When the door bell rang, Carolyn smiled to herself, gave the oatmeal another loving stir, and shut off the burner. Seven- thirty. She could always depend on Tom to come straight home from work. Thanks to his outstanding punctuality, her breakfasts were at the peak of perfection every time. Now, if she could only train him to remember his key. . . .

The door bell rang again, frantically. Carolyn's smile widened to a grin. Tom was bringing his latest invention home from work today. This one had been almost two years in the creating.

She pulled the door open. Her husband was standing on the porch, puffing, bracing his burden against the wall of the house.

"This is going into the basement, I hope?" she asked as he wrestled his masterpiece through the door. He grunted affirmatively.

She kicked the door shut and scuttled in front of him to turn on the basement light. She repressed the urge to call, "Be careful!" as he felt his way down the steps. The last time she distracted him with her well-meant warning, he had lost control of the xenon wave transducer he was carrying, tumbled down the steps with it, and broken his ankle in three places.

She heard him slide the monstrosity onto his work bench. Good thing she had tidied up, or there would be nowhere to set it down. Tom was a genius, but neatness was not one of his gifts. The basement was an obstacle course of boxes, tools, electronic components, wood scraps, rags, and bizarre machines: the debris of Tom's dreams. They required so much time and space and attention that Carolyn sometimes thought it a blessing that she had never been able to get pregnant.

Their children were the virtual particle splitter, the xenon wave transducer, the dimensional interfacer, and now -- whatever this was. Someone with Tom's intelligence and creativity should be one of the top scientists at the lab, not the janitor/night watchman.

She had suggested that a university degree might help him advance up the corporate ladder; he had rejected the idea with such force as to render further discussion inadvisable. Perhaps Tom was right about higher education. Her own bachelor's degree in psychology had not eased her path in the least. Her fellow workers at the First Encounters Childhood Socialization Centre managed perfectly well with a community college certificate or no formal qualifications at all. If she happened to mention any knowledge she had garnered in her early childhood development courses, they sniggered and reprimanded her for putting on airs. She had sent out many resumes: in every case, she was deemed overqualified, underexperienced, or both.

After giving Tom a few moments alone with his newest offspring, Carolyn padded down the stairs to kiss him hello. His homecoming was the highlight of her day. Every morning, six days out of seven, he would arrive at precisely seven-thirty, and they would have breakfast together before she went to work. That was her creative outlet: breakfast. Her matinal banquets extended far beyond frozen waffles and bacon and eggs and toast. Every night, she set her alarm to rouse her at spartan hours so that she would have time to create feasts for the palate and the heart. This morning, the menu was not exceptional: oatmeal, muffins and fresh fruit. But the oatmeal was the old-fashioned kind that took its own sweet time to cook, the muffins had just come out of the oven, and the fruit was from the local organic orchard. For Tom and Carolyn, breakfast was truly the most important meal of the day.

After the obligatory endearments and kisses, they stood with their arms intertwined, gazing reverently at the whatever-it-was.

Tom's crowning achievement sat on a thick, kidney-shaped metal base with a multitude of access doors. Most of it was covered with a plexiglass dome. There was a hopper on the smaller end.

"What is it, darling?" she asked, trying not to sound skeptical.

"An anarchy generator."

"An anarchy generator?" She looked significantly at the clutter around her. "Don't you think we have enough anarchy here already?"

He laughed and kissed her again. His kisses made even his most lengthy technical explanations a joy.

"This is anarchy at the subatomic level, sweetheart. You put matter in the hopper here," Tom said, pointing to the hopper, "and the machine takes the atoms apart and stores the components."

"Doesn't that release an awful lot of energy?" She knew enough science to grasp Tom's basic premises, but never quite enough to follow his thought processes to their conclusion.

"Yes, indeed. Some of the energy is stored, and some of it is used to run the machine. Nothing to plug in -- once it's initialized, it goes on forever. As long as you feed it, that is." He picked up some wood scraps, put them in the hopper, and reached for one of the access doors.

"Don't touch that dial!" Carolyn said sternly. "Remember -- breakfast comes first. I have to be at work in good time this morning."

"Okay, okay --" he said. "Once I get the atom reassembler ready to run, you won't have to work any more. We'll just make everything we need right here."

She smiled warily. His ambitious enterprises usually resulted in big messes to clean up.

"You mean, like the replicators in Star Trek?"

"In theory. The reassembler constructs the atoms and strings them together, like spelling out words with the letters in alphabet soup. It'll be crude at first, but eventually we'll be able to create anything we have a template for."

She took a deep breath. "So, this machine will create a primordial soup we can re-structure?"

"Sort of. Only it will be more like a primordial cloud."

"Like the chaos before God created the universe..."

"Or just before the Big Bang." Tom smiled triumphantly.

"How long will it take you to build the reassembler?"

