"Look, Henry, our suits may spread eagle, but they don't scream."
"Seventeen men on the Moon say they do."
"Must have been defective radios oscillating."
"They cut them off. The suits are haunted. You know what happens to a ship or piece of equipment when something like that starts around. It doesn't have to make sense."
"Henry, we'll —"
But the screen was suddenly blank. Kimberly was saved the necessity of trying to think just what they'd do at the moment.
He put his head between his hands and groaned. He felt as if a large meteorite had rolled slowly over him. The two-page, four-color advertisement of Kimberly Suits was still spread out on the desk before him. A sudden taste like half ripe vinegar filled his mouth. He slapped the magazine shut and gave it a shove that sent it over the edge of the desk to the floor.
Haunted spacesuits! Awghhh —
And the Kimberly Joints? They had been tested under every conceivable circumstance. In the space room they had been flexed millions of times at a temperature of 0.001 degree K. The metallurgy department had come up with an alloy that looked like perfection. Hundreds of thousands of the springs had been tested without failure before a single one had been built into a suit.
And now they should fail.