From the way George sent the gyrocar into a long swoop that ended inside the garage, Laura Briggs knew her husband was angry and she braced herself for battle. But she wasn't quite prepared for such an immediate outburst, the moment he got in the door.
"Stoops!" he cried, robbed of slamming the door because of the automatic permaglass cushion. Timmy scurried away, frightened at this aspect of his father. "The psychocenter we've got to go to yet!"
The electrocooker had dinged a minute ago, and Mrs. Briggs was ready to take everything out and put it on the table, but she could only look at him in amazement. "You're not making sense!"
"Ha!" George's heavy eyebrows hovered high in his forehead, then plunged down over his eyes. His big face was crimson, his blue eyes steely. "Neither are they, and they called just before I left the office. Wouldn't tell me why. Have you done anything?"
"Well—" Mrs. Briggs started tentatively and he gave her a sharp look. "It's about the Elroom."
"The Elroom!"
She told him about the visit of Miss Pomeroy. "She must have reported it."
"Then we'll get rid of the damned thing!" His eyes brightened. "I told you we should have gotten a new car instead."
"But we've got a car, George."
"Not a good one." He leaned against the cooker, his face blissful. "Imagine us—us—driving a new Caddie gyro—room for eight, you know—supersonic drive—sleek, too—we could get a red one—you'd like red, wouldn't you?—a thousand horsepower with twin turbos for level flight—and those off-center firing tubes with folding back overhead vertical flight pins—Gad!"