"“Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to others when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trust. If you could have looked into my very heart then when I want to laugh; if you could have done so when the laugh arrived; if you could do so now, when King Laugh have pack up his crown, and all that is to him — for he go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time — maybe you would perhaps pity me the most of all.” I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked why. “Because I know!”"

"Do not think that I am not sad, though I laugh. See, I have cried even when the laugh did choke me. But no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he come just the same. Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, ‘May I come in?’ is not the true laughter. No! he is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person; he choose no time of suitability. He say, ‘I am here.’ Behold, in example I grieve my heart out for that so sweet young girl; I give my blood for her, though I am old and worn; I give my time, my skill, my sleep; I let my other sufferers want that so she may have all. And yet I can laugh at her very grave — laugh when the clay from the spade of the sexton drop upon her coffin and say ‘Thud, thud!’ to my heart, till it send back the blood from my cheek. My heart bleed for that poor boy — that dear boy, so of the age of mine own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with his hair and eyes the same. There, you know now why I love him so. And yet when he say things that touch my husband-heart to the quick, and make my father-heart yearn to him as to no other man — not even you, friend John, for we are more level in experiences than father and son — yet even at such a moment King Laugh he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear, ‘Here I am! here I am!’ till the blood come dance back and bring some of the sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall — all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears come; and, like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on with our labour, what it may be.”"

"One and all we felt that the holy calm that lay like sunshine over the wasted face and form was only an earthly token and symbol of the calm that was to reign for ever."

"Seven years ago we all went through the flames. And the happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth the pain we endured."

"He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two nights before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror. It must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears."

"He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day; and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind."

"Oh, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, with such unknown horrors as it has for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am to-night, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play, with “virgin crants and maiden strewments.” I never liked garlic before, but to-night it is delightful! There is peace in its smell; I feel sleep coming already. Good-night, everybody."

"The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his hand to me; with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of."

"No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be."

"I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air."

"I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us. A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea."

"I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him."

"It is said of Mrs. Radcliffe that, when writing her now almost forgotten romances, she shut herself up in absolute seclusion, and fed upon raw beef, in order to give her work the desired atmosphere of gloom, tragedy and terror. If one had no assurance to the contrary, one might well suppose that a similar method and regimen had been adopted by Mr. Bram Stoker while writing his new novel Dracula."

"Sir Michael Marsh: Not at all. At the very least it would seem like someone is trespassing on what is still government property and I shall certainly contact the appropriate authorities. Personally I wanted to knock the building down when we'd finished with it, but it was too expensive. As the minister put it, nature is the best demolition expert. However, let me assure you, you probably couldn't even spark a fire in that damp old place, let alone a nuclear explosion."

"Richard Cole: Why did you build it there?"

"Sir Michael Marsh: He saw a box. For all we know, it could have contained a picnic. (Looks at his watch) I last visited Omega One twenty years ago. We removed anything that could possibly be dangerous when we dismantled the place. It was quite a job, I can tell you, transporting everything out of the wood."

"Sir Michael Marsh: I'm sorry?"

"Sir Michael Marsh: They couldn't... For a number of reasons. As you know, you can't just buy uranium. Even dictators in countries like Iraq have found it impossible to get supplies. Let's suppose these villagers of yours owned a uranium mine. It still wouldn't help. How would they process th stuff? How would they get the technical know-how and the resources?"

"Richard Cole: Maybe someone wants to get it running again."

"Richard Cole: But Matt saw something..."

"Richard Cole: Why did you build it in the middle of a wood?"

"Sir Michael Marsh: Yes, Mr Cole. The radiation would indeed kill you. Which is why, when uranium is moved, it is carried in heavy, lead-lined boxes."

"Richard Cole: Except it would kill you... If you held it in your hand."

"Matt: Like the box I saw!"

"Matt: What's wrong with coal?"

"Sir Michael Marsh: A nuclear bomb contains devastating power. It can destroy an entire city, as it did, in the last war, at Hiroshima. In tests in the Nevada Desert, a small bomb blew out a crater so deep, you could have fitted the entire Empire State Building into it. The power of the bomb is the energy released in the explosion. And that energy comes from splitting the atom. Are you with me so far? A nuclear power station works in much the same way. It splits the atom in a metal called uranium but instead of producing an explosion, which is uncontrolled, the energy is released gradually, in the form of heat. The heat is fantastic. It turns water into steam, which then turns the turbines of an energy generator and out comes electricity. That's all a nuclear power station does. It turns water into electricity."

"Sir Michael Marsh: Gas, oil, coal... They're too expensive. And one day they'll run out. But uranium is incredible stuff. One tiny piece of it, if you held it in your hand, has enough power to keep a million electric heaters running non-stop for twenty-four hours."

"Sir Michael Marsh: (Ignoring Matt) At the heart of any nuclear power station is a nuclear reactor. The reactor is basically a massive concrete box - and it is in here that our controlled explosion takes place. The uranium is surrounded by long sticks called control rods. When you lift up the control rods, the explosion starts. And the higher you lift them, the more powerful the explosion becomes. The reactor is the most dangerous part of the station. You have to remember what happened at Chernobyl, in Russia. One mistake here and you risk what is known as an excursion, an explosion which might kill hundreds or even thousands of people and destroy a vast area of land for years. When the government began to think about building nuclear stations, about fifty years ago, they set up a number of experimental stations where they could study reactors in action and make sure they were safe. Omega One was the first of these experiments and I helped design and build it. It ran for less than eighteen months. And after we'd finished with it, we shut it down and left it to rot in the pine forest thaty surrounds it."

"Sir Michael Marsh: Well, it had to be somewhere out of the way. And there's an underground river that runs through the wood. That was the main reason. A nuclear power station requires a constant supply of water, you see."

"Richard Cole: It is a possibility."

"Sir Michael Marsh: You think that someone is trying to start up Omega One?"

"Sir Michael Marsh: An impossibility, I'm afraid. (To Matt) How much do you know about nuclear power, young man?"

"Sir Michael Marhs:And what conclusion have you drawn from all this, Mr Cole?"

"Richard Cole: Yes."

"Richard Cole: Matt couldn't see very much in the darkness, Sir Michael. But he said that the men were wearing strange, bulky clothes. I wondered if they might have been radiation suits."

"Matt: ...Not a lot."

"Sir Michael Marsh: You say there were electric lights at the power station? And the boy heard a humming noise?"

"Richard Cole: I've been through. I'm meant to cover it. Me, Kate and Julia - They're the girls you saw downstairs - We've all got our own territories. I've got Lesser Malling. Lucky me!"

"Richard Cole: Yes sir."

"Sir Michael Marsh: And he saw a lorry. Unloading some sort of box?"

"Matt: Yes. Do you know it?"

"Sir Michael Marsh: Well, let me tell you a bit about it. I'm sure you don't want a physics lesson, but you have to understand. We'll start with the nuclear bomb. You know, of course, what that is."

"Richard Cole: I'm sorry, Sir Michael. It seems like we've wasted your time."

"Matt: I might have."

"Richard Cole: A story?"

"Richard Cole: Alright. Come upstairs. My name is Richard Cole."

"Richard Cole: Busy being busy. Alright?"

"Matt: Busy doing what?"

"Matt: Look, maybe I can help you. You're a journalist. Maybe I've got a story?"

"Matt: I'm Matt."