"Dunno -- maybe six months or so. In the meanwhile, put all our garbage in the hopper. By the time the reassembler is ready, we'll have lots of raw material to work with."

"If nothing else, this darn thing simplifies garbage disposal." Carolyn said to herself four months later, as she deposited the day's waste in the hopper. "No landfill, no odour, no germs. But where does it all go?"

It was hard to imagine that everything she had put into the hopper was still stored under that dome: there was no dust, no residue, nothing to indicate the presence of disassembled atoms. The work bench had broken under the weight after the second month. They had barely been able to lever the generator off the broken boards onto the cement floor, sliding it next to the dimensional interfacer. She wondered what would happen if Tom did not finish the reassembler in time. Would the generator get heavy enough to break through the floor and eventually sink to centre of the earth?

The machine shuddered, sending quake-like vibrations through the whole basement. Something was happening under the dome.

The air trapped by the plexiglass was becoming foggy. Swirls of energy coiled around each other, gathering at the centre like a dynamic Gordian knot. The primordial cloud had come to life.

Without warning, the dancing node of energy exploded with an deafening crack. Carolyn jumped back. The inside of the dome lit up brilliantly.

When the light faded, all seemed calm. She waited for ten minutes, keeping her distance, nervously moving some boxes out of the way without taking her eyes off the generator. Nothing more seemed to be happening.

She ventured closer, one suspicious step at a time.

A small disk of energy was whirling at the centre of the dome, glowing like a miniature thunderstorm. During the hours that followed, the disk coalesced into bright points of light whirling in gradually expanding orbits.

At four in the morning, after a multitude of trips down the basement stairs, Carolyn phoned Tom at the lab.

"Something weird is happening," she said as casually as she could manage. "Your chaos machine decided to start reassembling matter on its own."

"Really? What is it making?"

She swallowed before she spoke. "A galaxy. I think it's making a galaxy. Tom, I think I witnessed a miniature Big Bang."

There was a long silence.

"Is it dangerous?" she asked. "Should I get out of the house?"

"No. It's properly contained. Just keep an eye on it. I'll be home as soon as I can."

It was still dark when he came in the front door. They spent the next three hours contemplating the miracle unfolding before them. More and more solid paricles became visible, dancing among the whirling lights. Carolyn was so fascinated that she was late for work.

When she came home, she could distinguish planetary systems around the points of light. She was glad that Tom was starting his days off. What did she know about tending a baby galaxy?

"Now I know how God felt," she told Tom.

"Not really, dear -- we didn't create anything. We just put it together." "The atoms in there -- are they miniaturized too? Or are they still the same size they were when we put them in?" Tom cleared his throat. "I still don't have a handle on the reassembly process. If we had an electron microscope. . . ."

"Shouldn't we call somebody? Maybe they could set up some equipment here."

"Call who?" Tom's voice was hard with sarcasm.

"The lab, or the government -- there must be somebody! This could be the biggest scientific discovery of the century!"

He put his arm around her. "Honey, that would mean my job."

"Why should it? You didn't steal any of the materials, did you?" She looked into his face anxiously.

"No, dear. Everything I took was designated for the dumpster."

"So what's the problem?"

"I've had lots of time to observe what happens at the lab. Once in a while, some young firebrand gets really involved. No family to go home to, so they hang around, night after night, working. I've watched, and sometimes I've even helped. The minute one of them comes up with something and tells the brass, it's all over. They're terminated or sent off to the ends of the earth on some mind-numbing project or other. A few months later -- voila! One of the bigwigs unveils the very same thing, never mentioning any name but his own."

"That's so unfair!" Carolyn said. "Punishing people for going the extra mile!"

Tom started fiddling with one of the access doors of the generator.

"Well," Carolyn said, "I'm going upstairs for the videocam and the tripod. We are going to video this and show it after you're safely retired."

"And they'll say it's a very poor fraud."

The discouraged tone in his voice fired her with indignation. "Fraud, indeed! They believe in alien autopsies and dogs that can foretell the future, ind, and they won't believe this?"

"Don't confuse them with facts. Their minds are already made up."

"Oh, darling," she said, taking his hand. "I had no idea -- I didn't realize that you're not happy."

"Of course I'm happy! I have you, don't I?" Tom squeezed her hand. "It's more like -- frustrated. There's so much I want to try -- so much to learn -- so much more I want to do for you --"

She fell into his arms. By the time they had finished comforting each other, it was dark. They sent out for pizza and sat in the unlit basement munching and watching their galaxy twinkling like miniature mobile city lights. The videocam purred softly on its tripod with a pile of blank cartridges beside it.

"It's expanding," Carolyn said. "What happens when it reaches the dome?" "I don't know," Tom said, his brow furrowed. "Maybe it will start contracting again."

