The story opens in a crowded Pentagon office where Sergeant Major Andrew McCloud struggles to maintain composure amid jangling telephones and panicked brass hats. The initial paragraphs establish a tone of bureaucratic absurdity: a two-star general wails about a noncom sitting on a powder keg, while McCloud’s irritation is palpable in his clenched fists and the detail that his freckles and unruly hair give him a boyish look. The prose moves quickly, with short, punchy sentences that mirror the chaos.

From Panic to Procedure

The narrative voice shifts markedly once the generals leave. McCloud’s clipped commands—“Bettijean, will you bring me all the latest”—give way to a more deliberate, procedural tone as he interviews a sick secretary named Janis. The dialogue becomes a series of hesitant exchanges: Janis stammers, “I … I wrote a letter to my mother,” and McCloud’s disappointment is audible in the line “Andy swallowed against his groan of disappointment.” The pace slows, allowing the reader to follow the incremental gathering of clues. Keller uses repetition of “And” at the start of sentences to mimic the accumulation of data, building toward the moment when McCloud yells, “Hey, wait!”

The Stamp as Culprit

The climax hinges on a physical object: a four-cent stamp. McCloud’s sudden realization—that writers, artists, and college students lick stamps while government workers use franking machines—is delivered in a burst of action. He yanks open drawers, dumps a purse, and hands a stamp to a lab technician. The prose accelerates again, with short declarative sentences: “The lab technician arrived a minute later. He shook his head as he handed his hastily scribbled report to Andy.” Bettijean’s explanation, “Sure. College kids and engaged girls and new parents … they’d all lick lots of stamps,” ties the mystery together in a single, satisfying paragraph. The voice here is triumphant but weary, matching McCloud’s relieved smile.

Voice and the Bureaucratic Lens

Throughout the story, Keller maintains a consistent third-person perspective anchored in McCloud’s experience. The narrative voice is colloquial and slightly sardonic, with phrases like “Doggone the freckles” and “He said it like a dirty word.” This voice colors the portrayal of military hierarchy: the brass are flustered and ineffectual, while the noncom is competent and resourceful. The setting—a cramped office with a switchboard and web of lines—reinforces the theme of communication breakdown. The story’s brevity (7,645 words) means the pace never flags; each scene advances the investigation without digression.

Readers should pay attention to how Keller uses physical details—a stamp, a cigarette, a desk drawer—to anchor the speculative premise in concrete reality. The story’s humor arises from the contrast between the epidemic’s absurd cause and the deadpan bureaucratic response. Note also how the narrative voice remains steady even as the pace fluctuates, a technique that keeps the investigation grounded despite the escalating stakes.