WELCOME TO PARADISE By Allyn Donnelson A civilian like me has no business getting mixed up in top secret government projects. But this one I got into--and you should be as lucky! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy September 1954 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] President of the United States The White House Washington, D.C. Dear Mr. President: I don't know who else to appeal to about the fix I'm in, because I'm afraid I would be revealing top secret material to someone who isn't entitled to hear it. That's why I wouldn't tell the FBI anything and that's why I told them I don't want a lawyer. I know you've got lots on your mind, Mr. President, and I hope hearing about my blunder doesn't throw you off your game this weekend or anything like that, but I sure would appreciate it if you could find time to help me out. You see, I'm not a spy, and I sure didn't stumble into this stuff of my own accord, but how was I to know I was setting off a spark that had something to do with space travel? After all, when you stop to think about it, I only did what the foreman told me to, but he didn't know any better either, so I wouldn't want to get him in Dutch. You see, I work at the Diversified Metal Products Co. up here in Chicago. I'm a spot welder and one job I had to do about every six weeks was make six welds on a geedunk we called a "manhole cover." We didn't know what they were, except that they were something special for the Signal Corps, and they looked about as much like manhole covers as anything else. Well, the way the work is supposed to be scheduled, my welding job is the first thing after it comes off the presses, just before the little coils are put in. So the foreman comes over to me one night--it was October 10, the last day of the World Series--and shows me one of the covers after it's been wired up. One of the welds has come loose--maybe because the material was dirty or something like that--and it looks like the whole thing will have to be scrapped. So he says to me "Tuck" (my name is Joe Peters, but they call me Tuck for Kentucky where I come from)--he says, "Tuck, do you suppose you can save this piece by welding it again, right there between those two coils?" I look the geedunk over, and there isn't much room to play around, but I decide it's not near enough the coils to melt the wires. So if I spoil it, so what? It'd be scrap anyhow. How was I to know the points of the welder would establish an electrical contact?