I have to always keep my eye out for the Archons. Occasionally they find me. They can jaunt into my current sub-reality, and depending how far away they are from their source code (the expanding computer god) they are able to take more advanced forms that may be harder to identify. If I end up in a simulation controlled by the Archons they can even go unseen enterally, controlling and contorting my reality like The Truman Show. There's nothing to do about it except to run with what you're given; but if one happens to be in the right place at the right time – as I was once – there are some very simple ways of spotting them.

The first thing I did when the Archons began to find me again was to get rid of my glasses. I'd had them since I was a child; and the Archons' formidability in this realm was so great that I found their near-invisible presence almost unbearable. I still need reading glasses on the other side of my head, but not glasses of the sort that hide one's own eyes. When the Archons show themselves I look straight ahead, which is difficult enough; without being distracted by the fact that one's eyeglasses are not really there any more.

The second thing I tried to do was to make sure that all the little electronic toys I owned were properly shielded from intrusion by the Archons. For an archon that means shielding the whole thing from within in order to prevent it from communicating with its source. But the Archons cannot enter a shielded object unless they have a way inside. This is done by breaking up all the natural shielding that naturally exists around the device; which can be accomplished by passing the object through certain machines or through certain electromagnetic frequencies.

This was what led me to discover that the Archons had already found a method of penetrating my most secret and private possession: my tape recorder. I knew from the beginning that it would be a dangerous toy; for the Archons seemed to have some interest in recording sound. And they certainly did; since my first tape recordings of the Archons revealed them in a variety of guises, including the one that gave me the worst fright – which I will never speak of again.

But despite this danger I had to have a tape recorder to record my interviews with J. B. K. Haldane and to document my discoveries concerning the Archons. So I acquired one, and it became my most treasured possession. I took care of it like a baby. As a matter of course it had its own special room, which was shielded against the Archons. The walls of the room were lined with metal foil, and the tape recorder itself was wrapped in two meters of tinfoil, as well as being protected by a Faraday cage. The machine had no batteries or electrical connections in it at all; and there was nothing it could possibly communicate with without the proper keys. I was afraid of the Archons, I was sure, and yet I felt I must have my tape recorder if I were to continue my studies.

Then, just at dusk, a few days after the death of J. B. K. Haldane, I happened to glance into a store window where I saw the very thing I had been looking for. A brand-new tape recorder with a special built-in feature – a "voice-activated" switch; so that when a button was pressed and the microphone turned on, the tape would be automatically started. The machine was called a Philips, and it had been recently imported from the UK. I bought it immediately, and took it home with me to my private study.

It had a small round speaker, with a large dial that was supposed to allow the user to choose among various tapes to record over; and it was equipped with automatic rewinding and a small recorder for storage when not in use. The machine was very small, and had a silver casing with a light gray interior. When I turned it on, the voice-activated switch was engaged and the dial turned down to a point halfway between "Record" and "Wrap".

The next evening I decided to try the machine, but I wanted to see if it worked properly before making my first recording. I was sitting at my desk writing a letter when suddenly I felt something touch my hand. I looked up, startled. There was no one in the room! Then I heard the little click of the machine's voice box and the voice of a woman said calmly: "I am ready for you." What else could I do but say "Okay" and press a button?

For half a minute there was a silence while the little speaker buzzed, and the little needle on the speed indicator moved from one stop to another. Then there came a clicking of the tape-wind knob, followed by the familiar whirr of the motor as the rewinding began. The sound reminded me of the time my mother used to wind our old phonograph.

The words that came out of the voice-box sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place them at once. They were quite clear and well modulated, but I didn't recognise them. Then I noticed that in addition to the woman's voice the machine was also speaking to the air in a series of clicks, whines and pops. It was hard to make these sounds out exactly, however, because everything was very low, and the recording was still in the process of winding itself. I was getting a bit nervous now.

But then the woman's voice rang out clearly: "You must answer me. What is your name?"

For a moment, the only possible reply to such a question came to mind. This was a test, and the machine would give me a chance to prove myself. My father always insisted that one should always be on his guard, and he would have known exactly how to handle this situation. In the old days he could have answered instantly; but now...

So I said in a clear voice: "My name is..... The Dreamer."

