It was dawn before the first signal generator began operation. It was Sunday.
Julia sat at a desk, sipping coffee, holding a book suspended in front of her, six inches from the desk top. The last twenty-four hours had left a strain on her face. When the book fell, her mutant powers would be gone.
Smoking cigarette after cigarette, Dr. Norvel watched. After nearly fifteen minutes, she pleaded, "Drop, damn you, drop!"
Work on the second generator continued. It was at least half a day away from completion. There was a continual mutter of conversation about it in the background.
An hour later, sweat covered Julia's face. The book was still suspended.
"Put in the next frequency range unit," Dr. Norvel said wearily.
A general bustled in. "General Tibbets wants to know how we're doing here."
Silence greeted him.
"The paratroopers are ready," the general said defensively.