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Electromagnetic Pulse:

Also called a transient electromagnetic disturbance is a short burst of electromagnetic energy. Such a pulse may occur in the form of a radiated electric or magnetic field or conducted electrical current depending on the source, and may be natural or manmade.

Wikipedia.org

Huntington Beach, California. Thursday 25 May, 2017. 1430 hours:

Fourteen-year-old, dark-haired, and slender Greg Moffitt slumped in an uncomfortable, contour plastic chair in the Principal's office of The Ethel Dwyer Middle School. He squirmed, chewed a fingernail, spat it on the deck. Afternoon sunlight slanting through partially closed Venetian blinds glinted off his glasses, causing him to squint. He awaited with dread the arrival of his mother, an Associate Professor of Literature and Arts at the U.C. Irvine campus.

"Wasn't my fault," he muttered. "Big bully, I just pushed him. Serves him right."

The Paramedics arrival, announced by flashing red and white lights and siren, had caused a stir. They tore off Junior Morgan's polo shirt and began CPR. Then they smeared his chest with conductive jelly and applied defibrillator paddles. A police officer kept onlookers at a distance. "What happened, Greg?" a classmate had asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Junior was trying to grab my lunch money as usual, and I just pushed him."

The office door squeaked open and Principal Edwards escorted Greg's mother Susan inside. She was a thin woman of average height, attractive face and shoulder length auburn hair. He showed her to a seat.

"Your phone call was disturbing, Mr. Edwards," she said. "Please fill me in," she said in an imperious voice. "Took me out of a scheduled arts class. Won't be able to reschedule it for six months. This better be good." Her glare at Greg conveyed a modicum of anger and disbelief.

"Mrs. Moffitt, there was an altercation between your son Greg and another student, Jeffrey Morgan."

"Junior," Greg blurted. "He's been stealing my lunch money, and not just mine. Others of us nerds too."

Edwards held up a hand in a shushing motion. "Please, Greg. We'll get to you in a bit."

Greg twisted his lanky frame, trying to achieve some comfort in the one-size-fits-all plastic chair. He gave up, pushed the offending plastic furniture back to the wall and seated himself with a thump on the bare floor. "It's no big deal, Mom," he muttered.

"It better not be," she replied, "or it's a month without your iPhone."

2.

Principal Edwards cracked the office door open, responding to a soft, insistent tap. "Yes?"

A young man dressed in paramedic gear motioned him outside. "Student Jeffrey Morgan is being transported to Hoag Hospital's Cardiovascular Critical Care Unit in Newport Beach, sir. He has a weird cardiac arrhythmia and we had to apply a transcutaneous pacemaker. According to witnesses he was involved in an altercation with another boy. We are still trying to put this incident in perspective. I'll need to speak to the other student."

"Of course. Greg and his mother are here. Please come in."

3.

The man knelt at Greg's side. "I'm Joe Fosberg, Greg. I'm a paramedic. I was called to the scene of your situation with Jeff."

"Is he okay? I just pushed him."

Joe nodded. "Stand up, Greg. Right in front of me."

He did so. Slender, 104 pound eighth-grader Greg faced an adult who outweighed him by at least ninety pounds. "Now push me, Greg. As hard as you pushed Junior."

Greg shrugged. His two-handed shove barely ruffled Joe's uniform shirt.

Susan Moffitt objected. "What's this got to do with anything? Why are you harassing my son?"

"My apologies, Mrs. Moffitt. I'm trying to reconstruct the confrontation scene. Something doesn't figure here. There is more force involved than Greg could have possibly exerted with his weight and body build."

Greg raised a hand. "Maybe he tripped when I pushed him and fell against that wall."

Joe nodded. "Yeah. Brick wall, I saw that. It's where we found Jeff. There were no significant external injuries, just the cardiac problem. He's too young for something like that, plus he's an athlete and must have had regular physical exams."

"Freak accident. Coincidence," Greg's mother Susan concluded. "Are we finished here?"

"As far as I'm concerned, Joe said."I have reports to submit to my boss. A police detective will have more questions. Please have Greg available, Mrs. Moffitt. You okay with that, Greg?"

He gave the paramedic a faint grin. "Whatever it takes, Joe."

4.

Huntington Beach Police Headquarters, 1730 hours the same day:

"I'm sorry Mrs. Moffitt. You may not be present in the examination room," Detective Alvin Prescott told her. "Our conversation will be recorded in case it is required in court."

"Why in court?"