Right after breakfast, the first of the planetary systems hit the plexiglass, bounced back towards the centre, and dispersed with a bright flash that sent shockwaves through the entire galaxy.

"We've got to do something," Carolyn said. "There could be sentient beings in there."

"Sentient beings? That takes millions of years of evolution!"

"If space is miniaturized, probably time is, too," Carolyn said. "There could be intelligent beings more evolved than us in there. They might even realize the danger they're in and have no way of fixing it."

"My God! Do you really think so?"

"I don't know -- but if there are any living creatures in there, we are responsible for them. We have to set this galaxy free."

"Set it free? This isn't a Disney movie! No telling what would happen if we released it into our space! If the atoms are miniaturized, and they return to their original size -- I can't even imagine the mess!"

Two more suns collided with the plexiglass. "How about your interdimensional interfacer?" Carolyn asked. "Does it still work? Could you push the galaxy into another dimension? Didn't you say that all the alternate dimensions you found were empty?"

Tom's face lit up. "Yes -- yes!" He scurried over to the interfacer and began to wipe off the dust. "There are a few parts to replace, but it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. If I can open a gate and guide the galaxy inside, it will have infinite room to expand, just as our galaxy does. Who knows..." She could see Tom's mind leaping over mundane reality into the infinity of speculation.

"How are we going to make it go into the other dimension?" she asked.

"We'd have to enclose both machines and use remote control..." Tom mused. "I'll see what I can come up with."

"Do you want me to stay home from work?" Carolyn felt like a mother hovering over her sick baby.

"No. If I need help, I'll call Jeff. He's pretty handy. He's been on days off for a week now, and he'll be getting bored."

Work went badly for Carolyn that day: she lost one of the children for almost twenty minutes during an outing. She could not get her mind off the tiny galaxy in her basement. If Tom was thinking about asking his big brother for help, the situation was very serious indeed. Jeff had a degree in computer science, and Tom asked for Jeff's input only when it was a matter of life or death.

She broke her key in the front door lock, only to discover that the door was was open. Tom and Jeff were in the basement, absorbed in their tinkering. Both machines were now underneath a larger plastic dome.

"We took the dome off that land skimmer we built," Tom informed her. The land skimmer had been the last project Tom and Jeff had ever attempted together. It had never seen the outside of Tom's garage. "It took a while to get the remotes working properly, but I think we've got it. We should be ready to make the transfer in an hour or so."

Carolyn went upstairs to make sandwiches. No way was she going to be able to pry them away for a proper meal! The men inhaled the food without showing the slightest awareness that they were eating. Two pitchers of lemonade and a platter of nachos later, Tom used his remote to open the gate on the dimensional interfacer while Jeff entered codes on his numeric pad. The interior dome popped up. Carolyn held her breath.

The whirling disk grew longer and thinner, slid through the opening, and disappeared into the slot in the dimensional interface machine like dust sucked into a vacuum cleaner. All three of them cheered. Carolyn shut off the videocam.

"Well, there you are," Jeff said. "Nothing to it."

"What about the conservation of mass-energy?" Carolyn said.

"Conservation of mass-energy?" Tom asked absently, fiddling with his remote.

"We have just exported a substantial amount of mass-energy into another dimension," Carolyn said. "Part of our dimension is missing now. Something has to replace..."

The interdimensional gate spat out a cloud of thick, grey dust. The men yelped and stepped back. Carolyn turned the videocam back on.

"What the hell -- " Jeff exclaimed.

"Our replacement mass-energy, I presume," Tom said.

The cloud was organizing itself into a funnel, for all the world like an upside-down tornado.

"Whatever it is," Carolyn said, "it likes our garbage." The whirlwind had probed its way into the hopper. The level of garbage was going down much faster than the usual leisurely consumption of the anarchy generator.

Jeff punched a code on his remote. The dome of the anarchy generator snapped shut.

"We need a closer look," Tom said. "Jeff, help me get this thing off."

They removed the outer dome and peered at the miniature whirlwind sucking up everything within reach. Tom dumped the left-over nachos into the hopper.

"Tom!" Carolyn scolded. "You're going to want something to eat at bedtime."

"We have to keep it fed. I need it alive and kicking so I can run some tests."

"I'll come and help you tomorrow," Jeff volunteered. "I didn't have much planned anyway."

The next day, the whirlwind was substantially bigger and hungrier. Its tip had crept out of the top of the hopper and was snaking around the basement floor like a malevolent cat's tail, devouring sawdust and small bits of wood.

"I've given it everything," Carolyn moaned. "The garbage, the recycling stuff, the grass clippings, even the clothes I was going to take to the homeless shelter. But it just wants more and more. And it's growing all the time. What if it gets really, really big? We could be responsible for the destruction of the whole earth!"

"Like the tomato that ate New York," Jeff grinned.

