Chapter 2: Breakdown

Ken Maddox could not remember a time when he had not wanted to become a scientist. Maybe it started when his father first invited him to look through a microscope. That was when he was a very small boy, but he could still remember the revelation of that experience. He remembered how it had seemed, on looking away from the lens, that the whole world of normal vision was only a fragment of that which was hidden behind curtains and shrouds and locked doors. Only men, like his father, with special instruments and wisdom and knowledge, could ever hope to understand the world of the unknown, which the ordinary person did not even suspect.

Now, at sixteen, Ken was tall, with black hair that had an annoying curl to it. He was husky enough to be the main asset of the football squad of Mayfield High School in his senior year. He knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do. He would be one of those men who lived beyond the mere surface of the world, and who would seek to understand its deep and hidden meanings.

Ken thought of this as he watched Maria at the telescope. What a difference between knowing the comet as this instrument showed it, and with the knowledge revealed by modern astronomy, and knowing it as the average person in Mayfield did.

Ken and Maria stayed in the observatory until the comet had almost disappeared below the horizon. Mrs. Maddox brought a snack of sandwiches and punch.

“I always do this when I see the observatory dome open,” she said, smiling. “I never know when Ken’s going to quit his stargazing and come in for the night.”

“We’re about through, Mom. I’ll drive Maria over to her place and be back in a little while.”

“I’m going to loan him the stamps,” Maria said.

Mrs. Maddox looked at Ken in mock severity. “You mean you forgot again?”

“No--I remembered,” Ken said lamely. “After the post office closed, that is. Anyhow, Maria has plenty.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Maddox, “I know who’s going to have to mail my invitations if they’re ever to get out in time for the party!”

After he and Maria had finished the snack, Ken started his car again. The engine had cooled to normal temperature, but he watched the indicator closely as he drove. Nothing seemed right about the action of the car. The engine had turned over sluggishly when he pressed the starter button, as if the battery were almost dead. Now it lugged heavily, even when going downhill.

“The whole thing’s haywire,” Ken said irritably. “It acts like the crankcase is full of sand or something.”

“Let me walk the rest of the way,” said Maria. “You take the car back, and I’ll bring the stamps over on my way to school in the morning.”

“No, we’re almost there. Nothing much more could go wrong than already has.”

When they reached Maria’s place they found Professor and Mrs. Larsen sitting on the porch.

“We’ve been watching the comet,” Maria said excitedly. “Ken let me look at it through his telescope.”

“A remarkable event,” said Professor Larsen. “I feel very fortunate to be alive to witness it. My generation hasn’t had this kind of privilege before. I was a child when Halley’s comet appeared.”

“I’ve been trying to tell Maria what a lucky break this is, but she agrees with Granny Wicks,” said Ken.

“Oh, I do not!” Maria snapped.

“Granny Wicks?” Professor Larsen inquired. “Your grandmother?”

“No.” Ken tried to cover the professor’s lack of familiarity with American idioms. “She’s just the town’s oldest citizen. Everybody likes her and calls her Granny, but her mind belongs to the Middle Ages.”

“You hear that, Papa?” cried Maria. “Her mind belongs to the Middle Ages, and he says I’m like Granny Wicks!”

Maria’s mother laughed gently. “I’m sure Ken didn’t mean your mind is of the Middle Ages, too, dear.”

Ken flushed. “Of course not. What I mean is that Granny Wicks thinks the comet is something mysterious and full of omens, and Maria says she sort of thinks the same about it.”

“I didn’t say anything about omens and signs!”

“Well, except for that...”

“Except for that, I suppose we are all in agreement,” said Professor Larsen slowly. He drew on his pipe and it glowed brightly in the darkness. “The whole universe is a terrible place that barely tolerates living organisms. Almost without exception it is filled with great suns that are flaming, atomic furnaces, or dead cinders of planets to which a scrap of poisonous atmosphere may cling. Yes, it is indeed a great miracle that here in this corner of the universe conditions exist where living things have found a foothold. We may be glad that this is so, but it does not pay man to ever forget the fierceness of the home in which he lives. Earth is merely one room of that home, on the pleasant, sunny side of the house. But the whole universe is his home.”

“That’s the thing I’ve been trying to say,” Ken answered. “We can know this without being afraid.”

Maria’s father nodded. “Yes. Fear is of no use to anyone. Awe, respect, admiration, wonder, humility--these are all necessary. But not fear.”

Maria turned from the group. “I’ll bring the stamps, Ken,” she said.

“Won’t you come in and have some cake?” Mrs. Larsen asked.

“No, thanks. Mother fed us before we left my place. I’m afraid I couldn’t eat any more.”

In a moment Maria was back. “Here are two whole sheets,” she said. “I hope that will be enough.”

“Plenty. I’ll see you get repaid tomorrow. Good night, everybody.”

“Good night, Ken.”

He moved down the walk toward his car and got in. When he pressed die starter button the engine groaned for a few seconds and came to a complete stop. He tried again; there was only a momentary, protesting grind.

Ken got out and raised the hood and leaned over the engine in disgusted contemplation. There was no visible clue to the cause of the trouble.

“Is your battery dead?” Professor Larsen called.

“No. It’s something else.” Ken slammed the hood harder than he had intended. “I’ll have to leave it here overnight and pick it up in the morning.”

“I can push you home with my car, or at least give you a ride.”

“No, please don’t bother,” Ken said. “I’ll tow it home with Dad’s car tomorrow. I’d just as soon walk, now. It’s only a few blocks.”

“As you wish. Good night, Ken.”

“Good night, Professor.”

Ken’s clock radio woke him the next morning. He reached over to shut off the newscast it carried. There was only one item any commentator talked about now, the comet. Ken wondered how they could get away with a repetition of the same thing, over and over, but they seemed able to get an audience as long as they kept the proper tone of semi-hysteria in their voices.

As his hand touched the dial to switch it off, something new caught Ken’s attention. “A curious story is coming in from all parts of the country this morning,” the announcer said. “Auto mechanics are reporting a sudden, unusually brisk business. No one knows the reason, but there seems to be a virtual epidemic of car breakdowns. Some garagemen are said to be blaming new additives in gasoline and lubricating oil. It is reported that one major oil company is undertaking an investigation of these charges, but, in the meantime, no one really seems to have a good answer.

“In connection with the comet, however, from widely scattered areas comes the report that people are even blaming these engine failures on our poor, old comet. In the Middle Ages they blamed comets for everything from soured cream to fallen kingdoms. Maybe this modern age isn’t so different, after all. At any rate, this comet will no doubt be happy to get back into open space, where there are no Earthmen to blame it for all their accidents and shortcomings!”

Ken switched off the radio and lay back on the pillow. That was a real choice one--blaming the comet for car breakdowns! Page Granny Wicks!

The breakdowns were curious, however. There was no good reason why there should be a sudden rash of them. He wondered if they had actually occurred, or if the story was just the work of some reporter trying to make something out of his own inability to get into a couple of garages that were swamped by the usual weekend rush. This was most likely the case.