From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: The Mercury Theatre is On the Air II
Date: 12 Sep 1993 02:46:49 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
Message-Id: <26u2ip$cvr@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Nntp-Posting-Host: pooh.ins.cwru.edu


Part 2

by Terri Librande

"I'm working hard, and I'll get you home."  He sounded damned determined,
but I could see the weariness in his eyes and posture.  The kid looked
beat to the board.  Bringing the link up, Sam squinted at the display.
That little screen played havoc with the eyes, let me tell you!  "Your
name is Martin Popowski," he said.  "No polish jokes, I know, I know.  
We're in Brooklyn, New York, Ocotber 30th, 1938.  You have a daughter,
Shirley, 5 and a half years old, and your wife, Dorothy...Dottie.  Marty
is a real friendly guy, talkative, sitting in the Waiting Room, complainig
of indigestion."

"Must've been something he ate," I replied, remembering what 'Dottie' had
said they'd had for dinner.  "What am I here to do, Sam?  I kinda like
this place, but I don't want to stay forever."

"The little girl is cute, Al."  Sighing, he hit the side of the link,
not with quite the oomph I'd put into it.  Sam was always more courteous
of equipment than I was.  More patient, everyone said.  That was probably
one of the things that made him such an excellent researcher.  Frankly,
it drove me batty.  "Zig is working on it, Al.  I'd bet we have something
in an hour or so..."

I heard a shout from below me, on the street two stories down.  "Yo!
Marty!"

"Must be calling me," I commented in Sam's direction.  Leaning over the 
rail, I saw a man below dressed in a coverall, bald head shining in the
light from the street lamp.  I waved at him, for lack of a name to call
out.

"You listenin' to the radio?"  The guy was on his way, somewhere, in a
big hurry.  "I'm gettin' the hell outta here--now!"

"The radio?"  I glanced at Sam, then stuck my head in the window of 
our apartment.  Shirley was twisting the dial of the old Philco.
The sound faded in and out, Dottie still in her chair, knitting on
something long and blue.  Maybe a scarf, I thought.  The voice that
issued from the speaker had a touch of panic in it, that straightforward
way of speaking that every reporter nozzle did so damned well.  He was
saying something about an invasion, that the Pulaski Skyway was cut 
off, jammed with traffic.  New Jersey. I remembered that much, and 
what was really going on in the world, now.  Glancing back at Sam
s worried face, I noticed he wsa frantically digging up information
on the link.  "It's Hitler?  He's invading the U.S.?"  I felt myself
pale at the thought.  "God, I really must've messed up history somewhere."

"I don't..."  He grimaced and gave a link a gentle tap.  "Not Hitler, Al."
His eyes widened.  "Martians!"

Gaping a moment, I circled my holographic pal once, then, twice.  "You've
got to be kidding," I finally gulped, wondering how damned serious he
could be at that point.  

"Martians.  The ... God, Al, I should've remembered this without Ziggy!  The
panic broadcast--Halloween, 1938.  Oh Boy, Al, a part of real history!"

Basically, I was going completely blank.  If this was a main event, I 
was completely Swissing it.  Right into orbit, and straight up to Mars.
"Speak English, Sam.  Now, or I'm going to go ballistic here!"

"Orson Welles, "The War Of The Worlds"?"  He gaped at my ignorance.  I'd
done that a few times when our roles had been reversed, so I didn't ake
offense.  "Al, it caused a nationwide panic.  Welles did it in the form
of first person, like a news report. People thought it was a real invasion--
there were a few car accidents, even an attempted suicide.  My Dad...My
Dad told me he was twenty-one or so, heard the whole thing and it scared
the hell out of him."  


to be continued...
-- 
"Girls who have glasses have lots & lots of energy!" Al--Single Drop of Rain
Terri Librande aa811@cleveland.Freenet.edu--Assistant Sysop
The Science Fiction and Fantasy Sig--Go SCIFI