"Always the potential of lawsuits, Mrs. Moffitt. By Jeff's parents against Greg, you, the school, the principal. Even us. Happens all the time."

Susan nodded. "Our litigious society, of course. I'll alert our attorney." She turned to her son. "Will you be okay, Greg? I'll wait outside."

Detective Prescott shuffled papers on the table and stacked them neatly. "I'm Al. Can I get you something to drink, Greg?" he asked.

"A Pepsi would be good."

Prescott lifted the phone, punched an extension and made the request. A minute later a deputy showed up with a cold Coke can. "Machine was out of Pepsi. Is this okay?"

Greg nodded, popped the tab and took a long swallow, wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his blue UCLA sweatshirt. "What else can I tell you, Al?"

Prescott viewed the top sheet. "I've got all your vitals, Greg. GPA 3.9. High marks in math, reading and writing. You're a cinch for a top PSAT score in a couple of years. Probably get you into Stanford or UCLA. All this makes me curious. Why mess with Jeff Morgan?"

Greg shifted in the chair, ran fingers through his dark hair, and took another swig of Coke. "Junior had it coming. I'd had enough. He's been harassing me, Bill Adams and other nerds. Even girls. He grabbed Pippa Blackwell's purse and tried to swat her with it when she swore at him."

"How long has this been going on?

"Better part of six months, stealing our lunch money just to show off for his jock buddies."

"Have you or others complained to Mr. Edwards about this?"

Greg let out a sigh of frustration. "Lots of times. Jeff's an untouchable, going to be a linebacker on the Marina High School team next year. First string. Our faculty overlooks this. They all have vicarious interest in local high school sports, especially football. Recruiters from USC and UCLA have come to watch Jeff practice and play."

Prescott nodded. "Enough of all this B.S. to get you totally pissed off, am I right, Greg?"

"Yeah. This time was different, though."

"Different how?"

"Hard to describe. His voice was threatening, demanding my lunch dollar. Then suddenly it started to fade away, his voice. My head started to hurt, my ears were ringing and there was this bright bluish-white flash. Blinded me. Next thing I remember was on my knees and Jeff was lying by the wall."

"Were you okay?"

"Just groggy, weak like I'd just woke up from a nap. My eyes were funny. I could see afterimages of that flash. Different colors. Red, yellow, purple. It took me a few minutes before I could stand up. Joe, the paramedic had me breathe some oxygen."

Detective Prescott read a report from the stack on the table. "Yes, I've got his report. He said you lay in the paramedic vehicle for fifteen minutes. Then he helped you walk around for a few minutes, and then brought you to Mr. Edwards's office."

"I sort of remember that. Guess I was in and out for a bit."

Joe's final note says, "Greg's symptoms are suggestive of recovery from a postictal state. I had to Google that one. It means an altered state of consciousness following an epileptic seizure. Do you have epilepsy, Greg?"

"No way. My annual physicals have always been good."

"Who's your family doctor?"

"Dr. Ben Mason. He delivered me and my sister, Jenny. She's twelve."

"Okay, Greg, we're done here. I'm going to recommend to your mother that you have another physical right away. I'll give her a copy of the paramedic report for your doctor."

"How soon can I go back to school? Got a bunch of exams coming up."

"As soon as Dr. Mason gives you the okay."

5.

Dr. Bernard Mason's office. 0930 hours, June 1:

Mason, a distinguished looking man with early graying sideburns sat with Greg and his mother Susan in his office. "Mrs. Moffitt, Greg's physical is completely normal. There is one area of concern in the brain wave test I ordered." He turned his iMac so they could view the screen. He tapped with a pencil point. "This is a normal pattern. These wavy lines are called cortical slow waves." He tapped a key and a second pattern appeared beside the first. "This is Greg's electroencephalogram." He pointed again with the pencil tip. "You can see how high the cortical slow waves spike. This is a postictal pattern, meaning that the time of the incident Greg sustained either a temporal or frontal lobe seizure, or some outside factor as yet undetermined."

"Wow," Greg said, impressed.

"He's not epileptic," Susan insisted.

"Sometimes the event may be quite minor, without obvious clinical seizure activity. Greg, have you ever been really mad about something and afterwards felt sleepy, like you wanted to take a nap?"

He thought for seconds, eyes closed, chin propped in one hand. Then he blinked. "Yeah. I was five or six, I think. My Dad backed his car over one of my toys in the driveway. I yelled and cried, my Mom took me to my room, had me lie down. I remember Jenny was watching. She was upset and crying, too."

"Greg was out for about an hour," Susan recalled.

