Dr. Tom Parker was a NASA psychiatrist, and the I Dream of Jeannie jokes never stopped. After almost ten years with the program, Parker had dozens of glass bottles similar to the one Jeannie called home, as well as autographed pictures of most of the cast and several of Sidney Sheldon’s scripts.

He adjusted the webcam on top of his laptop to accommodate the request of Bill Harris, his current patient.

“That’s better,” Harris said from Wilson/George. “I was seeing a picture of Larry Hagman but hearing your voice.”

“He’s better looking at least,” Parker quipped.

“Leave the camera on Barbara Eden and you’ll make my day.”

“So we were talking about the other members of your team. You leave Antarctica in a couple of days. What’s their mood?”

“Disappointed, actually,” the astronaut said. “A front’s closed in on us. The weather boys at McMurdo say it’s only going to last a few days, but we’ve all seen the data. The storm’s covering damned-near all of Antarctica. We’re socked in for a week or more, and then it’ll take a few more days to clear their runway and ours.”

“How do you feel about it?” Parker asked. He and the former test pilot had spoken enough over the past months to have an honest dialogue. He knew Harris wouldn’t sugarcoat his answer.

“Same as everyone else,” Bill said. “It’s tough when a goal gets pushed back on you, but this is what we’re here for, right?”

“Exactly. I especially want to know how this has affected Andy Gangle.”

“Since he can’t wander outside anymore, he’s pretty much stayed in his room. To be honest, I haven’t seen him in twelve or more hours. The last time was in the rec room. He was just passing through. I asked him how he was, he muttered ‘Fine’ and kept on going.”

“Would you say his antisocial behavior has gotten worse?”

“No,” Bill said. “It’s about the same. He was antisocial when he got here and he’s antisocial now.”

“I know you’ve mentioned you’ve tried to engage him over the last few months. Has anyone else?”

“If someone has, they’ve been shot down. I said before, I think the screeners who allowed him to winter down here made a mistake. He’s not cut out for this kind of isolation, at least not as a functioning part of a team.”

“But, Bill,” Parker said, leaning closer to his laptop camera for emphasis, “what happens if you’re on the space station or halfway to the moon when you realize that the doctors who screened your crewmates made a similar mistake?”

“Are you saying you’re going to screw up?” Harris asked with a chuckle.

“No,” Parker grinned, “but the other members of the screening committee might. So what would you do?”