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    _Television quiz programs with an aspect of having just staged a
    raid on Fort Knox are very much in the news these days. Certainly
    the prizes to be won are astronomical and the contestants scarcely
    less so. Step right up, little lady and tell us why your eyes look
    so strange! What's that? You want us to read this astounding science
    fantasy documentary by J. Anthony Ferlaine first? Well--perhaps we
    should play it safe while the flying saucer folk are watching us!_


 one
 out
  of
 ten

 _by ... J. Anthony Ferlaine_


 There may be a town called Mars in Montana. But
 little Mrs. Freda Dunny didn't come from there!


I watched Don Phillips, the commercial announcer, out of the corner of
my eye. The camera in front of me swung around and lined up on my set.

"... And now, on with the show," Phillips was saying. "And here, ready
to test your wits, is your quizzing quiz master, Smiling Jim Parsons."

I smiled into the camera and waited while the audience applauded. The
camera tally light went on and the stage manager brought his arm down
and pointed at me.

"Good afternoon," I said into the camera, "here we go again with another
half hour of fun and prizes on television's newest, most exciting, game,
'Parlor Quiz.' In a moment I'll introduce you to our first contestant.
But first here is a special message to you mothers ..."

The baby powder commercial appeared on the monitor and I walked over to
the next set. They had the first contestant lined up for me. I smiled
and took her card from the floor man. She was a middle-aged woman with a
faded print dress and old-style shoes. I never saw the contestants
until we were on the air. They were screened before the show by the
staff. They usually tried to pick contestants who would make good show
material--an odd name or occupation--or somebody with twenty kids.
Something of that nature.

I looked at the card for the tip off. "Mrs. Freda Dunny," the card said.
"Ask her where she comes from."

I smiled at the contestant again and took her by the hand. The tally
light went on again and I grinned into the camera.

"Well, now, we're all set to go ... and our first contestant today is
this charming little lady right here beside me. Mrs. Freda Dunny." I
looked at the card. "How are you, Mrs. Dunny?"

"Fine! Just fine."

"All set to answer a lot of questions and win a lot of prizes?"

"Oh, I'll win all right," said Mrs. Dunny, smiling around at the
audience.

The audience tittered a bit at the remark. I looked at the card again.

"Where are you from, Mrs. Dunny?"

"Mars!" said Mrs. Dunny.

"Mars!" I laughed, anticipating the answer. "Mars, Montana? Mars, Peru?"

"No, _Mars_! Up there," she said, pointing up in the air. "The planet
Mars. The fourth planet out from the sun."

My assistant looked unhappy.

I smiled again, wondering what the gag was. I decided to play along.

"Well, well," I said, "all the way from Mars, eh? And how long have you
been on Earth, Mrs. Dunny?"

"Oh, about thirty or forty years. I've been here nearly all my life.
Came here when I was a wee bit of a girl."

"Well," I said, "you're practically an Earthwoman by now, aren't you?"
The audience laughed. "Do you plan on going back someday or have you
made up your mind to stay here on Earth for the rest of your days?"

"Oh, I'm just here for the invasion," said Mrs. Dunny. "When that's over
I'll probably go back home again."

"The invasion?"

"Yes, the invasion of Earth. As soon as enough of us are here we'll get
started."

"You mean there are others here, too?"

"Oh, yes, there are several million of us here in the United States
already--and more are on the way."

"There are only about a hundred and seventy million people in the United
States, Mrs. Dunny," I said. "If there are several million Martians
among us, one out of every hundred would have to be a Martian."

"One out of every ten!" said Mrs. Dunny. "That's what the boss said just
the other day. 'We're getting pretty close to the number we need to
take over Earth.'"

"What do you need?" I asked. "One to one? One Martian for every
Earthman?"

"Oh, no," said Mrs. Dunny, "one Martian is worth ten Earthmen. The only
reason we're waiting is we don't want any trouble."

"You don't look any different from us Earth people, Mrs. Dunny. How does
one tell the difference between a Martian and an Earthman when one sees
one?"

"Oh, we don't _look_ any different," said Mrs. Dunny. "Some of the kids
don't even know they're Martians. Most mothers don't tell their children
until they're grown-up. And there are other children who are never told
because they just don't develop their full powers."

"What powers?"

"Oh, telepathy, thought control--that sort of thing."

"You mean that Martians can read people's thoughts?"

"Sure! It's no trouble at all. It's very easy really, once you get the
hang of it."

"Can you read my mind?" I asked, smiling.

"Sure!" said Mrs. Dunny, smiling up at me. "That's why I said that I'd
know the answers. I'll be able to read the answers from your mind when
you look at that sheet of paper."

"Now, that's hardly sporting, is it, Mrs. Dunny?" I said, turning to the
camera. The audience laughed. "Everybody else has to do it the hard way
and here you are reading it from my mind."

"All's fair in love and war," said Mrs. Dunny.

"Tell me, Mrs. Dunny. Why are you telling me about all this? Isn't it
supposed to be a secret?"

"I have my reasons," said Mrs. Dunny. "Nobody believes me anyhow."

"Oh, I believe you, Mrs. Dunny," I said gravely. "And now, let's see how
you do on the questions. Are you ready?"

She nodded.

"Name the one and only mammal that has the ability to fly," I asked,
reading from the script.

"A bat," she said.

"Right! Did you read that from my mind?"

"Oh, yes, you're coming over very clear!" said Mrs. Dunny.

"Try this one," I said. "A princess is any daughter of a sovereign. What
is a princess royal?"

"The eldest daughter of a sovereign," she said.

"Correct! How about this one? Is a Kodiak a kind of simple box camera; a
type of double-bowed boat; or a type of Alaskan bear?"

"A bear," said Mrs. Dunny.

"Very good," I said. "That was a hard one." I asked her seven more
questions and she got them all right. None of the other contestants even
came close to her score, so I wound up giving her the gas range and a
lot of other smaller prizes.

After we were off the air I followed the audience out into the hall.
Mrs. Dunny was walking towards the lobby with an old paper shopping bag
under her arm. An attendant was following her with an armful of prizes.

I caught up with her before she reached the door.

"Mrs. Dunny," I said, and she turned around. "I want to talk to you."

"When do I get the gas stove?" she said.

"Your local dealer will send it to you in a few days. Did you give them
your address?"

"Yes, I gave it to them. My Philadelphia address, that is. I don't even
remember my address at home any more."

"Come, now, Mrs. Dunny. You don't have to keep up that Mars business now
that we're off the air."

"It's the truth and I didn't come here just by accident," said Mrs.
Dunny, looking over her shoulder toward the attendant who was still
holding the prizes. "I came here to see you."

"Me?"

Mrs. Dunny set the paper bag down on the floor and dug down into her
pocketbook. She took out a dog-eared piece of white paper and bent it up
in her hand.

"Yes," she said finally. "I came to see you. And you didn't follow me
out here because you wanted to. I commanded you to come."

"Commanded me to come!" I spluttered. "What for?"

"To prove something to you. Do you see this piece of paper?" She held
out the paper in her hand with the blank side toward me. "My address is
on this paper. I am reading the address. Concentrate on what I'm
reading."

I looked at her.

I concentrated.

Suddenly, I knew.

"Two fifty-one South Eighth Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania," I said
aloud.

"You see, it's very easy once you get the hang of it," she said.

I nodded and smiled down at her. Now I understood. I picked up her bag
and put my hand on her shoulder.

"Let's go," I said. "We have a lot to talk about."




Transcriber's Note:

    This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ November 1956.
    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
    typographical errors have been corrected without note.