The five saucers, in V-formation, careened into the atmosphere. They circled the planet, slowing. The leader peered at a floating needle in a spherical container of liquid. The needle vibrated in answer to the beam of interference it was attuned to. The silver tip wobbled back and forth across the target.
The ships leveled out over the Rocky Mountains. Losing altitude, they hurtled on a sloping trajectory toward Washington.
Across the Great Plains. Across the turgid, swollen Mississippi River. Across the Appalachians, worn and old.
They slowed. The controls became more sluggish.
They hovered over Washington. The needle dipped.
Below, white and massive with afternoon sunlight, the Washington Monument, the tallest piece of masonry on the planet, loomed up between The Ellipse and the Tidal Basin, towering 555 feet into the air: standing rooted and solid and defiant.
Walt felt them.
"Mutants from my compartment!" he cried.
Instantly all activity in the laboratory ceased. It resumed almost immediately, pointless and frantic, now.