"That fits," Dr. Mason said. "That's all I have for now. Greg, would you please excuse us for a few minutes? I'd like to speak to your mother in private."

Greg shrugged. "No problem, Doc. Can I go back to school? Detective Al said it was up to you."

"Can you download your assignments for a couple of days? Do them at home?"

"Sure, Doc. I can submit them to my teachers on their iPads. Lots of kids do it like that." He left for the waiting room.

6.

"Mrs. Moffitt, I'd like to have a friend of mine at the U.C. Irvine Medical Center look at these EEG results for confirmation. I'm no expert."

Susan gave him a questioning look. "Is that necessary, Dr. Mason" Greg just needs a prescription, something to calm him down."

Mason tapped on his computer keyboard. "Xanax. A mild sedative. Which pharmacy, Mrs. Moffitt?"

"The CVS at Springdale and Edinger Ave. Could his sister take some? She's been upset about his situation too."

"Of course." Mason clicked keys. "Half a tablet each. It'll be ready when you get there."

Greg swallowed one half of the tan 0.5 mg tablet with a glass of orange juice as soon as they arrived at home. "This won't make me go crazy, will it, Mom?"

"It's just a mild sedative, dear. You will be fine. Go finish up your homework and send it in. I'll go pick us up some In-N-Out burgers and fries."

Greg had just cracked his math textbook when there was a tap on his bedroom door. "C'mon in, Jenny."

His younger sister was tall for her age with tawny hair fashioned in a ponytail and a concerned look on her pale face. "Are you okay, Greg?"

"Dr. Mason's office did a brain test. He thinks I had a mild epileptic seizure after my run-in with Junior."

His sister's eyes grew wide. "Wow. It looked like you had knocked him out. Good for you. I was watching with Ella, Pippa and some other girls. I was so mad I almost passed out. I threw up when I got home. I felt worn out and lay down for a nap."

Greg nodded. "It was pretty scary, Jen. I barely pushed Jeff and he fell against a wall. Paramedics had to do CPR and zap his chest with defibrillator paddles because his heart had stopped. Last I heard he was being driven to the Hoag Hospital in Newport Beach."

"We heard them leave with flashing lights and siren," Jenny said. "His heart stopped? Good. I guess our lunch money will be safe."

"Are you okay now, Jen?"

She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "Just a headache."

He handed his sister the other half of his Xanax tablet. "Dr. Mason ordered a sedative for us. Try it. Mom says it won't make us go psycho."

Jenny swallowed it with a swig of her Pepsi and grinned. "You're the only crazy person in this major dysfunctional family."

Greg nodded. "Maybe. Dr. Mason told me and Mom he was going to bring my test to a brain specialist."

7.

0945 hours Friday, 2 June: U.C. Irvine Medical Center office of Dr. Peter Schaffer.

Professor Schaffer studied the results of Greg's EEG test for a minute on his computer screen. He nodded. "I'm glad you brought these, Ben."

"You found something, Pete?"

The Professor tapped keys. "There it is." He turned the computer so Dr. Mason could see the screen, and pointed with a fingertip. "These little spikes are indicative of residual abnormal hyperactivity of motor and pre-motor cortex."

"Which means what?"

"It means that Greg's push of Junior must had been unusually strong."

Mason took a deep breath and sighed. "Strong enough to stop his heart? Greg says he tried to push the paramedic with both hands but barely wrinkled his shirt. He didn't have strength like that."

"Ben, maybe this is something other than physical strength," Shaffer said. "Who knows? Just a passing thought. What about something genetic? Want to ask the Moffitts some genealogy questions?"

8.

Monday 5 June. The Moffitt residence, 1530 hours:

Logan Moffitt's response to Dr. Mason's question was a shrug. "My ancestors lived a remarkably bland lifestyle. Couple of uncles who served in WW2. What's this got to do with Greg?"

"Those findings that Dr. Shaffer noted on Greg's brain wave studies are unusual, hard to explain."

"What do you mean, Dr. Mason?" Susan asked. Her voice was shaded with a large degree of skepticism.

Dr. Mason shook his head and sighed. "Dr. Shaffer and I are wondering if there could be a similar family or genetic connection that involves Greg."

"A genetic trait? That's crazy. Science fiction," she declared.

"Wait a minute, Sue," her husband said. "What about your grandmother? Allison something? Wasn't there a ruckus back in the fifties? She was interviewed by the cops, you told me once."

