"Doreen, sweetheart—" I took a step toward her—"what's in that box? What is an unhappy genii?"
"Not unhappy." You know how scornful an eight-year-old can be? Well, she was. "Unhap-pen. It makes things unhappen. Anything that works by electracity, it stops. Elmer calls it his unhappen genii. Just for fun."
"Oh, now I get it," I said brightly. "It makes electricity not work—unhappen. Like television sets and air conditioners and automobiles and bus engines."
Doreen giggled.
Marge sat bolt upright. "Doreen! You caused that traffic jam? You and that—that gadget of Elmer's?"
Doreen nodded. "It made all the automobile engines stop, just like Elmer said. Elmer's never wrong."
Marge looked at me. I looked at Marge.
"A field of some kind," I said. "A field that prevents an electric current from flowing. Meaning no combustion motor using an electric spark can operate. No electric motors. No telephones. No radio or TV."
"Is that important?" Marge asked.
"Important?" I yelled. "Think of the possibilities just as a weapon! You could blank out a whole nation's transportation, its communications, its industry—"