"No," Hicks said. A spark went off in his head. Something intuited. The boy's accent was urban, middle-western bland. His voice was resonant and he sounded convinced and rational, words crisp. "You could be a complete nut, whoever you are," Hicks said.

"You said you'd take them home to meet your mom. Your mother. They heard you out around Europa. When they were building. Now they're here. I found one dissecting a mouse, Mr. Hicks. Learning all about it. I think they want to help, but I'm very confused. They haven't hurt me."

Hicks remembered: he had made that statement in California, on a local radio show. It would have been very difficult for a midwestern teenager to have heard it.

There was something earnest and truly awed and frightened in the young man's voice. Hicks glanced at the ceiling, licking his lips, realizing he had already made his decision.

He had always been something of a romantic. To stay in journalism so long, one had to secretly believe in events full of drama and significance, key moments, points of turnaround in history. He was beginning to shake with excitement. Instincts conflicting—reporter's instincts, survival instincts.

"Can you come out to the hotel?" he asked.

"Yeah, I can take a cab."

"I'll meet you in the lobby. I'd rather be careful, you know. I'll be in the middle of lots of people." He hoped the lobby was crowded. "How will I know you?"

"I'm tall, like a basketball player. I'm black. I'll be in an old green army coat."

"All right," Hicks said. "In an hour?"

"I'll be there."

PERSPECTIVE

KNBC man-in-the-street interview,

December 15, 1996,

conducted at the gate to the Universal Studios tour "Earthbase 2500" attraction:

Anchor: We're asking people what they think about the President's proclamation.

Middle-aged Man (Laughs): I don't know . . . I can't make heads or tails, can you? (Cut away)

Anchor: Excuse me, we're asking people what they think about the President's statement that the Earth is going to be destroyed.

Young Woman: He's crazy, and they should get him out of office. There aren't any such things as what he' s talking about.

Anchor: Standing here, in the shadow of a giant invading spacecraft, its weapons aimed at the crowd, how can you be so sure?

Young Woman: Because I'm educated, dammit. He's crazy and he shouldn't be in office.

Anchor (Moving on to an adolescent boy) : Excuse me. What do you think of the President's statement that aliens have landed and are intent on destroying the Earth?

Adolescent Boy: It scares me.

Anchor: Is that all?

Adolescent Boy: Isn't that enough?

Chapter 41

41

What Arthur saw, in the bed, was already a ghost: thin wrinkled arms pale on the counterpane, face blotched, pale translucent green oxygen tube going to his nose, drugs seeping into his arm controlled by a small blue box with a flat-screen readout.