Susan paused, brow furrowed in concentration. "Allison Lister. My grandmother." She stood up, headed for the attic staircase. "There's an old scrapbook and papers of hers in a trunk. Hadn't thought about this in years. Can you wait, Dr. Mason?"

"I love mysteries, especially cold cases. I can help you look."

9.

They shuffled through old letters in the battered trunk for almost an hour. Then Logan found an envelope with a Huntington Beach postmark. He carefully removed its fragile contents and held the faded printing up to a table lamp. "It's a police report, dated Tuesday June 14, 1955. Claimants Russell and June Elliott, who said Allison Lister, age 24 had murdered their son Jeremy Bergstrom, age 30."

Logan said, "There's a statement by the investigating officer, Detective James Follett of the Huntington Beach P.D."

"Let me see," Susan said. She lifted the document by the edges with two fingers and read: "The Bergstrom's insist that Allison Lister was responsible for the death of their son, claims she gave him a heart attack. Impossible, the Detective states. Jeremy was in good physical health, a three letter athlete."

Susan said, "I'm with the Detective on that one. This is a wild goose chase."

Dr. Mason shook his head and said, "Not to me. It sounds like the Jeff Morgan case. I need to talk to Detective Follett. He'd be in his late eighties or early nineties. Professor Shaffer can make some calls. He's faculty. Is that okay, Mrs. Moffitt?"

She was doubtful. "If you say so. This is beginning to sound like a Twilight Zone or Outer Limits episode."

10.

One week later:

Retired Detective James Follett resided in a cottage by the water in Sunset Beach with his wife Sarah. He found the call from a U.C. Irvine Professor of Neurology intriguing. "My schedule is quite flexible these days," he told Doctor Shaffer. "I've kept some old files. This case sounds familiar. Certainly you may bring Dr. Mason. I'd welcome the company."

They sat on a porch overlooking the Pacific, watching cool rippling wave crests and a purple and orange sunset. Sarah placed glasses of lemonade and a tray of chocolate chip cookies on a plate on a small table between them. Shaffer smiled and thanked her, then took a cookie.

Jim Follett shuffled papers from a battered briefcase, selected a few of them and laid the rest aside. "1955. A weird case as I recall. The Bergstroms were ticked off. Screaming about lawsuits, turns out their son Jeremy was having a serious argument with his girlfriend Allison Lister when he collapsed." He pulled another report from the file. "Paramedics report, Tuesday June 14, 1955. 1205 hours: Patient unresponsive. No vital signs. Chest compression, negative. Multiple attempts at defibrillation, no response. Flat line throughout. No response to intracardiac injection of epinephrine. They called it quits after an hour and fifteen minutes." Follett flipped a page, adjusted his reading glasses. "Patient DOA at Hoag Hospital Emergency Room in Newport Beach. Time 1422 hours."

Follett read further. "Here's something. This was such an unusual case they did an autopsy the same day. Probable cause of death was cardiac arrhythmia, unknown cause. The pathologist froze a piece of heart muscle after he took a biopsy for routine pathology studies. For more complex studies, he said."

Jim Follett flipped more pages, leafed through another file, and scratched his chin. He handed Dr. Shaffer a pathology report.

Shaffer read, "Normal striated myocardial muscle tissue on routine tissue examination. Frozen tissue sent to U.C. Irvine Medical Center for further studies. There was no follow-up report."

Follett shrugged. "Sorry, wish I could have been more help."

The Doctors rose, shook Follett's hand and thanked his wife for the cookies. "Not a wasted trip, Jim. You gave us a new direction."

11.

They were thoughtful on the drive back. Dr. Shaffer clicked a saved number on his iPhone for U.C. Irvine Medical Center's Pathology lab. He identified himself and asked the technician, "How long you keep frozen tissue specimens? This is a long shot, a case from 1955. Patient named Jeremy Bergstrom. It would have come from Hoag Hospital in Newport Beach. Thank you, I'll hold."

He turned to Dr. Mason. "Doubtful, but the tech is checking the records. Hold on."

Fifteen minutes later the tech returned. "Our records show that we received frozen cardiac muscle tissue on June 15th from Hoag for further studies," she said. "Doctor Adrian Farmar signed for it. The case was flagged as unusual, but the tissue was discarded after the final pathology report was signed out. That report is on microfiche. We're behind on getting all these old cases converted to computer files. Sorry I could not have been more help."

Shaffer thanked the lady and ended the call. He tapped on his smart phone. "Adrian Farmar. Got him. Retired in '83, age 80, died in 1989. Let's go see what we can dig up. I know the Medical Records Librarian."

12.

