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Beneath the coffee table, twisted necks were stealing glances at the Area Commander and his entourage, but they were helmeted, invisible. Civil Defensemen, still stiff at attention, almost leaped when the Area Commander pointed.

"No peeking!" the Warden raged. He grasped a rolled-up copy of the Evening Observer and swatted the backside of the nearest miscreant. This happened to be Wayne Ray and Howard watched him shut his eyes and groan and clench his fists together in a painful, muzzled fury. The Area Commander lit a big cigar... Howard nearly bolting at the familiarity of its fragrance... and stepped closer to the coffee table, circling it with only his olive rubber boots and orange plastic coveralls visible. The Civil Defense people muttered among each other... news and information, no doubt, and Howard fought back temptation, staring, instead, at the placid, bovine face of Beatrice Ray across the carpet, under the coffee table.

Finally the door slammed and, with a last squeal of gravel, the Area Commander was gone.

"Alright," said the Warden, "...open your eyes and come out." The dozen tested ones crawled backwards on their knees, lifted their heads and, with no little staggering and grunting, regained their feet.

"I'm going to write you up," he singled out Wayne. "If you'd looked up at the wrong moment, you could have been blinded by an atom flash. Do you want to go blind?"

"Of course not," Wayne retorted. "But just what the hell would you do with all of those hooded people and Defensemen stomping round? They wouldn't be there in a real emergency, and there wouldn't be anything to look at. They'd be hiding too! Not firing up some godawful stogie... that must have been a Canadian cigar! Stank like burning dog hair..."

"I'll be sure to include your excuse in my report," smirked the Warden. "Corporal," he ordered, "bring up the Minnesota forms." In his helmet he was only two or three inches shorter than the salesman, and he jabbed his forefinger into Wayne's chest as he continued, "Don't... ask... questions. The Area Commander's preferences are no concern of yours. He and his men are protected. And, as for the rest of, we've taken the vows of sacrifice. Now sign here, on the broken line, and your insurer will be notified by mail. Unless you want to appeal, and then you fill in Box Sixteen and initial it. They'll notify you when the hearing will take place."

Wayne clenched the fountain pen like a dagger, glowered at the Warden, and then lowered his eyes. "Alright, I'm signing it. You were just doing your job."

"Somebody has to." The Warden might have said more, but the Area Commander and his entourage had slammed the front door too hastily on their departure. The lock had not caught, the door swung open and, now, Spot... the Grays' large, shaggy dog... arrived, fresh from a romp through a wet and muddy puddle in the bad place. The beatnik and the Sheas were nearest and Spot greeted them with a hearty shake of ecstasy. They jumped back abruptly... Karyl pawing ineffectually at her "Fall Fantasy" dress... now it was different from the others'!

"Not yet, people," said the Warden, "...the Corporal has more forms for you to fill out."

Howard and Betty took their Minnesota Experimental Forms and, because it hadn't been prohibited, compared them.

"These are difficult," frowned Betty. "What should I answer?"

"Circle all the 'yes' boxes," Howard advised. "You don't want them to check you off as a negative thinker. There has to be a trick question in there, but don't get bothered with. It's alright to seem a little dumb, they like that, but just don't get marked down negative."

"I see," said Betty and filled out the form. "Howard... the Area Commander..."

"Some of these are really devious! You said something?"

Betty put her form down on the television, looked around, and then said, softly, but firmly, "Call it a woman's intuition, if you will, or laugh at me... I think that it was Waldo!"

A Defenseman looked up suspiciously, and Betty pretended to be gazing out the window at the Grays' old rocking chair, rocking on the porch on the other side of the door.

"Walnut... or oak, maybe, it's certainly a picturesque old chair..." she smiled.

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