Michael Malone - Weebly

Boston, huh? Got Mrs. Haig out there waiting anyhow.
Hypertensive, same as you, Winslow. Ought to make
you both take up watercolors or this yogi stuff or
something.
Well, you never can tell about the heart."
That had been Monday, of course. At that time Dr.
Otto Scaper had not told his patients how peculiar he
found their particular symptoms. How, given the results
of all the tests he knew of, their symptoms made no
sense to him at all.
North of the marshlands at Operation Archangel the
team of dedicated, diligent young scientists worked
cheerfully. Frankly, job security was a comfort,
considering that the golden grant-filled days of Sputnikchasing
were now, in 1976, as out of style as the Nehru
jacket Dr. Svatopluk had bought in those old times to
go drink cocktails with a liberal senator. The young men
all knew of MIT graduates standing in un-Euclidean
unemployment lines, and even if this base wasn't Cape
Canaveral, still, the pay was good and the equipment
was great. It was still science. It was research. They