"I get it!" Sparks grinned. "Want to play peekaboo while the contact's open, eh? Well, O.Q. Watch the birdie!" He twisted dials, adjusted verniers, fingered a host of incomprehensible keys. Current hummed and howled. Then a plate before him cleared, and the voice of the Earth operator came in, enunciating with painstaking clarity: "Earth answering Luna. Earth answering Luna's call. Can you hear me, Luna? Can you hear--?" "I can not only hear you," snorted Riley, "I can see you and smell you, as well. Stop hamming it, stupid! You're lousing up the earth!" The now-visible face of the Earth radioman drew into a grimace of displeasure. "Oh, it's _you_? Funny man, eh? Funny man Riley?" "Sure," said Riley agreeably. "I'm a scream. Four-alarm Riley, the cosmic comedian--didn't you know? Flick on your dictacoder, oyster-puss; here's the weather report." He read it. "'_Weather forecast for Terra, week of May 15-21_--'" "Ask him," whispered Isobar eagerly. "Sparks, don't forget to ask him!" * * * * * Riley motioned for silence, but nodded. He finished the weather report, entered the Dome Commander's log upon the Home Office records, and dictated a short entry from the Luna Biological Commission. Then: "That is all," he concluded. "O.Q.," verified the other radioman. Isobar writhed anxiously, prodded Riley's shoulder. "Ask him, Sparks! Go on ask him!" "Oh, cut jets, will you?" snapped Sparks. The Terra operator looked startled. "How's that? I didn't say a word--" "Don't be a dope," said Sparks, "you dope! I wasn't talking to you. I'm entertaining a visitor, a refugee from a cuckoo clock. Look, do me a favor, chum? Can you twist your mike around so it's pointing out a window?" "What? Why--why, yes, but--" "Without buts," said Sparks grumpily. "Yours not to reason why; yours but to do or don't. Will you do it?" "Well, sure. But I don't understand--" The silver platter which had mirrored the radioman's face clouded as the Earth operator twirled the inconoscope. Walls and desks of an ordinary broadcasting office spun briefly into view; then the plate reflected a glimpse of an Earthly landscape. Soft blue sky warmed by an atmosphere-shielded sun ... green trees firmly rooted in still-greener grass ... flowers ... birds ... people.... "Enough?" asked Sparks. Isobar Jones awakened from his trance, eyes dulling. Reluctantly he nodded. Riley stared at him strangely, almost gently. To the other radioman, "O.Q., pal," he said. "Cut!" "Cut!" agreed the other. The plate blanked out. "Thanks, Sparks," said Isobar. "Nothing," shrugged Riley "_He twisted_ the mike; not me. But--how come you always want to take a squint at Earth when the circuit's open, Jonesy? Homesick?" "Sort of," admitted Isobar guiltily. "Well, hell, aren't we all? But we can't leave here for another six months at least. Not till our tricks are up. I should think it'd only make you feel worse to see Earth."