He massaged his brown hair with a soft towel. Beyond the picture window that faced the steep mountainside, rain thundered in thick curtains to the earth. She laid down a report that she had just recently completed. "Yes, it should, or so it said on the radio this morning. It's unseasonably warm for this time of the year." Lanier walked over to the couch. He glanced at the communiqué from the Pentagon that was already on the coffee table. Eight days ago Lanier had gone under to Prokofiev's Suite From The Love of Three Oranges attempting to rescue a radio astronomer who was held in high regard in some military circles. The astronomer had, for quite valid reasons, chosen not to return to the real world, and, amazingly, had talked Lanier into leaving him alone. Lanier deferred to the man's judgment. The Pentagon wasn't happy about it, and neither were the scientists at the Doty-Wright National Observatory outside Pine Island, Minnesota.
