Mrs. Upjohn was in her room. With an embarrassed dismissal of thanks Mrs. Frisbee presented the blanket to her, then hurried to catch the bus at the corner.
The corridor clock showed a few minutes to midnight as Mrs. Frisbee, carrying her mop and pail, entered the control room. At the slight noise Dr. Morrow looked up from his paper-littered desk. A vague smile and wave were directed generally in her direction. With a glance at his watch he sighed and returned to his work. Mrs. Frisbee waited patiently and quietly. A few minutes later Dr. Morrow looked up again, then yawned and stretched luxuriously.
"Time for lunch, I guess." He stood up, setting a few dials on the glistening control panel before him. "See you in forty-five minutes," he called cheerily.
With the sound of his heels echoing down the hall, Mrs. Frisbee gingerly sat down in his chair. Taking a sheet of paper from her apron, she meticulously marked down the dial settings, exactly as he had left them.
Except for the diminishing sound of footsteps, the laboratory building was silent, with the unique quiet of a deserted structure. Through the window she could see the gigantic antenna aiming toward the stars. As always she experienced a momentary thrill of combined excitement and reverential awe.
She waited till she heard the closing of the front door of the building. Then with practiced fingers she flicked some switches. The equipment hummed quietly. She swung toward the keyboard and began picking out letters with her forefingers. Finally she took a page from a mail-order catalogue from her purse and slowly typed out the catalogue numbers. She didn't hurry. Dr. Morrow would now be finishing his lunch in his car. Afterwards he would take a stroll around the laboratory grounds. He was a man of regular, dependable habit.
It had all begun one evening about five months before, when Mrs. Frisbee had attended a revivalist meeting. Simple soul that she was, with her increasing years and the passing of many of her friends, Mrs. Frisbee had begun to experience a desire to make peace with her maker.
"You are all sinners," the preacher had thundered, "and you need the most powerful voice in the world to speak for you!"
It made quite an impression!