Collin Slater caught his breath. In KMPR's studio, the whole console was bouncing. Instinctively, he spread his arms wide and grabbed hold. Glass clinked, walls popped and the window waved. Coffee sloshed on his shirt, papers slid, the Dallas Cowboy replica swung back and forth, and his hanging ceiling fan started an odd circular motion.

In the soundproof booth Max flew out of his seat, threw his two hundred-twenty pounds against the transmitter and held it flush to the wall. He watched helplessly as disks stacked too high, slid off his console. Coke sloshed and splattered on his papers and a hairline crack appeared in the ceiling plaster. Then it stopped.

Still seated on the pier, Sam's eyes steadily grew larger. The jiggling water suddenly turned to an odd ripple -- a wave crossing the Bay at lightening speed. "Uh oh!" he said, swinging his legs up half a second too late. The small wave smashed against his feet, hit the pier, rocked the boats, then dissipated.

Seely's building was still in motion. She whispered a short prayer and waited. At last the building quieted, the dishes stopped tinkling and the elevators quit banging. Still she stood motionless -- watching, listening and waiting. The last object to stop swaying was a heavy, full-length mirror on her living room wall.

When the quake ended at KMPR, Max quickly checked the equipment and retook his seat. He turned dials, flipped switches and glanced at Collin. Then he grinned. Less than three feet away, on the other side of the sound proof window, Collin was staring at him, wide eyed and shaken. With mischievous blue eyes, Max pulled his hanging mike closer, "Not from around here, are ya?"