The clock ticked down to zero. The bomb didn’t detonate.
Oppenheimer, the Project Director, tore off his blast-goggles. “Crapola! Send some techs out there to investigate.”
Tilson and Jowolski’s jeep bounced across ten miles of rough Alamogordo desert and arrived at Ground Zero. They climbed the rickety suspension tower and opened an access panel on “the gadget.”
“Heck,” Jowolski said, “here’s your darned problem.”
He reached in and retracted a tiny, wriggling mouse.
“Cute little bugger,” Tilson said. He extended his own hand into the device. “Looks like he was chewing on this wi–”
The Atomic Age sprang forth.
Author’s note: I love “Secret Histories.”
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