The Stutterer | Page 6

the highway, the boy was gathering the berries back into his
basket while he tried to make his mind up.
* * * * *
Jordan reached Earth atmosphere about two o'clock in the afternoon.
He immediately reported in to the Terrestrial police force, and via the
teledepth screen spoke with a bored lieutenant. The lieutenant, after
listening to Jordan's account of his mission, assured him without any
particular enthusiasm of the willingness of the Terrestrial forces to
coöperate, and of more value, gave him the location of all licensed
sources of radiation in the western hemisphere.
The galactic agent set eagerly to work, and in the next several hours
uncovered two unlisted radiation sources, both of which he promptly
investigated. In one case, north of Eugene, he found in the backyard of
a metal die company a small atomic pile. The owner was using it as an
illegal generator of electricity, and when he saw Jordan snooping about
with his detection instruments, he immediately offered the agent a
sizable bribe. It was a grave mistake since Jordan filed charges against
him, via teledepth, not only for evading taxes, but also for attempted
bribery.
The second strike seemed more hopeful. He picked up strong radiation
in a rather barren area of Montana; however when he landed, he found
that it was arising from the earth itself. From a short conversation with
the local authorities, he learned that the phenomenon was well known:
an atomic fission plant had been destroyed at that site during the Third
World War.
He was flying over the lovely blue water of Lake Bonneville, when his
teledepth screen flickered. He flipped the switch on and the lieutenant's
picture flooded in.
"I have a call I think you ought to take," the Earth official said. "It
seems as though it might be in your line. It's from a sheriff in a small
town in California. I'll have the operator plug him in."

* * * * *
Abruptly the picture switched to that of a stout red-faced man wearing
the brown uniform of a county peace officer.
"You're the galactic man?" the sheriff asked.
"Yes. My name is Tom Jordan," Jordan said.
"Mine's Berkhammer." It must have been warm in California because
the sheriff pulled out a large handkerchief and mopped his brow. When
he was done with that he blew his nose loudly. "Hay fever," he
announced.
"Want to see my credentials?"
"Oh sure, sure," the sheriff hastily replied. He scrutinized the card and
badge that Jordan displayed. After a moment, he said, "I don't know
why I'm looking at those. They might be fakes for all I know. Never
saw them before and I'll probably never see them again."
"They're genuine."
"The deuce with formality," the sheriff said heavily. "There's some kid
around here who thinks he saw that ... that machine you're supposed to
be looking for."
"When was that?" Jordan asked.
"About four hours ago. Here, I'll let you talk to him yourself." He
pulled his big bulk to one side, and a boy and his father walked into the
picture. The boy was red-eyed, as though he had been crying. The
father was a tall, stoop-shouldered farmer, dressed like his son in
plastic overalls.
* * * * *
The sheriff patted the boy on the back. "Come on, Jimmy. Tell the man
what you saw."

"I saw him," the boy said sullenly. "I walked up the highway with him."
Jordan leaned forward toward the screen.
"How did you know who he was?"
"I knew because when he stepped on the ground, he sank into it up to
his knee. He tried to say the ground was soft, but it was hard. I know it
was hard."
"Why did you wait so long to tell anybody?" Jordan asked softly.
The boy looked at him with defiance and dislike in his eyes and kept
his small mouth clamped shut.
His father nudged him roughly in the ribs.
"Answer the man," he commanded.
Jimmy looked down at his shoes.
"Because he asked me not to tell for a while," he said curtly.
"Stubborn as nails," the father said not without pride in his voice. "Got
more loyalty to a lousy machine than to the whole human race."
"Which way did he go, Jimmy?"
"Toward Red Mountain. I think maybe to the power house. He asked
me where it was."
"What do you think he wants with that?" the sheriff asked of Jordan.
Jordan shrugged and shook his head.
"Maybe it's all in the kid's head," the sheriff suggested. "These wild
teledepth programs they look at give them all kinds of ideas."
"It isn't in my head," Jimmy said violently. "I saw him. He stepped on

the ground and stuck his foot into it. I talked to him.