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By twelve thirty…seven the reactor core had slowed； rolling off as the rods stepped into place。 Everyone nodded and breathed a sigh of relief； chalking the aberration up to the fact that it was an older fuel assembly ready for shuffling； with a higher number of spent rods and an overabundance of available neutrons； and hence was livelier than usual。
At twelve forty…five； the power slid back up。
It was surprising in its seeming willfulness； the meter arcing up as if some invisible arm wrestler had grabbed ahold of it。 The reactor hit the one hundred and three percent power mark and tripped every alarm in sight。
〃Sonofabitch！〃 Jenkel gasped。 He was reaching for the controls just as Sykes came hauling ass out of his office。
〃What the heck is this？〃 Sykes blurted。 He wanted explanations and logic。 He got neither。
〃Beats me；〃 Jenkel said。 〃The power just surged again。 It's getting pretty hot。〃
〃Pull her back to thirty percent；〃 Sykes said； eyeing the meters； less alarmed than irritated。 Jenkel nodded and cut it back。
It stayed down for even less time。 Then up up up again。
They continued this cat…and…mouse game for a while： borate and step down； borate and step down。 The reactor didn't seem to care。 It just kept climbing back into the maximum operating range。 Denying logic。 Defying them。
〃Sonofabitch；〃 Sykes muttered。 〃What is going on in there？〃 They'd been dicking with the reactor for almost two hours now； and his alarm/irritation ratio had long since flip…flopped。
Sykes rubbed his temples and stared at the meters。 The hum of the reactor made his fillings ache； put a hot lump of slag in the pit of his stomach。
He looked over to the glass…walled cubicles lining the side of the control room。 〃Ros！〃 he called out。 〃Did you get through to the NRC yet？〃
〃No； sir。〃 Rosalyn White's face popped out of the doorway。 She was a slender； pretty woman； the day shift clerk； and at the moment she looked very nervous。 〃I can't get through；〃 she said。
〃What about PEMA？〃
〃No； sir；〃 Ros said。 〃I can't get through to anyone。 No one's in。〃
〃Great；〃 Sykes muttered。 〃Keep trying！〃 he snapped； and was instantly sorry。 He softened his tone incrementally。 〃And patch me through to ChemTech。〃
Ros nodded； disappearing into her office； a moment later the console phone started blinking。 Sykes punched a line and picked up。 〃Control 。。。 〃 he said。 〃Sykes here。〃
〃Yeah； this is Bergens in ChemTech。〃 The voice was female； with a slight Southern twang。 〃I got coolant sample readings for ya。〃
〃Yeah？〃 Sykes replied。 〃So tell me some good news。
The ChemTech labs were a long； brightly illuminated set of rooms off in the main plex。 Like the control room； they were safety…sealed； redundantly filtered。 Becky Bergens sat at her station and stared at the coolant sample。 She was petite； pretty； with a thick mane of russet…colored hair and wide…spaced； almond…shaped eyes。
〃Oh； it's borated； all right；〃 Bergens said into the phone wedged in the crook of her neck。 〃You've got boric acid ing out the wazoo。 That's not your problem。〃 A furrow of worry lines etched into her brow。
〃The problem is 。。。 〃 she continued； then stopped； puzzling。 〃To tell you the truth； I don't know what the problem is。 I've never seen anything like this before。〃
〃What are you saying？〃
Bergens held the beaker aloft； squinting at the contents as if they might bite； the water inside swirled； transparently viscous； woven into liquid striations。 〃I'm saying；〃 she reiterated； 〃that something's not right about this water。〃
〃What； is it contaminated？〃
Bergens shook her head。 〃If it's a contaminant； it's a damn sneaky one。 It got past the carbon filters； the ion exchangers； and every other trap in this joint。
〃No；〃 she concluded； 〃this is something else。 This is new。〃 She held the vial up to the light； tilted it this way and that。 The water swirled lazily in its beaker。
〃Great；〃 Sykes moaned。 〃So the water's not right。 What's wrong with it？〃
〃You tell me；〃 she began。 〃It ain't too hot on absorbing neutrons； for one thing。 I'm double…checking； but I'll tell you： the moderator characteristics are really screwy。 And if the water doesn't slow this fission properly； there isn't enough of it in the world to keep your baby cool。〃
〃Yeah； well； thanks for the good news。〃
〃That's what I'm here for；〃 she replied。 Becky date…labeled the beaker with the coolant sample and shelved it next to other dated containers。 Then she went over to her puter terminal to double…check on moderator characteristics。
