"Okay, why can’t I see anything?"

"Can you not? Oh, sorry. Turn around." Broward carefully turned in place. He felt some sort of motion at his back. Almost at once, he could see the room, though everything was in white cartoon outlines on a red background.

"We can’t pass sound or the heat and shock would kill us, and we can’t pass light or the radiation would kill us."

"Radiation? I thought you said these things were called warpers?"

"They are, and the only way we can break the bombardment and still get out alive is to H-bomb our own camp. That’s why we need the suits."

"What?" Broward had the sinking feeling he had taken ship with a psycho.

"It’s the only thing I could think of. You don’t know how long it’s taken me to rig one. They’re illegal, too. I had to restructure the power system. I’ve been up for two days, working. Believe me, I don’t like doing this. I’m going to lose all my notes, all my equipment, everything." The alien’s voice ended in a sob. "Centuries of work."

"Yeah, and I’m gonna lose my life. Are you crazy? We can’t survive an H-bomb blast."

"Yes, we can, in these suits. For about an hour. That’s all the time we’ll have to get into the old subway system and lose ourselves in the tunnels..."