"Boy -- that suction would make a great vacuum cleaner," Tom said, watching the insatiable tentacle absorb nails, bolts, and even a small can of paint.

"If we could control it," Carolyn snapped. Just like men to ignore the urgency of the situation!

The grey column made a grab for the hose of their brand new shopvac. Screeching with indignation, Carolyn wrestled the vacuum away from the voracious entity. The whirlwind thinned as she pulled the hose away. She gave a final jerk and the invasive tentacle broke in half.

The severed piece fell onto the floor in a small rain of dust. The rest snapped back into the hopper. Carolyn grabbed a thick piece of plywood, slammed it on top of the hopper, and sat on it.

The imprisoned whirlwind began spinning furiously. Tom came closer and peered at it. Carolyn prayed that the monster was not strong enough to eat its way through the dome or the board she was sitting on.

"Well," Tom said at last, "it looks like it's not strong enough to counteract Carolyn's weight. So as long as she doesn't have to go to the bathroom or anything . . ."

"Let's put the big dome back on," Jeff said. "If we don't feed it, it'll settle down. Who knows? It might even jump back where it came from."

"You think so?" Tom asked dubiously.

"Nothing is absolutely certain. But it's worth a try."

The men set the cover on its edge, ready to push into place. Tom started going through the boxes that were piled against the wall, searching for something expendable to sacrifice to the whirlwind.

"This is no time to be mooning over your bowling trophy!" Carolyn prodded, shifting uneasily on her perch. "Just pick something! Anything!"

Tom piled an armful of old hockey equipment into her arms.

"Okay, dear. When I tell you, jump off and dump the stuff in the hopper. Then get out of the way. Hopefully, it'll keep busy long enough for us to get it contained."

Carolyn's heart was thumping uncomfortably as she eased herself off the plywood. The funnel sent the board flying. She slammed down her load of skates and pads and suspenders and pushed.

"Now!" she commanded, jumping back.

Tom and Jeff dropped the cover.

"The board!" Carolyn yelled. The plywood was pinned under the edge of the cover, jamming it open.

This time, Tom and Jeff responded instantly. Grunting, they lifted the cover while Carolyn yanked the plywood out. The grey funnel had already devoured their offerings and was trying to escape when they let the cover drop, cutting off another piece.

"We did it!" Carolyn gasped.

She leaned weakly against Tom's chest as they watched the antics of the trapped whirlwind. It seemed alive and intelligent, probing every nook and cranny. It battered the interdimensional gate, trying to insinuate itself through the sealed slit. Little by little, it lost its energy, and dwindled into a small heap of dust.

"Well, I guess that's it," Jeff said.

"Looks like," Tom agreed. "Better shut down and take the batteries out of the remotes."

Jeff looked his brother in the eye.

"You're way ahead of the mainstream," he said. "It's time you became a real scientist."

Tom's face flushed. "You know I can't -- no grade ten science."

"You didn't pass grade ten science?" Carolyn asked, her jaw slack. How could anyone as brilliant as Tom fail science?

"Sorry, honey," Tom muttered. "I wanted to tell you, but I just couldn't. You have a university degree and all."

"Einstein failed grade nine math," Carolyn declared. "Some people are just too bright for high school."

Tom smiled sheepishly.

"He got thrown out after the time/energy converter blew up on the teacher's desk," Jeff volunteered.

"Yeah," Tom said. "Friedenmeyer never gave me a chance to explain. Just confiscated all my stuff and never let me come back."

"What a creep," Jeff said. "We should have done something about it."

Tom put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "No way. Silence is golden. If Mom and Dad had found out, I would have been toast."

Carolyn's mind was elsewhere. "Time/energy conversion . . . time/energy conversion . . ." she repeated. "Isn't that what Friedenmeyer got the Nobel Prize for?"

"It couldn't be the same guy," Tom said. "The Friedenmeyer in high school was too dumb to think of anything like that. Trust me."

"Is this Dr. Friedenmeyer any relation to Friedenmeyer the cosmetics mogul?" Jeff asked.

"I think they're brothers," Carolyn said.

"Say," Jeff said, "didn't you make that wrinkle-smoothing compound for the science fair just before you got kicked out?"

"As a matter of fact -- yes, you're right," Tom said. "I never got that project back, either."

The three of them stared at each other, busy with their private thoughts.

"Oh, what the hell," Jeff said finally, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm taking you two for lunch. With wine. It's not every day a person gets to save an entire dimension."

"And the basement has never been this clean," Carolyn added, grinning. Anything that brought Tom and Jeff closer was just fine with her.

They trooped upstairs. Before they got into Jeff's car, Carolyn charged back into the house to shut off the basement light. If she had looked a little more closely, she might have noticed two tiny upside-down whirlwinds on the stairs, sucking industriously.