Then came the scandals in the Fulton administration. Vladimir, Pentagon higher-ups, and others had decided to transfer some of their special projects overseas. It was the smart thing to do at the time. It took them out of range of the eyes of the local media and protected them from the simmering ethnic strife leftover from the breakup of the EU. With the march of fascist capitalism in South America, the projects could be managed easily by large infusions of cash, otherwise known as bribes.

Now, as he headed for the lab, Harrison wondered where it would all end.

I should retire. I'm getting too old for this. My kids speak more Spanish than English now. It's time to quit. Upon entering the lab, he knew they were in trouble. The sphere had grown twenty percent in size. Instead of the wraith-like bauble from another space and time, it was angry red. Portions were even splotched with purple to black vortices. The roar of the equipment pounded in his ears.

"What the hell is going on?" he yelled at Dimitri.

"We don't know. Obviously we're having problems. You're not helping by standing there yelling."

"Well, fix it, damn it! It looks ominous."

"We're working on it," answered the scientist. "It might be going unstable."

"Then shut the damn thing off!"

"We've tried. The theoretically predicted shutdown mechanisms are no longer working. What do you suggest we try?"