[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories, June 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Tommy Driscoll lay on his stomach in the grass outside his father'slaboratory and read his comic books. He was ten years old and whollyinnocent of any idea that Fate or Chance or Destiny might make use ofhim to make the comic books come true.
He was clad in grubby shorts, with sandals, and no socks or blouse.Ants crawled on his legs as he lay on the ground, and he absentlyscratched them off. To the adult eye he was merely the son of thatProfessor Driscoll who taught advanced physics at Harwell College, andin summer vacation puttered around with research.
As such, Tommy was inconsiderable from any standpoint except that ofFate or Chance or Destiny. They had use for him.
He was, however, wholly and triumphantly a normal small boy. As hescratched thoughtfully and absorbed the pictures in his comic book, hewas Space Captain McGee of the rocket-cruiser Omadhoum, gloriouslydefeating—for the fifteenth time since he had acquired the book—thedastardly scheme of the Dictator of Pluto to enslave the human race tothe green-skinned stalk-eyed denizens of that dark planet.
A little while since he had been the Star Rover, crimson-cloaked andcrimson-masked and mysteriously endowed with the power to surviveunharmed the frigidity and airlessness of interstellar space. As theStar Rover, he had triumphantly smashed the attempt of some veryunpleasant Mercurians to wipe out the human race so that they couldemigrate to Earth.
As both splendid figures, at satisfyingly frequent intervals, Tommy hadswung mighty blows at the jaws or midriffs of Mercurians, green-skinnedPlutonians, renegade Earthmen, and others.
But he had just finished reading both comics three times in succession.He heaved a sigh of comfortable mental repletion and rolled over,imagining further splendid if formless adventures with space-ships andray-guns.
Locusts whirred monotonously in the maple trees of Harwell Collegecampus. His father's laboratory was a small stone structure off thePhysics Building, and Tommy waited for his father and Professor Wardleto come out. When they did, he would walk home with them and possiblyacquire an ice-cream cone on the way. With luck he might wangle anothercomic.
He heard his father's voice. Talking to Professor Wardle, who wasspending the week-end with them.
"There's the set-up," said his father inside the laboratory. "Absurd,perhaps, but this Jansky radiation bothers me. I've found out onerather startling thing about it."
"My dear fellow," Professor Wardle said drily, "if you publishanything about the Jansky radiation the newspapers will accuse you ofcommunicating with Mars!"
Tommy knew by his father's tone that he was grinning.
"I've not thought of anything so conservative. Everybody knows thatthe Jansky Radiation comes from the direction of the Milky Way andfrom beyond the Solar System. It makes a hissing noise in a sensitiveshort-wave receiver. No modulation has ever been detected. But noexplanation's been offered either."[1]
Professor Wardle moved, inside the laboratory.
"What's the startling fact you've discovered?" he asked.
"It's got a point source," Tommy Driscoll's father said, and Tommycould tell he was still grinning. "It comes from one spot. There's asecond-order effect in our atmosphere which has masked it up to now. Ican prove it."
Tommy chewed on