"Frederic Ulysses Noble, what on earth are you doing up there, come down and eat, your supper's getting cold!" blared mother's agitated voice.
"Dear, might as well put a plate in the oven, he's started a new project," said dad, as he settled down in front of the television in his easy chair with a belch. TV remote in one hand, the other, wielding a toothpick.
It was a pleasant spring evening in a small Iowa town, a young whiz kid was determined, and something exciting was in the air.
"Parochial minds simply cannot grasp the concept of desperate genius," muttered Freddy to himself in a restless voice as he soldered circuits and arranged transistors in the cluttered confines of his room. Pausing, he pulled off his New York Yankees cap to scratch the top of his head through thick red hair.
Reaching for a licorice whip, popping it into his mouth, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He sighed and peered out of his bedroom window into the night, at bright stars that filled the sky. He often fantasized about those stars, about distant galaxies and the infinite possibilities of life among them, for they were the tangible things of this one very special boy's dreams.
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