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〃You tell me；〃 she began。 〃It ain't too hot on absorbing neutrons； for one thing。 I'm double…checking； but I'll tell you： the moderator characteristics are really screwy。 And if the water doesn't slow this fission properly； there isn't enough of it in the world to keep your baby cool。〃
〃Yeah； well； thanks for the good news。〃
〃That's what I'm here for；〃 she replied。 Becky date…labeled the beaker with the coolant sample and shelved it next to other dated containers。 Then she went over to her puter terminal to double…check on moderator characteristics。
Slowly； the striations began to undulate； assuming a definitive pattern。 The patterns became much clearer； as the oily striations began to swoop and dip and swirl。
Over and over； over and over； over and over。
A figure…eight pattern。
Twenty seconds later； the liquid in the other beakers did； too。
Back in the reactor control room； Roger Sykes was beyond pissed。 He was getting nervous。 〃What do you think？〃 he asked Jenkel。
〃Not sure；〃 Fred said； looking a lot more worried than he sounded。 〃Dilution accident； maybe。〃 He pondered the point。 〃If untreated water got into the feed supply 。。。 〃
Sykes paled a little； pleting the thought。 God； throwing untreated water on a hot core would be like dousing a fire with gasoline。
Sykes hit a switch and activated the acoustical monitoring system； a series of strategically placed microphones that relayed the sound ing from the inside of the reactor vessel to the control room。
A deafening roar spilled out of the monitor speakers； the sound of coolant water pummeling the core into obedience。 Henkel； Jenkel； and Sykes leaned forward； scrutinizing the rumbling wall of noise。
Jenkel was the first to notice。 〃There；〃 he said。 〃Do you hear that？〃
Henkel and Sykes cocked an ear toward the sound。 It hit them within seconds of one another。 〃Jesus；〃 Sykes whispered； as the fleshy pan of his neck prickled with dread。
It was an eerie barbed filigree of sound that rose and fell and twisted； not beneath the roar or behind it but somehow in it； a frequency…shifting inside the water…sound。 As they listened one thing became clear。 It was no accident。 It was too plex and multi…timbral； too 。。。 intelligent。
The reactor was singing。
It was the scariest thing they'd ever heard。
〃No； no no。〃 Henkel sat in his chair； mumbling a mantra of pure denial； as though it were up to a vote。 〃No； no； no； no。 Not liking this。 Not one bit。〃
The sound reminded him of something he'd read back in college； something about seductive creatures who lived in the water and sang to the sailors in passing ships。 He reached into the recesses of memory for the name； felt it slap him in the face as it came back。
Sirens。
While over the speaker； under the water； an amorphous mesmerizing chorus shifted in and out of focus。
Luring them onto the rocks 。。。
〃Shit； what do we do now？〃 Henkel said； looking like a man who wished he'd gone into another line of work。
Behind them； Sykes paced in tight little circles； the engineer in him butting heads with the manager until it produced a whanging headache。 In the event of an emergency the utility's unwritten policy was to stay on…line until the shit hit the fan； and not to go public until things were either under control or uncontrollable。 In the post…Three Mile Island industry； emergency procedures were clear as they were limiting： do not guess。 Do not diagnose。 Treat the symptoms only。
And hope that that's enough。
Sykes looked at the clock。 Twelve fifty…eight。 〃The hell with this；〃 he said。 〃Trip it。〃
He turned to Jenkel。 〃Shut down； run a systems check； and isolate the problem。 I want this thing up and back on…line ASAP。
〃Bob；〃 he turned； singling out the younger man； 〃get ready to open up the auxiliary feed lines and start pumping。 Make sure we maintain the shutdown margin。〃 He looked around。 〃I'm notifying Biles。 The clock starts now。〃
He looked around。 〃Well； what are you waiting for？〃
Henkel nodded； relieved。 〃Not a thing。〃 He went over to the switch…bank。 〃Shutting her down；〃 he said。 〃Now。〃
Henkel cut power； and inadvertently held his breath。
。。。 While deep in the reactor vessel； hundreds of yards away； the magnetic ratcheting mechanism de…energized。 Over the monitor came a massive pressed roar as several tons of control rods slammed into the coolant pool； obliterating the song。
At twelve fifty…nine precisely； they shut the reactor down。
At 1 p。m。； it started back up。
All on its own。
Twenty…One
Home； such as it was； was a low…slung postmodern split…level with a shared private drive； snug on the low tolling hills of the country club's sixteenth hole。
Inside； Blake retreated to his study。 It was a quiet sanctuary with a southern exposure； recently redone in ebony inlay； burnished oak； and cloth…bound special editions。 A small fire crackled in the zero…clearance fireplace； scenting the air with hickory and redwood； a pair of bronze dogs nestled before it on the sprawling hand…carved Aubusson rug； positioned so as to gaze with blind； doting eyes on the face of their master。
Blake settled in behind his expansive antique barrister's desk and brought thumb and forefinger up to pinch the bony ridge between his eyes。 A tumbler of Chivas and a bottle of Tylenol sat before him； awaiting ingestion。
He had a slight tension headache。 Nothing serious； but enough to put him out of sorts。 Carol had toddled off to her tennis lessons after performing her perfunctory wifely duties； downstairs the stereo thudded with the ceaseless caterwauling their deadbeat son called music。
Butthole something…or…anothers； Blake winced in recognition； he was almost able to distinguish some of them from each other at this point； through sheer osmosis。
He sighed mightily； his family was his bane。 In the euphemistic lexicon of talk…show shrinks； they were dysfunctional； in reality； they simply hated each other。
Not that their hate was simple。 Indeed； it was a richly textured blend of disappointment； spoiled ideals； and abcessed emotion； a lifetime in the making。 Werner's climb up Country Club Road had been at the expense of much toil； many long hours at the office and on the road。 He broke his back to provide the best of everything for his loved ones； only to have it thrown back in his face。
Which left contempt as the linchpin of the Blake family dynamic。 It was virtually the only thing they shared。
Fortunately； the house was large and sprawling； big enough to contain three lives that crossed only when forced； big enough to afford him space and the peace to contemplate the business at hand。
First and foremost； a follow…up call。
Blake punched the number into the speakerphone； downed two caplets； and waited patiently as it patched through。
〃Hello？〃 A child answered； a young girl； from the sound of it。 Very young。 Thea； he recalled； Blake made a point of always remembering names。
〃Hello； Thea；〃 he said； modulating his tones。 〃Is your daddy in？〃
〃Nope。〃
〃Can I speak to your mommy； please？〃
〃Hokay。〃 A muffled Mommmeee！
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