It would enable a skin diver to operate indefinitely under water at jet-propelled speed--invisible to enemy "eyes," yet be able to spy out any hostile undersea prowlers, including supposedly "undetectable" submarines! Tom chuckled wryly as he mulled over the difficulties ahead. "Bud wasn't kidding when he said it would take a magician!" Besides his mask, electronic breathing device, density-control unit, and ion drive, the wearer would now need at least three major additions--first, sonar-blinding equipment with electronic control; second, amplifying equipment to camouflage the wearer's noise under water; and, third, a portable quality analyzer sonar. "Whew! The miniaturizing job alone will be a king-sized headache!" Tom said to himself. "I'd better start with a skin-diving suit made of that molded plastic Arv is turning out." After having some of the Tomasite sheathing, with its embedding transducers, sent over from the plastics department, Tom cut out a suit from a pattern and welded the seams electronically. He had just finished wiring the control unit when Chow wheeled in a lunch cart. "Got some _dee_licious steak-and-kidney pie today," the cook announced, setting it out. "Swell," Tom said absent-mindedly. Chow frowned but left without interrupting the young inventor. Twenty minutes later the cook poked his head into the laboratory again. Tom had not yet touched his lunch. "Brand my vitaminnies, start eatin', boss!" "Sure, Chow." By this time, however, Tom had become so absorbed in the task of assembling some tiny monolithic blocks for the computer circuits of his analyzer, that the lunch remained untasted. When Chow returned a third time, Tom was startled by his bellow: "Get your nose out o' that work, buckaroo, and _eat_!" Realizing Tom's pie had cooled off, Chow had brought another serving, hot from the oven. Seeing the stern look on the Texan's face, Tom burst out laughing and obeyed meekly. "I declare!" Chow chuckled. "One o' these days I'll have to force-feed you if you won't pay no mind to your own nourishment!" "Sorry, old-timer." Tom smiled. "Sometimes I do get a bit wrapped up, I guess." Hour after hour, Tom stayed glued to his workbench, sometimes busy with delicate electronic gear, sometimes lost in thought as he pondered a tricky problem in circuit design. It was long after dark when he drove home from the experimental station, yet he was back on the job in his laboratory early the next morning. By lunchtime Tom had all the apparatus assembled. He was just trying on the plastic suit, with all its accompanying paraphernalia, when Chow made his usual appearance. "Great sufferin' snakes!" the cook gasped. "You ain't goin' divin' in _that_ getup, I hope! You look like a Christmas tree, boss!" Tom nodded glumly. "Know something, Chow? That's just what I was thinking myself."