“A hippie,” says Clara Dutton. “He’s going to a Love-In! I give up.”
Dr. Dutton puts on his jacket.
“One minute, you’re fed up,” says Clara. “You’re talking about retiring — to Alaska, yet! Now, you’ve turned into a cloak-and-dagger man.”
Dutton looks around. “My glasses?”
“Here they are, Dad,” says Dutton’s daughter, handing him his glasses.
“Can’t you at least tell me who phoned you at this ungodly hour?” asks Clara.
“Grandpa!” shouts Dutton’s grandson, running into the bedroom. “Grandpa! There’s a car, and they got guns!”
“Do they, now?” says Dutton, in mock serious tones. “Well, that’s serious. I’ll watch out. ” He picks up his grandson and kisses him.
Dutton’s daughter talks to the grandson. “Honey, you’ve been dreaming,” she says.
“I wish I were,” says Mrs. Dutton, looking out the window. A soldier marches as sentry while two other men in fatigues and battle helmets head for the front door of the Dutton house.
Meanwhile, Dr. Ruth Leavitt looks in a lab sterilizer.
“Nope,” she says, “uh-uh. Get someone else.”
“Doctor Leavitt, I told you: there’s a FIRE,” says an Air Force major.
“My experiment’s at the critical stage. I’ve been working around the clock. I can’t just leave now,” says Leavitt. walking to the other side of the lab.
“I want that new plate read as soon as it’s developed,” says Leavitt to an assistant.
“Yes, ma’am,” replies the lab assistant.
“My orders come from Doctor Robertson, the President’s science advisor, in Washington!” says the Air Force Officer. Dr. Leavitt lights up a cigarette and points.
“There’s a phone,” she says. “Pick it up. Call Robbie. Tell him I burned my draft card.”