"Good to see you, Dr. Shaffer. How can I help you?" Donna Tartino asked.

Shaffer clicked on his smart phone and showed her the screen. "Dr. Adrian Farmar," she recalled. "Ancient history. Why now?"

Shaffer explained. "It's a cold case, Donna. I'm wondering if we can get a look at his report on this biopsy material. Dr. Mason and I will be happy to dig through the microfiche files."

"I'm intrigued." She pulled up a diagram on her computer and printed it out. "This is where the archives are located. I'd be glad to have some of my people retrieve it for you." She wrote Dr. Farmar's case number down on a Post-It note.

"Thank you, Donna. You have much more important things to do. C'mon Ben."

13.

It took 45 minutes to locate the case number in the files and load the Farmar microfiche into the ancient microfilm reader. Ben Mason took photos of the pages on his iPhone. "Got it, Pete."

Back in Dr. Shaffers office they printed out a copy of Dr. Farmar's report. Dr. Mason looked over Pete's shoulder as he read. "Unusual cardiac conduction system problem," he said. "Special stains for Purkinje fibers showed minute foci of lysis within individual fibers. This shut down the heart's inherent ability to maintain rhythmic contractions with absence of vagus nerve stimulation. Further studies indicated." The report ends there.

"Ben," Shaffer asked. "What the heck could stop a heart by knocking out its self-contained conduction system?"

Mason shrugged. "Do you know any electronics geeks at the Irvine campus?"

14.

Twenty-four year old Eddie Balfour, an associate professor in the U.C. Irvine Electronics lab, wore a scruffy lab coat and sported a trimmed tan chin beard. He was fascinated. "So some of this victim's heart muscle showed unusual disintegration or dissolution of conductive nerve cells within the heart itself?"

Dr. Shaffer handed Eddie the printout of pathologist Farmar's report. He read, "The victim's heart muscle was unable to maintain its intrinsic capability to contract without external vagus nerve stimulation. That's bizarre. Sounds like some kind of weird rapid electrical current discharge. Wait one."

Balfour tapped computer keys, scrolled pages. He shook his head and grinned. "Electromagnetic pulse, also known as EMP or transient electromagnetic disturbance. It may be manmade or natural, depending on the source. Natural, like from a lightning discharge. Manmade, from a nuclear bomb going off. Was anyone else present during this event?"

Ben flipped pages of Detective Follett's report and read, "His girlfriend, Allison Lister. Take a look."

"How weird," Eddie Balfour marveled after reading. He tapped more keys. "Wow. I've searched the net for any instances of individuals capable of initiating an EMP surge. Zero, Zilch, Nada. No individual cases, no database. This is Nobel Prize material. EMP capability arising in a human gene pool? The girlfriend is a prime candidate."

There was a shocked silence. Then Dr. Mason whispered. "Greg could be the source in our case, Eddie. He described a sensation of bright flashing lights during the event and postictal symptoms afterwards."

"Family history could be important," Balfour said.

Dr. Mason handed Eddie the reports from Detective Follett and Susan Moffitt. "Allison Lister." Balfour thought for a few seconds. "So Greg Moffitt is her great grandson. What if Grandma Allison had a weird chromosomal anomaly that could pass on genetic EMP capability? His mother Susan has had no similar incidents, so it could have skipped a generation and now manifests itself in Greg."

"Wow," Ben replied, stunned.

"Please keep me in the loop on this case, guys," Eddie said. "I'll keep looking, too."

15.

"More science fiction," Susan Moffitt muttered. After a terse argument with the doctors and her husband, she relented. A superficial shave biopsy from each provided skin cells for the tests. U.C. Irvine Hospital's genetics lab made no promises as to time for results. Chromosome mapping could take weeks, they said.

In the meantime, Susan Moffitt consulted an online genealogy website and found that her great, great grandparents, Thomas and Katherine Lister were involved in a similar situation in 1905. A second daughter Christine, age 22, was accused of murder of a boyfriend and released because of lack of evidence.

Susan printed the information out handed copies to the two Doctors. "I'm a nonbeliever," she announced. "This is purely coincidence. I do a lot better with arts and literature."

"Greg could be the answer," Mason said. "There's another possibility. Let's wait till our tests get back."

"Another possibility? What are you thinking, Ben?"

"All of the alleged historical EMP surge initiators in this family are female. Why Greg after four generations?"

Pete shook his head. "A mutation, perhaps? Does Greg have a sister?"

"Yes he does. Jennifer."

16.

