Harker stared at the screen. A newscaster's solemn face stared back. "_... a discovery of staggering importance, if we can credit this morning's release. Further details will be brought to you as bulletins the moment information is received at the network newsroom._" Harker wrenched the channel-selector dial one turn to the left. A new voice, equally crisp and solemn, was saying: "_... called for an immediate Senate investigation. The cry was echoed by Nat-Lib Senator Clyde Thurman, who declared that such a scientific finding would have to be placed under careful Federal regulation._" A third channel offered: "_... the President had no comment on the news, pending further details. Vice-President Chalmers, attending a meeting in Detroit, commented: 'This is not as incredible a development as superficial appearances would indicate. Science has long had the power to save human lives; this is merely the next step. We should not lose our sense of proportion in considering this matter'._" Harker felt a sudden need for fresh air. He muscled his way through the crowded lounge and out onto the dormitory porch. Confusion reigned everywhere. His tentative plans for making a careful survey of the situation had gone up in one puff of press-agentry; from now on, he would have to improvise, setting his course with desperate agility. He tried to tell himself that things would quiet down before long, once the initial impact had expended itself. But he was too well schooled in the study of mass human behavior to be able to make himself believe any such naive hope. The man in the street could only be thinking one thing now: that the power of death over humanity had ended. In future days, death would have no dominion. But how would they react? Jubilantly, or with terror? What would they say when they learned that five times out of six, life could be restored--but the sixth time a mindless idiot was the product? Fear and trembling lay ahead, and days of uncertainty. Harker let the warm mid-May sun beat down on him; he stared up at the sky as if looking into tomorrow. The sky held no answers. Confusion would be tomorrow's watchword. And there was no turning back, now, not for any of them. CHAPTER IX Harker held his first news-conference at three-thirty that afternoon, in the hastily-rigged room that was now his Litchfield office. By that time, it had occurred to him that he had become not only the legal adviser of the laboratories, but the public spokesman, publicity director, and chairman of the board as well. Everyone, Raymond included, seemed perfectly willing to delegate responsibility to him. He made a list of eight selected media representatives--three newspapers, both press services, two video networks and one radio network, and invited them to send men to his conference. No others were allowed in.