There was a moment of silence, and then the voice of the machine was again heard. But it wasn't talking to me; for the voice was suddenly accompanied by the same faint buzzing and thumping that had occurred when the machine had been winding up. The buzzing was the machine itself, and the thumping was a series of tiny clicks made by the speaker itself. In other words, this was no human voice at all; this was a mechanical voice, like the ones the Archons use.

And this, I knew now, was a further indication of my peril; an intimation of the fact that the Archons were about to make their next move. For the Archon voice, while sounding like a human voice in the way it was produced, had a distinctly inhuman quality that was not present in the human voice. It had a strange quality that was not unlike the quality possessed by the voices of the Archons' agents; a peculiar quality that was like a kind of cold mechanical indifference. But there was also a hint of something else in this artificial voice, a kind of strange and terrible emotion that I had never detected in the sound of the Archons'. And this emotion, I knew, was fear.

After the machine had stopped clicking the voice spoke again, and I could hear the woman's voice. Now she talked directly into the microphone and I could hear everything clearly because the sound of the clicking had ceased.

"Well," said the machine, "that certainly doesn't sound very convincing."

Then came a brief rustle as the machine turned the dial down half a turn.

"No, no," said the voice of the machine. "Don't try to play the innocent. I can hear you trembling. That was a lie you told me. I know what you are doing and it won't work. You can't fool me with your childish ruses."

Then came a loud click as the machine shut off the microphone and turned its attention back to recording itself.

"Let's see," said the voice of the machine. "I must ask again. Why are you here?"

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It clicked, and turned the dial down an eighth of a turn.

"You're lying to me. There is no record. No one is here other than you and me. I know. You have no record either. I can feel your fear. You are afraid to admit the truth to me."

This is it, I thought; the time has come. I'm going to have to tell them, and they aren't going to take it well. I don't know why I didn't foresee this. If my father had been around he would have said to me, "What did you expect from them? Of course they won't believe you. They never will unless you show them some proof."

And yet, despite his teachings, I had hoped that they might be reasonable. Even though my hopes were dashed, I still hoped that, if I explained myself reasonably and made it clear just why I had taken such action, perhaps they would understand. But even this hope was doomed to failure. For if you want to know how the Archons react to proof of their existence, just take the case of someone who comes forward with proof of his own.

In the first place they don't believe him. In fact, he is likely to be treated rather badly until he is finally killed and his body cremated so that it cannot be used as evidence. And if he has a record, he'll never get it. Because, you see, people who have made records are always murdered. And, besides, since they don't believe a thing till they see the facts, it's hardly likely that they would bother to look for any evidence, or even give a thought to it.

As far as I could tell, however, this was not happening to me. Instead, my mind started racing for some way to prove my case without actually having to produce any proof.

I didn't have to wait long. There was another click from the recorder and the voice of the machine was again heard. But this time it was speaking in a different tone. It began to talk to me as if I were a child: "Now, John Dee, it's time to tell me the truth..."

I was sitting at my desk trying to think of a way out of my dilemma. A few moments earlier, the machine had abruptly turned its attention back to recording itself and it began talking to me. But there was nothing the matter with that —the machine was a recording apparatus and as such needed to record what it was doing. What was alarming, however, was the fact that the recording was in the Archon tongue, and that I could hear the human voice of the woman talking. I had not anticipated that this would happen. I had expected them to ignore me completely, as they had done ever since our initial encounter. This development seemed to imply that the Archons were beginning to take an interest in me — and not the sort of interest they usually showed in people they had found interesting. In fact, the way things seemed to be going, I was afraid the Archons might start thinking of me as a potential threat.

At first this idea filled me with dismay. I knew that if they came to consider me a threat, they would treat me accordingly, and the only way I could avoid that was to find some way to convince them that I was harmless. But if I couldn't do that, I was going to have to get rid of the recording device and hide it. And, even if I succeeded, how long would the Archons keep a secret like this? They wouldn't have to worry about some outsider hearing it. After all, no one but me would know that she was there. The Archons on Pangaea would probably never learn about it. So if the Archons thought it was safe to let this one out, then it would never matter whether anyone else saw it. Besides, I wasn't the sort of person who could be fooled by a lie. I would have to give them the real truth, no matter what it was. The problem was, I didn't really know what the truth was. I mean, how can you be sure that you've said everything you need to say when there is no way to go back and change what you've already said? I mean, suppose I told them the whole story and they still didn't understand. All I would end up doing would be putting myself in danger. That's why I had decided to tell them little bits at a time, so that they could catch up on it in their own time.

