perhaps a partnering arrangement with one or more of the current big players in the energy business would be wise and provide a greater chance of survival to the project as a whole. Remember, as long as we hold the patent, who cares if it's us or someone else that sticks their necks out and tries to actually sell the sucker. We get paid either way.

"As for the force field, well, I say let Dwayne's aliens take it back into space with them. In time I think it would be a good idea to restart the project VERY quietly and see if we can make it more stable and less lethal. If we can, then any subsequent application by the military would be defensive and not offensive as it could be now. Other industries such as banking and warehousing could also buy into it. For now I say we don't let it out of the box until be can both keep it from hurting people and we have a way to neutralize it, even if only we know about it. Call it a failsafe or something, but there must be a way to bypass it before we can in all conscience make it available. Again, we can patent the principles but hell, Arthur, you've seen the sucker and all of the docs on it. It's from another galaxy. Lars was a visionary to come up with the idea. I'm willing to bet a bunch of potential profit that no one else comes up with it before we're ready to make it public. One way or the other I feel it's worth it from a moral standpoint not to be the ones to unleashed this breath of hell onto the world. That counts for something in my book, call me an imperfect capitalist if you must."

I was done. I had said my say and it was up to the lady I loved to judge my logic. I would have stood by her no matter what she had decided but she looked at me and said simply, "We do it your way."

I waited for Arthur to say something. He took a sip of his scotch and said, "I agree, Karen. In fact, now that I think about it I don't see any other way to do this without screwing it up. I realize that you don't need my input or approval but you have it never the less. I suggest we draw up contractual documents that legitimize our collective claim to this discovery and use it as grounds to leverage power in the company. Let's do it tonight. I'll call Lars' attorney right now."

We all agreed and Arthur reached for the phone. Before he could get there, it rang. He went ahead and answered it.

"Lars residence. Yes it is. Yes. Just a moment."

He looked sadly at Karen. "It's the hospital for you my dear."

She took the phone. There was a short but very quiet exchange and then she hung up. She turned to us and announced, "Daddy died a few moments ago; at 5:13 PM."

I went to her and bundled her up in my arms. She wept for a moment and then asked if I would drive her to the hospital. I looked to Arthur and he nodded his acknowledgement that he would come with us.

After spending a moment alone with her father, Karen signed papers, made calls and set arrangements into motion. Obviously she had been preparing for this moment for the past few days and had it very clear in her mind what had to be done and how it was going to go. As I said, I have never known anyone in my life with her power to focus on what had to be done regardless of the circumstances. She asked Arthur and I to handle the business contracts we had discussed and she went on about the task of dealing with her loss.

Being Sunday, everyone we needed to talk to could be found at home. The documents were drawn up and ready to sign by 9 PM. Karen had finished her task, including contacting her brother who asked she call back when she had a funeral date set. All other friends and family were much more supportive. We dined very lightly at a Cantonese restaurant that evening. Conversation was mostly about Lars. I just listened as Arthur and Karen amused me with tails of his antics. I wish I could have known him.

Karen had a faint smile on her face as she said, "Odd isn't it that he would die just as all of our ducks would finely fall in a row. It was like he was waiting around to see how we would handle all of this and when he saw everything was going to work out fine, he let go."

"I wouldn't put it past him that he set the whole thing up to happen just as it did to force us to come to these conclusions. It would be just like him, "quipped Arthur. "I imagine he will be on hand for the big announcement tomorrow as well."

"He wouldn't missed it" Karen mused.

The rest of the evening's discussion centered around the next morning's business. At 8 AM the last will and testament of Dr. Lars Stevinson was to be read at the office of Lars, and now our attorney. At that moment she would become the majority stockholder in the company with just under 36%. After discussing business at the hospital that evening with her two aunts and two uncles, she was promised certificates to exercise proxy voting control over an additional 24%. With 60%, she could run the company as she saw fit unopposed. Karen also told us she had spoken with the CEO of the company and informed him that we would be there tomorrow at 10 AM sharp and to have the press on hand. She described his turning white as a sheet and how she felt compelled to assure him that she wasn't going to be firing anybody tomorrow. We had a good laugh over that. A glass of wine later, Arthur bid us a warm goodnight and departed for his own home. Karen and I went to what had quickly become ours.

That night we made love very slowly and very sweetly. There was a lot of soft delicate kissing, gentle touching and rocking and wide-eyed, fully embraced climaxing. We held each other and offered words of love and commitment together. For all intents and purposes, our loving that night was a wedding. At that moment I saw her as clearly as my wife as any ceremony could have revealed her to me. She took me as her husband as completely that night as any document could have declared me. We both knew this was for love. We both knew this was for life.

We slept that night as one. We rose the next morning focused on our life as a couple and on our future as partners in a revolution that was about to change the world forever.