Two weeks later the chromosome mapping was available. One of Susan's x-chromosomes showed an anomalous band. It was unidentified and thought to be of no significance. X-chromosomes in over ten thousand females did not carry the anomaly in a database search. The anomalous band was absent in Greg's x-chromosome. Dr. Mason shuffled pages of the report, followed lines of type with a fingertip. "Oh, Wow," He underlined the passage in pencil, handed it to Dr. Shaffer.

"The sister, Jennifer. The x-chromosome inherited from her mother."

"I don't understand, Pete. How can her brother Greg produce the EMP effect if he doesn't have it in his genes?"

"Let's ask Eddie."

"This is amazing. A case of synergism, with brother and sister both unaware of the potential of their combined effects," Eddie Balfour said when he saw the new test results and their conclusions. "Jennifer tuned in on her brother's anger and frustration, initiated the pulse. Greg transmitted it and Jeff Morgan will be on a pacemaker the rest of his life."

"Let's meet with the parents, and include Eddie Balfour."

17.

The Moffitt home. Later the same day:

"What's with Mom and Dad?" Greg wondered. "A conference? Dr. Mason, a UC Irvine Doc and an electronics geek. We're left out. Why?"

"I was doing homework in my room. I overheard Mom on the phone with Dr. Mason after their meeting," Jennifer told him. "About our need for anger management, yours and mine. Then something about separating us because of the accident with Jeff Morgan. She was totally angry, shouting, 'EMP baloney.' and hung up on him. I've got a bad feeling about this, Greg."

He tapped iPhone keys. "Oh holy crap, Jen. Look at this."

She read from the screen, "EMP. Electromagnetic pulse. A rapid electrical current discharge. Like from a nuclear bomb explosion." He scrolled a list of associated human symptoms. "It's the same as yours, Greg."

"Did we cause the heart arrhythmia thing with Jeff?" Greg asked.

She was silent for several minutes after reading Greg's iPhone screen. "We both had that postictal thing. Your event was flashing lights and you were unconscious. My symptoms were similar but not as severe."

Greg's face had assumed a worried look. "It's you and me, Jen. There were times when I was really pissed at Jeff when you weren't around. Nothing happened then."

"Maybe whatever we have isn't fully developed yet, Greg."

18.

One week later. 1045 hours:

"Just get in the car, both of you. I've had enough of this genetic and science fiction B.S.," Susan Moffitt muttered. "You're both seriously disturbed."

Greg viewed the psychiatrist's appointment card his mother handed him and complained. "Everything we've told you about our symptoms are true. We know that Dr. Mason had another doctor consult, plus an electronics geek from the UCI campus. We're not crazy, Mom," he insisted. He handed the card to his sister.

Jennifer angrily shredded the card and tossed the fragments on the floor. She cupped her hand to Greg's ear. "I've got it figured out now. I forward you the power or current, whatever the heck it is, and you transmit it."

Miss Evelyn Evans, the psychiatrist said, '''Well, what shall we talk about, you two?"

"We are not disturbed, Doctor. This could be a heart-stopping moment in your career. You had best let us leave before that happens," Greg told her.

As the paramedics performed CPR on Evans, Susan Moffitt stood by, horrified in the flash of sudden understanding, tears streaming down her face. She stammered to the police officers, "You must keep them separated."

EPILOG

Five years later the Moffitt siblings were reunited. They were unable to embrace because of the electronic screen separating them. Scientists and military types conversed in hushed tones outside the lab enclosure.

"Where are we, Greg? Jennifer asked.

"Fort George Meade, Maryland. U.S. Defense Department. I saw the sign when they drove us in. Are you okay, Jen?"

"They've got me wired up to these little gel pads on my skull connected to a bunch of computers."

"They are in for a surprise. You and I could be the next-generation weapon of mass destruction."

"I'm going to direct this EMP I've been afflicted with for a demonstration," his sister said.

"Ready when you are, Jen."

"Now, Greg."

An instant later the electronic screen separating them disintegrated in a thunderous roar of flame, sparks and lightning flashes. Then the computer screens went black.

THE END

Bio: Stories by E. S. Strout (M.D.), a.k.a. Gene or Gino, have appeared in Planet Magazine, Anotherealm, Millennium F&SF, Beyond-sf, Jackhammer (Eggplant Productions), Static Movement, and Bewildering Stories. And, of course, many of his stories have appeared in Aphelion (Collateral Damage, December 2013, and Immunity, May 2014).

E-mail: E. S. Strout (Humanoids: replace '_AT_' with '@')

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