Slowly； the striations began to undulate； assuming a definitive pattern。 The patterns became much clearer； as the oily striations began to swoop and dip and swirl。
Over and over； over and over； over and over。
A figure…eight pattern。
Twenty seconds later； the liquid in the other beakers did； too。
Back in the reactor control room； Roger Sykes was beyond pissed。 He was getting nervous。 〃What do you think？〃 he asked Jenkel。
〃Not sure；〃 Fred said； looking a lot more worried than he sounded。 〃Dilution accident； maybe。〃 He pondered the point。 〃If untreated water got into the feed supply 。。。 〃
Sykes paled a little； pleting the thought。 God； throwing untreated water on a hot core would be like dousing a fire with gasoline。
Sykes hit a switch and activated the acoustical monitoring system； a series of strategically placed microphones that relayed the sound ing from the inside of the reactor vessel to the control room。
A deafening roar spilled out of the monitor speakers； the sound of coolant water pummeling the core into obedience。 Henkel； Jenkel； and Sykes leaned forward； scrutinizing the rumbling wall of noise。
Jenkel was the first to notice。 〃There；〃 he said。 〃Do you hear that？〃
Henkel and Sykes cocked an ear toward the sound。 It hit them within seconds of one another。 〃Jesus；〃 Sykes whispered； as the fleshy pan of his neck prickled with dread。
It was an eerie barbed filigree of sound that rose and fell and twisted； not beneath the roar or behind it but somehow in it； a frequency…shifting inside the water…sound。 As they listened one thing became clear。 It was no accident。 It was too plex and multi…timbral； too 。。。 intelligent。
The reactor was singing。
It was the scariest thing they'd ever heard。
〃No； no no。〃 Henkel sat in his chair； mumbling a mantra of pure denial； as though it were up to a vote。 〃No； no； no； no。 Not liking this。 Not one bit。〃
The sound reminded him of something he'd read back in college； something about seductive creatures who lived in the water and sang to the sailors in passing ships。 He reached into the recesses of memory for the name； felt it slap him in the face as it came back。
Sirens。
While over the speaker； under the water； an amorphous mesmerizing chorus shifted in and out of focus。
Luring them onto the rocks 。。。
〃Shit； what do we do now？〃 Henkel said； looking like a man who wished he'd gone into another line of work。
Behind them； Sykes paced in tight little circles； the engineer in him butting heads with the manager until it produced a whanging headache。 In the event of an emergency the utility's unwritten policy was to stay on…line until the shit hit the fan； and not to go public until things were either under control or uncontrollable。 In the post…Three Mile Island industry； emergency procedures were clear as they were limiting： do not guess。 Do not diagnose。 Treat the symptoms only。
And hope that that's enough。
Sykes looked at the clock。 Twelve fifty…eight。 〃The hell with this；〃 he said。 〃Trip it。〃
He turned to Jenkel。 〃Shut down； run a systems check； and isolate the problem。 I want this thing up and back on…line ASAP。
〃Bob；〃 he turned； singling out the younger man； 〃get ready to open up the auxiliary feed lines and start pumping。 Make sure we maintain the shutdown margin。〃 He looked around。 〃I'm notifying Biles。 The clock starts now。〃
He looked around。 〃Well； what are you waiting for？〃
Henkel nodded； relieved。 〃Not a thing。〃 He went over to the switch…bank。 〃Shutting her down；〃 he said。 〃Now。〃
Henkel cut power； and inadvertently held his breath。
。。。 While deep in the reactor vessel； hundreds of yards away； the magnetic ratcheting mechanism de…energized。 Over the monitor came a massive pressed roar as several tons of control rods slammed into the coolant pool； obliterating the song。
At twelve fifty…nine precisely； they shut the reactor down。
At 1 p。m。； it started back up。
All on its own。
Twenty…One
Home； such as it was； was a low…slung postmodern split…level with a shared private drive； snug on the low tolling hills of the country club's sixteenth hole。
Inside； Blake retreated to his study。 It was a quiet sanctuary with a southern exposure； recently redone in ebony inlay； burnished oak； and cloth…bound special editions。 A small fire crackled in the zero…clearance fireplace； scenting the air with hickory and redwood； a pair of bronze dogs nestled before it on the sprawling hand…carved Aubusson rug； positioned so as to gaze with blind； doting eyes on the face of their mast