slowed to where you could see them as individuals,
and the motor housing began to smoke.

"See?" I yelled at them. "Believe me now?"

The blades came to a standstill and the black smoke oozed toward the
ceiling.

"See?" I yelled again. "Look at that fan!"

Their eyes showed their astonishment. The smoke began to disappear in
the stillness. "What about that? Now do you believe me?"

Maybe they did. No one said anything. They took me back to my room.
About an hour or so later they came after me again. The chair felt no
more comfortable than it ever had, though it was beginning to shape
itself to my seat. The same faces were there, but the air was a little
different this time. On the desk, where I had seen sit no one but J.
Edgar Hoover were a half dozen fans, plugged to an extension cord that
snaked away and lost itself in a dark corner. My ears twitched
hopefully. Maybe this was going to get me out of here. One of the
younger men spoke up.

"Mr. Miller," he said briskly, "can you stop these fans as you did,
apparently, the other?"

I started to tell him that "apparently" wasn't the right word. One of
the older men broke in.

"One moment," he said. "Can you stop any one of these fans, or all of
them? Any particular one, and leave the rest alone?"

I thought I could. "Which one?" There were five fans whirring silently
away.

"Well ... the one in the center."

* * * * *

The one in the center. One out of five. Hold your breath, Peter
Ambrose, hold it now or you can hold your breath the rest of your
natural life and no one will ever know, nor ever care. The fan in the
center began to smoke and the blades choked off abruptly.

I said, "The one on the far left ... the one next to it ... the far
right ... and four makes five." I watched the last blade make its last
swing. "Has anybody got a cigarette?"

I got a full package. While I tore off the cellophane someone held a
light. I filled my lungs so full they creaked and sat back defiantly.

"So now what?"

No one knew just what. Two men slipped out and the others drew
together their chairs for a whispered conference full of dark looks in
my direction. I sat quietly and smoked until even that got on my
nerves. Finally I broke it up with a yell.

"Can't you fatheads make up your minds? Don't you know what you want?
Do you think I'm going to sit here all night?"

That was a stupid question; I knew I was going to sit there unt