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beyond that a column appeared topped by a device that could only be described as a ray gun.
    “So, this is where the money went,” Hunter blurted out with a smile.
    “Do you think I spent it frivolously?” Leitz asked in a sharp tone.
    “That remains to be seen, Doc.”
    He opened a closet and took out a shiny silver suit and a helmet. “Here, put this on,” he said as he handed it to Hunter. “The process generates a tremendous amount of heat, and I would hate to burn you to a crisp.”
    Hunter grabbed the suit with a sudden look of annoyance on his face. Doctor Leitz’ scientific preoccupation, however, prevented him from observing this or any other emotional outburst. Right now he was a god about to add a new wrinkle to the fabric of the universe, and Hunter was no more than a pesky mosquito buzzing in his ear.
    ***
    John turned the last page of the comic book and found that the hero was left dangling on the horns of a dilemma. Would he survive or not? The answer would not be known until he purchased next week’s edition. He felt let down; he had half a story in his head and next week was such a long way off. He stuffed the comic book into his pocket, hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder and walked to the bathroom door.
    The moment he opened it he knew something was wrong; an intense bright light beamed into the room and almost knocked him backwards. As his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw the huge room was filled with shiny metal surfaces, and in the middle of it all were two strange figures in silver suits, wearing mirrored visors on their helmets.
    He closed the door and leaned against it, breathed deeply and told himself not to panic—then he panicked. Weird scenarios flashed through his head, and the weirdest one kept coming back again and again: The bathroom has been abducted by aliens! But why? Why on earth would aliens want a bathroom? Was it something to do with the comic book?
    ***
    Leitz sat at his console fine-tuning the equipment. The console was covered with dials, buttons, switches, slide controls, electronic readouts, in fact all manner of gadgetry that the good doctor felt he needed to manipulate the subtle streams of atomic particles whose configuration gave all matter its own peculiar shape and held it spellbound.
    Standing behind him, Hunter watched as Leitz reached up and turned a television monitor on, and the image flickered into shape: an old wooden kitchen chair painted red, against a black and white graph background.
    ***
    John had never felt quite this strange before; reality as he knew it had ceased to be. He had simply opened a door on what he expected to be a familiar scene, and had encountered the unfamiliar. His mind was a blaze of confusion, his heart was racing, blood surged through his veins, and his breaths came out short and shallow.
    Still, somewhere deep inside himself he knew he couldn’t stay here cowering in a bathroom; he had to get away. To where, he didn’t know, but at least he had to try. Summoning all the strength he had left, he pulled the door open and ran out. The bright light hit him first; there was so much of it, it was like a fog. Then there was a deafening sound, and he thought he’d better make himself some earplugs before his head exploded. Crouching in a corner, he began shredding pages of the comic book and rolling them into tight little balls.
    ***
    Doctor Leitz was now working on pure adrenaline…every switch, button, and dial in front of him was a product of his imagination; they were the variables of his formula for success. He fine-tuned all of them to assure that the outcome of the experiment met his expectations. Above him, the image on the monitor was washed out by the intense light. He adjusted the contrast and the kitchen chair on the graph background came back into ghostly focus.
    He sat back and flexed his fingers; the moment had come for the beginning of the endgame. He flipped a switch and an electronic readout displayed the words: