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can explain it?"
    “I don't want to try,” Fowler said. “You don't need me up here. You need ... I don't know who. I'm an engineer. I deal with repeatable phenomena. Anything else and I'm way out of my depth."
    “The microwaves jumped when you were outside having your dream. That's your equipment; the needle registered a whopping increase."
    “Other things could cause that."
    “Other what sort of things?"
    “Henry, I'm not even personally qualified. This sort of thing disturbs me in a way I don't need right now. My real world is shaky enough without having my metaphysics challenged."
    “Sounds like a copout to me,” Henry said.
    Fowler took a deep breath. “Judge me that way if you want. Maybe I am a coward—"
    “I didn't say you were. Well, not a physical coward, anyway. But you're leaving us to face something just as real as any problems you have back home. Just because we can't define it clearly doesn't mean it isn't real."
    “Even if this is more than dreams and flukes, I'm not the one. I just don't qualify."
    “You're leaving your junk food behind?"
    “Fortify yourself if you need it. I'd even leave the equipment here, but I'm responsible for it. I'll send you the names of a few rental places if you still want to follow up. Myself, I think we drew a blank."
    “Larry—"
    “And please don't try to convince me otherwise. I feel pretty rotten right now as it is. Let me think it over."
    “We won't be giving up. Hell, we can't. Dad has most of his money sunk into this property and he doesn't feel like selling—wouldn't feel right selling to someone who didn't know. If you do change your mind, or just want to come up and see the cabin again—"
    Fowler raised one eyebrow doubtfully.
    “—or whatever, Dad and I want you to have a key. Come right in, whether we're here or not."
    Fowler opened the front door and threw his coat onto the seat. “I do thank you for inviting me. I've needed the fresh air for a long time. No hard feelings one way or the other?"
    Henry shook his head.
    “I'll try to find out if any planes went over last night, or if there are TV towers in the area. If not, maybe you have something. But get somebody who knows his business to come in and check it out, okay?"
    “Sure,” Henry said. “Good-bye, Larry."
    “Come down to LA sometime, I'll show you the town."
    “I was born there,” Henry said. “I'll show you the town."
    “Fair enough.” They looked at each other for a moment, then shook hands. “Take care,” Fowler said. He backed the truck down the gravel road, wincing at the sound the tires made, then honked before edging out on the asphalt. He honked again and waved, but Henry was beyond the crest of the hill.
    He felt like a complete bastard.

Psychlone

CHAPTER NINE
    The clean white lights of the drafting rooms, the smell of paper and developer and toner and blueprint machines, the hot dusty smell of the electronic equipment—Fowler was back in his sea, and glad to be there. His vacation had ended the day before, giving him four days to sort things out after returning from the mountains.
    He greeted the chief engineer and a secretary cheerily before entering his office. The hotplate and glass coffee pot waited, pleasantly clean and uncommitted, and he laid a box of doughnuts down beside them. His day always began in an orderly fashion—coffee and two doughnuts, an hour looking over the designs and revisions on his board, fifteen minutes catching up on office memos, and then two hours of work before breaking for lunch.
    Fowler had always found work cathartic. Whatever problems he might have on the outside, he could drop them at the employee gate and come to work clean, ready to concentrate. That had saved him many times from long days of waiting (for his wife to call, her attorney to call, the kids to call or all three) and involvement. Involvement had never been his strong point. Best to put up appearances and hide behind them
    Now that he had no wife, and effectively