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storm. Beautiful, a word marred forever by Galin… .
    That was the moment. Life, for Cleo, was never to be the same again.
    Against her will, she found herself thinking of Galin. The sun seemed to have lost some of its power. Instinctively, she glanced again at her child. He was all right, intent upon his pool. Before her bead touched the ground, she heard it; faintly at first, then louder.
    “Cleo Forbin. Cleo Forbin. Cleo Forbin.”
    She sat up, surprised. Eyes narrowed against the glittering glare of the sea, she looked around. No one. Now fully alert, she looked sharply around her again.
    “Cleo Forbin. Cleo Forbin. Cleo Forbin.”
    With the first repetition of her name she got it. The soft, dreamy music had gone, replaced by a faint background mush. The voice came from the radio.
    For a moment she stared at it, unbelievingly. It was the dry, rustling voice of an old man, sexless with age, drained of emotion.
    Again her name was repeated three times in that desiccated voice, overlaid by a faintly Bostonian academic accent.
    … Cleo Forbin.”
    She was startled, puzzled, not yet afraid. Was this some sort of joke? But who—what?
    “Cleo Forbin. Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid. Only you can hear this transmission. Only you. Colossus cannot hear. Do not be afraid.”
    At the mention of Colossus, she was deeply fearful. Thoughts of some practical joke, however improbable, faded. She reached for her wrap.
    “Cleo Forbin. Do not be afraid. We can see you; we think you hear us. You cannot answer, but if you do hear this message, please walk once, slowly, in a circle around your radio, then resume your present position and wait.”
    Cleo sat, frozen, frightened to act, yet too frightened not to. The message was repeated. Slowly, reluctantly, she got up, glancing quickly, apprehensively, at the cliffs behind the beach, the empty sea, the sky. Pretending, half to herself, that she was looking for seashells, she made the circuit, fighting down the impulse to snatch up Billy, and run, run…
    .

    Time dragged by. She watched Billy, waiting… .
    “That is good, Cleo Forbin. We know you hear and understand. Now you must listen with care. As you cannot speak to us, we must try to answer the questions you would ask.”
    She stared, mesmerized by the radio, a small, familiar thing she’d had around for months. Now it looked alien; it was as if she was seeing it for the first time. Again she fought off the desire to grab the unheeding Billy and run, screaming. The voice went on.
    “First, what we say can be proved, some of it by yourself. All you have to do is to listen carefully and not be afraid. Do not be afraid. Accept this—it is the hardest fact you will have to accept—this transmission does not originate from Earth, an Earth satellite, or a moon station. We speak from the planet you know as Mars.”
    At once, Cleo relaxed. This had to be a joke. A stupid one, but a joke. The reference to Colossus had been silly, dangerous, but… . She reached for her wrap again, wondering who could be such a fool as to do this to her. A clever fool, but a fool nevertheless. The voice continued.
    “We appreciate that you may be inclined to dismiss this message as a hoax. You must not do so. We told you Colossus cannot hear us. You are a scientist: you must know that with your technology such a transmission is not possible. For us it is, just as it is possible, Cleo Forbin, for us to help you and the rest of your Fellowship to overcome Colossus.”
    It was like an icy steel hand clutching her heart. She could hardly breathe for fear.
    “Oh, no! No!” She whispered to herself, anxious not to disturb Billy. To hear this said—on the radio! The voice went on, quavering now, as if it was an effort to talk so much.
    “Do not fear, Cleo Forbin. You know that if Colossus heard that message, you, despite your position, would be required for interrogation within an earth-hour. It will not happen; proof that what we say about this