Teddy-Ricky had one very important job. For 24-hours at a time, three days a month, he sat deep below society, in a government bunker, watching an empty radar screen for incoming nuclear weapons. His desk had three things: His radar screen, a red folder of instructions for if he ever saw a blip, and a twin-tube tungsten-filament desk lamp. Most days were uneventful. But the dimmer knob sure was fun to play with.