Arthur met us at our attorney's office at 8 and the will was read. There were no surprises except that Lars had given his mother-of-pearl inlaid cribbage board expressly to Arthur. He gave him other things as well, but the giving of that playing board over which they had shared so many of their brightest personal moments together made him weep. Karen put her arm around him and shed a few tears as well. After the personal effects were settled, the business of business was at hand. Karen received the house providing that she would offer his siblings a share in the furnishings as she saw fit. As expected, she also received all of Lars holdings in the company as well as control over his other financial affairs. Through these, she was charged with caring for her asshole brother's trust which she could transfer to him on his 30^th birthday. Karen had little faith that he would be in any better condition to handle it then than he was now, but there you go.

This business settled, she dispatched copies of our collaboration agreement by courier to the company so they would be fully briefed before we arrived. Arrive we did just before 10 and we met with the board for a few moments before the press conference. Needless to say, we were greeted VERY warmly! Karen quickly dissolved the current board and just as quickly re-nominated all of the former members and added Arthur and myself. She then proceeded to elect herself chairman and it was done. According to the articles of incorporation for the company, this kind of action could be carried by a majority vote which she held single handed and required no further blessing from the rest of the stock holders. This was typical of small private companies that mushroom into large public companies. Arthur, already an old face, was thus elevated to sainthood. Karen was declared as the new hand of God and I as Gabriel. There was no problem with our demand for secrecy and the taking over of Lars' lab. Hell, they didn't care what we wanted. They were all about to see the value of their stock shoot through the roof in about 3 minutes. After way too much hand pumping and backslapping, we addressed the press.

Karen took her place at the podium to make the announcement that changed history. She started by publicly announcing the passing of her father. A few moments were taken to mention a few of the many things he had done for the company and the community. She then announced her assignation to the chair and the addition of the two of us as to the board. Then the bombshell was dropped.

"One of the things my father was very interested in was the development of practical superconductors to help power our nation into the 21^st century and beyond. Building on my father's work, Dr. Arthur Tempelton, Mr. Walter Zigfield and myself have just completed testing of the first high temperature superconductor. This substance maintains its superconductive properties to just above 50 degrees Celsius. What's more, it can be either grown or drawn into flexible filament shapes that allow this material to be used as core windings and conductive cabling, both being applications that have eluded current superconductors preventing them from fulfilling the promise of their potential. These short fallings now overcome, we will very soon be offering this material in a variety of forms to meet the needs of many industrial and consumer markets. The world as we know it has, this very day, changed forever. Welcome to the future. Thank you."

There were the usual questions. Karen answered them most aptly. Suddenly there came a question out of left field. A reporter for a local TV station wanted to know if her father's gardener, one Dwayne Pratt, had, to her knowledge, come in contact with any of her father's experiments into superconductivity that might explain the loss of his arm. Wow! We never saw that coming.

"I understand," she said without missing a beat, "that Mr. Pratt lost his arm, by his accounts, during an attack by extraterrestrials." There was a hushed laughter from the crowd of reporters. She smiled broadly and continued, "I can assure you, nether my father nor we have ever entered into any kind of partnership agreements with extraterrestrial interests. I can also assure you that this technology was developed right here in our on-site lab facilities. I'm sure Mr. Pratt will be the first to tell you that a 1.6-ounce sample of superconductive crystals did not eat his arm. Thank you all. Good morning." And she left the podium before any more surprises could be tossed at her.

She walked over to me and smiled. Through her smiling teeth she said, "Let's get the hell out of here!" and we did. We said our good-byes to the other members of the board and avoided the press that loitered in the lobby.

Arthur informed us that he felt like taking the rest of the day off and was going to go play golf. I couldn't blame him. His whole weekend had been shot to hell and back, so he was due. As for us on this very eventful Monday, nothing sounded better than a short trip into town for something simple like a movie. What the hell, I hadn't been to a movie in so long I couldn't remember the last one I saw.. Later, we got dressed up to go to a high-class dinner club where we could bask in the decadence of our surroundings. On the way I asked her if she would mind if I made a short side trip to the mall.

This time she gave me one of those "what did you have to drink today" looks, but I insisted. She granted the favor. I left her browsing through a bookstore while I vanished up to the second level. After a bit, I came back with something wrapped that I told her she would just have to wait until after dinner to see.

We dined lavishly. Later, when we got back to the house she demanded to see what was in the package. I set one box on the bed and placed the other, much smaller box in her hand. She opened the small one first. In it was a ring. I had seen this ring before and had always liked it. Someplace in the back of my mind I swore that if ever I fell in love again this ring would be my messenger. Tonight it was.

After a few moments of wide-eyed excitement, I placed it on her hand and asked her to be my wife. She agreed without a second thought. We kissed and cuddled for a moment until she remembered the second package. I gave to her. She removed the wrapping and found a box bearing the logo of Frederick's of Hollywood. She gave me a look like she knew we were about to have a bunch of fun. She opened it. Inside were the loveliest pair of silk crotchless panties money could buy. I told her how I had carried the image of her wearing them from the first night we met after hearing her brother's comment. She put on a very big grin, that "sinful look" I mentioned before.

"Let me disappear into the dressing room and put these on - and nothing else!" She giggled a bit as she walked out. I started getting undressed too. A few minutes later she walked sensuously back into the room; I started a Pat Metheny CD.