"I know," replied Martha in a wearied voice, "Thing is, she’s frightening my boys with these Gluskabe stories."

"Why would they be frightened by only a myth?"

"Well, Sam, it would appear that Gluskabe visits Nana for a reason other than just her good company. She says he’s here to explain the end of the world - which is due any day now, according to Nana."

The second Per saw her, he knew she was upset. It wasn’t anything that she actually said, for she remained as reticent as ever. No, he knew by watching her hands. Sam had beautiful hands. Long, tapered fingers meant to play a musical instrument skillfully. Tonight, those hands could not seem to hold still. Per tore his focus from her hands and paid attention to what she was saying.

"Do you ever watch the news casts on TV?"

"Of course," replied Per.

"I can’t believe everything that is happening right now." Sighed Sam.

"The total global situation seems to be getting worse each day."

"What makes you say things are getting worse?" asked Per.

Sam was surprised at that question. "How can you ask that? God, just turn on the TV or pick up a paper! Wars, genocide, so-called ethnic cleansings seem to be happening everywhere. These days, it seems that if people aren’t literally killing each other off they are, at the very least, chronically lying to each other. From the heads of nations on down. When the hell did having morals become a liability?"

Per sat quietly for a moment before replying. "Perhaps, everything is the same it has always been since the very beginning of mankind. The simple difference between 1998 BC and 1998 AD may only be the advent of media coverage."

"What do you mean?"

"I am saying that it is only within the last fifty years or so that the masses have no longer been sheltered from the harsh realities of the world around them.

Television, newspapers, radios, computers ........ people now have instant, multi-media global access. Through you evening TV newscasts, you are now able to get a steady daily diet of war, famine, disease and disasters ..... all streaming into your home by way of a little, square box plugged into the wall.

It makes it impossible to stay uninformed."

"Are you saying that people have always been this wretched?" asked Sam.

"I think, Samantha, that kindness has possibly never been an innate trait of this civilization. After all, it wasn’t until 1945 that the notion of Crimes Against Humanity was even conceived."

"What an odd way of putting things you have, Per." Once again, Sam realized how little she knew about him. She tried to recall what knowledge she had of Scandinavians and quickly realized it was extremely limited. Despite the passion and caring she had found in him, there seemed to be an esoteric edge to Per.

Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, yet the feeling nagged at her.

"Enough of this distressing talk of war and corruption. Come have another glass of wine with me and then I must leave. It is getting late."

Sam accepted the glass Per held out to her. By tacit agreement they spoke of other things for a time. Far more pleasant topics. It became quite late and Sam, to her abashment, could no longer suppress her frequent yawns.

"I will go now and let you get some much required sleep." Per grinned, as he started to rise from the couch. But Sam stopped him with a light hand on his arm.

"Stay tonight."

"Are you sure?" questioned Per.

"I’m sure," Sam replied firmly. "Besides, you must admit, it would certainly be convenient. You’d already be at work in the morning."

Much later, after Sam had fallen into a deep sleep, Per softly left the house and rapidly walked out to Hockamock Head. As he silently made his way, he surveyed Happy Joyce’s property. All appeared tranquil. Both Happy and Spike were apparently slumbering soundly. Per walked to the very edge of the cliff overlooking the water and patiently waited. He knew they were coming. He had been receiving internal signals all day. It was just a matter of time now.

Per had been mistaken. Despite the fact that his house stood entirely dark, Happy was not asleep. In fact, he was wide awake. One of the admittedly few benefits of achieving old age was the reduced requirement for sleep. Stretched out comfortably in the old Chevy’s back seat, with Spike asleep on the floor beside him, Happy had just begun to think about dozing off when he’d heard someone approaching. Spike’s hearing not being what it once was, of course, it had taken the animal a bit longer to detect the presence of someone unfamiliar to him. But Happy had quickly muzzled him before he could sound the alarm.

It was a clear night with a fine moon. Happy had no trouble at all making out who it was wandering around on his property in the middle of the night. The question was, why? So, gently holding Spike’s collar, he was content to wait patiently. Because, that was one of the other benefits of old age ........ you find you have plenty of time on your hands.

Per kept his vigil for almost an hour longer before he saw the airship just to the left of Marshall Island. Stealthily, it moved invariably towards him, coming to a complete standstill only a few yards above his head. A portal in the underbelly of the ship silently slid open, emitting a peculiar green glow that fell downward, directly onto Per’s waiting form. Within seconds, his body began to disintegrate. Slowly at first, then swiftly picking up speed, Per began to disappear from his head to his feet. Molecule by molecule. When he was completely gone the craft’s door closed, sealing off the strange verdant light.

Then, as silently as it had arrived, the ship withdrew.

The night was, once again, completely still. The hush was broken only once by the sound of Happy bellowing,

"Holy shit!"

The beginnings of a working theory hit Sam like a thunderbolt.

It was her monthly excursion to the Mainland for supplies. With the extensive shopping list completed, Sam was treating herself to lunch and a salty rimmed margarita at THE MEX before heading back to catch the late afternoon ferry.

Sitting alone in a corner booth, she was mulling over the recent happenings, trying to gain some sort of prospective on it all as she ate.

The very idea was so ludicrous that it caused her to choke on her chicken burrito. Got to take it easy on that hot sauce, the waitress mumbled, as she quickly brought Sam a glass of ice water.

Sam put her fork down and found her cigarettes and lighter. Try to think sensibly, she admonished herself wordlessly. Deliberately, one by one, she mentally began to lay out the recent events, trying to place them into some kind of order.

Where to begin? Her abduction. Happy’s abduction. Start with those. There had undeniably been many similarities between the two unrelated incidents. The same type of unfamiliar craft, light and faceless beings. Could they both have dreamed it? No, Sam didn’t believe in the possibility of that strong a coincidence. Besides, what about the disc - like object? If, as Happy claimed, it had really come out of his eye, wasn’t that some sort of physical evidence?

Next there were the enigmatic radio beacons. What if they hadn’t meant to be contact signals to Earth at all? Perhaps the signals really weren’t overtures from a friendly, distant civilization as she had assumed. What if they had simply been mistakenly intercepted?

And what about Wanda’s recent visions? Well, Sam reasoned, why not? Christians claimed to see Christ; Buddhists saw Buddha, so why couldn’t Wanda see Gluskabe?