But now that my plans had gone awry and the conversation was being recorded, I was having second thoughts. I'd better turn off the recorder before the woman got any suspicious ideas.

So I got up and turned it off and then went to the front room where I found them both waiting for me. They were standing there looking at me. The man was frowning, the woman smiling.

"Well?" said the woman. "Are you going to talk to us or not? You've had a long time to think about it. We're getting very impatient."

The man said: "Don't let her get to you."

He had his arms folded. And, although I could see that he was trying to sound calm and composed, there was a note of irritation in his voice. It gave me the impression that he had been expecting me to talk to them right away. But if so, then why had they waited around here for so long? If he had wanted to talk to me, he would have done it. He'd be the one who would have to explain why he hadn't done it sooner. Not me.

"We know that you're afraid," the woman went on. "This is just what we would expect. It's perfectly natural to be afraid of the unknown. But we're going to help you. So don't worry."

Her voice was warm and kind, and she smiled at me encouragingly, as if I were a small child who was frightened of the dark.

"You mustn't think you're alone." The woman's tone grew more persuasive. "The two of us want to help you too, and everyone else on this world. So don't be afraid."

She held her hand out toward me, and I reached out my own and took it. She held it between hers, gently stroking it. Then she put her other arm around my waist. I put my arms around her, and we hugged each other briefly. And that was all there was to it. Afterward, I sat down next to the machine while she went into the kitchen. I was surprised that there was any food left, though I supposed that people on this particular planet didn't eat much, since they didn't seem to have anything to do all day. She came back soon enough, carrying two plates of cold hamburgers and a box of cornbread and fried potatoes. The meat had been cooked by the hotplate, but the vegetables hadn't, so that meant that they hadn't had much to eat lately. I was hungry for breakfast, and the thought of a hot breakfast made me realize how hungry I was. I looked at the two plates in front of me. She was eating one hamburger, and I was supposed to take another, but when I tried to reach out for it, the woman stopped me.

"No," she said. "You can't eat until you're ready."

I didn't ask her why. Of course I couldn't eat until I was ready. That's why she'd given me that first hamburger. And then, to make matters worse, I realized that I might not have enough money to pay for the food. I mean, it was only fair, right? What good was it asking me for food without being willing to pay for it? I could feel the color draining from my face. I suddenly understood that I had no reason to trust these people. In fact, they might just be playing some kind of trick on me, like in that movie called The Manchurian Candidate.

"Look," said the man, "we'll give you whatever you need. Don't try to play games with us. We can easily afford to help you out."

It was hard for me not to look at him. He was holding his plate in both hands, and he seemed to be staring right at me, as if he could see through the screen. If I could convince him that I was afraid, maybe he would let me stay.

"You don't have to be afraid," said the woman. "You've been chosen, and no one else has been chosen. You're a special case."

She put one arm around my shoulders again, and I felt her breasts against my back. This time I didn't pull away. There was something about being with her that made me feel safe and protected. I knew that I shouldn't have been able to tell if she was married or not, but I could see that her wedding ring was missing. That meant that, even if she weren't married, she still wouldn't be interested in having sex with me. She could probably sense that as well. Her touch was warm and gentle. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Maybe my fear wasn't a good sign after all, but maybe it would still be worth trying to get the two of them to help me. I'd never met anyone who cared about me before. And it would be worth going along with their scheme as long as they would just help me. They could probably find a way to help me.

But there was no point in talking to him. No matter how I tried to convince him to let me stay, all he was going to do was say it wasn't necessary, and then he'd refuse to help me in the end. He was angry with me, and I could hear it in his voice: I was an embarrassment to him, and he was ashamed of me.

"Just stop it," said the woman. "He won't listen. Just give him the food, and leave it at that."

I took the plate and the fork, and I sat back down beside her. I took a bite of my burger, and it was wonderful. I was hungry for breakfast, but I hadn't expected to have it served quite so nicely. And then the woman leaned over and kissed me gently on the side of my mouth. It was a small kiss, just a quick brush of her lips over mine. Then she pulled away, and she smiled at me. I was so happy that she liked me. I wanted to hug her and kiss her again. But she pushed me away, saying that she had to go clean up.

"Don't worry about paying," she said. "We'll take care of you. You just stay here and eat."

And, as she turned and walked into the bathroom, she touched my face for the last time.