Alas, Babylon

For an instant the Sidewinder seemed to be following the flight of the bogy beautifully, and Peewee waited for it to merge into the tail pipe of one of the jet engines. Then the Sidewinder seemed to waver in its course.

Peewee believed, although he could not be certain, that the bogy had cut its engines and was in a steep glide. Following the Sidewinder, Peewee lost sight of the bogy.

The Sidewinder darted downward, toward the dock area of Latakia.

It seemed to be chasing a train. That crazy rocket, Peewee thought.

There was an orange flash and an enormous ball of brown smoke and black bits of debris rushing up to meet him. Peewee kicked his rudder hard and climbed away from it, compressed within his G-suit and momentarily losing his vision. Then the shock wave kicked him in the rear and he was out over the Mediterranean again. He was asking for a vector back to his ship when another flash reflected on his instrument panel. He banked to look back, and saw a black cloud, red flames at its base, rising from Latakia.

Fifteen minutes later Ensign Cobb, freckles standing out on his white face like painted splotches, was standing in Admiral’s Country of Saratoga trying to explain what had happened.

Randy Bragg pulled up in the rear driveway of the McGovern house, wondering whether he should go in. He was not exactly popular with the elder McGoverns, which was why Lib visited him more often than he visited her.

Whenever he entered the McGovern home, Randy felt as if he were stepping into an enormous department-store window. The entire front of the house, facing the Timucuan, was plate glass clamped between thin stainless steel supports, and every piece of furniture appeared unused, as if a price tag and warranty would be found tied to one of the legs. Lavinia McGovern herself had thought up the basic plan, collaborated with the architect, and supervised the construction. The architect, pleading a hotel commission in Miami, had returned part of his fee and absented himself from Fort Repose before the foundation was laid.

On his first visit, Randy had not endeared himself to Lavinia. She took him on what she called “the grand tour,” proudly showing off the multiple heat pumps insuring constant year-round temperature; the magnificent kitchen with electronic ovens and broilers operated from a central control panel; the cunning round holes in the ceiling which sprayed gentle light on dining-room table, bar, bridge table, and strategically located abstract statuary; the television screens faired into the walls of bedrooms, living room, dining room, and even kitchen; and the master bedroom’s free form tub, which extended through the wall and into a tiny, shielding garden. There were no fireplaces, which she called “soot-producers,” or bookshelves, which were “dust catchers.”

All was new, modern, and functional. “When we came down here,” Lavinia said, “we got rid of everything in Shaker Heights and started fresh, bright, and new. See how I’ve brought the river right to our feet?” She indicated the expanse of glass. “What do you think of it?”

Randy tried to be at once tactful and truthful. “It reminds me of an illustration out of Modern Living, but “

“But?” Lavinia inquired, nervously.

Randy, feeling he was being helpful, pointed out that in the summer months the sun’s direct rays would pour through the glass walls, and that the afternoon heat would become unbearable no matter how large and efficient the air-conditioning system. “I’m afraid that in summer you’ll have to shutter that whole southwest side of the house,” he said.

“Is there anything else you think is wrong?” Lavinia asked, her voice dangerously sweet.

“Well, yes. That indoor-outdoor bath is charming and original, but come spring it’ll be a freeway for moccasins and water snakes. On cool nights they’ll plop in and swim or crawl right into the house.”

At this point Lavinia had squealed and clutched at her throat as it suffocating, and her husband and daughter had half-carried her to the bedroom. The next day plumbers and masons remodeled the sunken tub, eliminating the outdoor feature. Later, Lib explained that her mother dreaded snakes, and had been solely responsible for the design of the house. Randy never felt comfortable in Lavinia’s presence thereafter. And Lavinia, while attempting to be gracious, sometimes became pale and grew faint when he appeared.

Randy’s relations with Bill McGovern were little better. On occasion, after a few extra drinks, he disagreed with Mr. McGovern on matters political, social, and economic. Since Bill for many years had been president of a manufacturing concern employing six thousand people, few of whom ever disagreed with him about anything, he had been affronted and angry. He considered Randy