The Wailing Asteroid | Page 3

hydroponic job. A rich man's
house could have one or more walls which looked like a grassy sward
stood on edge, with occasional small flowers or even fruits growing
from its close-clipped surface. Interiors, Inc., would push the idea of a
bomb shelter or in an atomic submarine where it would cation.{sic}
It was done. A production-job room-wall had been shipped and the
check for it banked. Burke had toyed with the idea that growing
vegetation like that might be useful in a bomb shelter or in an atomic
submarine where it would keep the air fresh indefinitely. But such ideas

were for the future. They had nothing to do with now. Now Burke was
going to triumph over an obsessive dream.
"I've got something to say, Sandy," said Burke painfully.
She did not turn her head. There was moonlight, rippling water, and the
tranquil noises of the night in springtime. A perfect setting for what
Burke had in mind, and what Sandy knew about in advance. She waited,
her eyes turned away from him so he wouldn't see that they were
shining a little.
"I'm something of an idiot," said Burke, clumsily. "It's only fair to tell
you about it. I'm subject to a psychological gimmick that a girl I-- Hm."
He coughed. "I think I ought to tell you about it."
"Why?" asked Sandy, still not looking in his direction.
"Because I want to be fair," said Burke. "I'm a sort of crackpot. You've
noticed it, of course."
Sandy considered.
"No-o-o-o," she said measuredly, "I think you're pretty normal, except--
No. I think you're all right."
"Unfortunately," he told her, "I'm not. Ever since I was a kid I've been
bothered by a delusion, if that's what it is. It doesn't make sense. It
couldn't. But it made me take up engineering, I think, and..."
His voice trailed away.
"And what?"
"Made an idiot out of me," said Burke. "I was always pretty crazy
about you, and it seems to me that I took you to a lot of dances and
such in high school, but I couldn't act romantic. I wanted to, but I
couldn't. There was this crazy delusion..."
"I wondered, a little," said Sandy, smiling.

"I wanted to be romantic about you," he told her urgently, "But this
damned obsession kept me from it."
"Are you offering to be a brother to me now?" asked Sandy.
"No!" said Burke explosively. "I'm fed up with myself. I want to be
different. Very different. With you!"
Sandy smiled again.
"Strangely enough, you interest me," she told him. "Do go on!"
But he was abruptly tongue-tied. He looked at her, struggling to speak.
She waited.
"I w-want to ask you to m-m-marry me," said Burke desperately. "But I
have to tell you about the other thing first. Maybe you won't want..."
Her eyes were definitely shining now. There was soft music and
rippling water and soft wind in the trees. It was definitely the time and
place for romance.
But the music on the car radio cut off abruptly. A harsh voice
interrupted:
"Special Bulletin! Special Bulletin! Messages of unknown origin are
reaching Earth from outer space! Special Bulletin! Messages from outer
space!"
Burke reached over and turned up the sound. Perhaps he was the only
man in the world who would have spoiled such a moment to listen to a
news broadcast, and even he wouldn't have done it for a broadcast on
any other subject. He turned the sound high.
"This is a special broadcast from the Academy of Sciences in
Washington, D. C." boomed the speaker. "Some thirteen hours ago a
satellite-tracking station in the South Pacific reported picking up
signals of unknown origin and great strength, using the microwave
frequencies also used by artificial satellites now in orbit around Earth.

The report was verified shortly afterward from India, then Near East
tracking stations made the same report. European listening posts and
radar telescopes were on the alert when the sky area from which the
signals come rose above the horizon. American stations have again
verified the report within the last few minutes. Artificial signals, plainly
not made by men, are now reaching Earth every seventy-nine minutes
from remotest space. There is as yet no hint of what the messages may
mean, but that they are an attempt at communication is certain. The
signals have been recorded on tape, and the sounds which follow are
those which have been sent to Earth by alien, non-human, intelligent
beings no one knows how far away."
A pause. Then the car radio, with night sounds and the calls of
nightbirds for background, gave out crisp, distinct fluting noises, like
someone playing an arbitrary selection of musical notes on a strange
wind instrument.
The effect was plaintive, but Burke stiffened in every