_Walton says he's all right; the assassin didn't even come close. He also told our man that he expects good news on the New Earth bit soon. We like the sound of those words. Popeek may be with the stream after all. Who knows?_ The voice was that of _Citizen_, but the man behind the voice was thinking a little differently. Had the previous editors of _Citizen_ been handling the break, the prevailing tone would most likely have been too-bad-he-missed. Walton called Percy after the edition came out. "Nice job you did on our first _Citizen_," he said approvingly. "It's just what I want: same illiterate style, but a slow swerving of editorial slant until it's completely pro-Popeek." "Wait till you see tomorrow's paper. We're just getting the hang of it! And we'll have our first kaleidowhirl show at 2000 tonight. Cost a fortune to buy in, but we figured that's the best hour." "What's the buried message?" "As you said," Percy told him. "A pro-Popeek job and some pacifist stuff. We've got a team of pollsters out now, and they say the current's predominantly going the other way. We'll be able to tell if the kaleidowhirl stuff works out, all right." "Keep up the good work," Walton said. "We'll get there yet. The alien isn't due to arrive for another day or so--McLeod gets into Nairobi tomorrow some time. I'm going to testify before the UN tomorrow, too. I hope those UN boys are watching our pretty color patterns tonight." Percy grinned. "Boy, you bet!" * * * * * Walton threw himself energetically into his work. It was taking shape, now. There were still some loose ends, of course, but he was beginning to feel that some end to the tangle of interlocking intrigues was in sight. He checked with a public recreation director and discovered there would be a block forum on West 382nd Street at 1830 that night. He made a note to attend, and arranged to have a synthetic mask fashioned so he wouldn't have to reveal his own identity. Twenty-four hours. In that time, Fred's employers would presumably be readying themselves to loose Lamarre's serum on the world; an extraterrestrial being would be landing on Earth--and, by then, Walton would have been called to render an account of his stewardship before the United Nations. The annunciator chimed again. "Yes?" Walton said. "Mr. O'Mealia of Mount Palomar Observatory, calling long distance to talk to you, sir." "Put him on," Walton said puzzledly. O'Mealia was a red-faced individual with deep-set, compelling eyes. He introduced himself as a member of the research staff at Mount Palomar. "Glad I could finally reach you," he said, in a staccato burst of words. "Been trying to call for an hour. Made some early-morning observations of Venus a little while ago, and I thought you'd be interested." "Venus? What?"