The mission, the secret has been compromised. Our own expedition was a success in as much as our craft — a lightweight, one-man, helium-propelled bicycle of an aircraft — returned to base. What none of us had banked on was that we would be pursued by a friend. (M.F., was that you?) His craft however, was not so provident. Our intelligence reports tell us that he chased after us, that he out-performed us in the air, that he then went off the radar and never came back. As the pilot, I am angered and shamed; as his friend I am saddened and confused. Intelligence tells us that he had been coerced by Communists. So many plausible explanations, so little time to find him. We spring immediately to action. Our evidence leads us to an elementary school. We question the teachers, the students, we study the equations scribbled on the math class’ chalkboard. Where could he have gone?