“Frankly, I don’t quite understand it myself,” Tom Sr. confessed.  “The message didn’t explain how or in what form the energy would arrive.  But, at any rate, they want us to construct some sort of container for it.”

The elder scientist paused thoughtfully.  “In my opinion, the energy which they speak of must be a sort of invisible brain.  The symbols were rather difficult to decode, but apparently our job will be to construct a device through which the energy will be able to receive impressions of what life is like here on earth, and also to communicate its own responses to us.”

Tom sat bolt upright.  “Dad, this is terrific news!” he exclaimed.  “If we’re able to make this energy or ‘brain’ communicate, it may be able to tell us what the space people are like!”

Mr. Swift nodded, his own eyes blazing with as much excitement as Tom’s were.

Bud, too, was deeply impressed but could not resist quipping, “What sort of body will you give it?  How about a beautiful, superintelligent space girl for me to date?”

“Nothing doing!” Sandy retorted mischievously.  “I insist on a handsome young man who’d have time to take two nice earth girls out on dates!”

“Ouch!” Bud pretended to wince.  “I really left myself wide open for that one!”

Mrs. Swift put in, “Goodness, mightn’t it get out of control and be rather overpowering?  Suppose it went berserk!”

“Rather an unpleasant possibility,” Mr. Swift agreed, smiling wryly.  “But I trust our space friends wouldn’t let that happen.”

Both he and Tom became thoughtful as they discussed the problem.

“The energy will arrive in two weeks,” Mr. Swift added.  “Unfortunately that phone call was a request that I go to Washington on urgent government business.  So you may have to take over and work out a solution on your own, Tom.”

It was a sobering thought to the young inventor.  “You were right, Mother.  This is a terrific challenge.”

Soon afterward, the little gathering broke up.  Bud, who had left his own convertible at the Swifts’ that morning, offered to drop Phyl at her home.

Tom awoke the next morning, refreshed by a good night’s sleep.  After a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, he drove off to Enterprises in his low-slung silver sports car.

“Think I’ll listen to the news,” Tom thought, and switched on his dashboard radio.

A moment later the announcer’s voice came over the loud-speaker.  “Casualties from yesterday’s disastrous earthquake now total thirty-one injured,” the announcer reported.  “Most of these are employees of the Faber Electronics plant and four are in critical condition.  There is one note of cheer, however.  At last report, Mark Faber, the brilliant president of the company, is now expected to recover.”  Tom gave a thankful sigh of relief.

The announcer continued, “The nearby town of Harkness was only lightly damaged, but the plant itself was almost totally demolished.  No estimate of the losses has been released, but will certainly run into millions of dollars, including some highly secret defense items which were being developed at the plant.  Scientists are puzzled by the severity of the quake in what had been considered a ‘dead’ area.”