We were going to add one more.

We were going to create a volcano in the Atlantic Ocean. More specifically, a volcanic island, like Surtsey. This was Project RUMOKO.

I'm going down again, said Martin. Sometime during the next few hours, I guess. I'd appreciate it if you would do me the favor of keeping an eye on that goddam machine next time around. I'd make it up to you, some way.

Okay, I said. Let me know when the next time is, as soon as you know it, and I'll try to hang around the control room. In case something does go wrong. I'll try to do what I did earlier, if there's no one around who can do any better.

He slapped me on the shoulder.

That's good enough for me. Thanks.

You're scared.

Yeah.

Why?

This damned thing seems jinxed. You've been my good-luck charm. I'll buy you beers from here to hell and back again, just to hang around. I don't know what's wrong. Just bad luck, I guess.

Maybe, I said.

I stared at him for a second, then turned my attention to my drink.

The isothermic maps show that this is the right place, the right part of the Atlantic, I said. The only thing I'm sacred about is none of my business.

What's that? he asked.

There are various things about magma, I said, and some of them frighten me.

What do you mean? he asked.

You don't know what it's going to do, once it's released. It could be anything from a Krakatoa to an Etna.

The magma itself may be of any composition. Its exposure to water and air could produce any results.

I thought we had a guarantee it was safe?

A guess. An educated guess, but only a guess. That's all.

You're scared?

You bet your ass.

We're in danger ... ?