The Professor went for a walk along the beach. The rescue talk was getting to him. It was the only subject of conversation for the past week. He knew that every day after the balloon launch that they were still on they island greater increased the likelihood that the latest attempt was a failure. He knew they knew that too, but he saw no need to take them out of their state of denial. He himself had trouble thinking of the fate of Boris, which was at his hands.
The Professor's worse fears came to fruition when he saw what washed up on the shore. It was a huge sheet of silver polymer riddled with what looked like bullet holes. The Professor walked backed to camp, thinking of how he would deliver the news.
The rescue party was entering day 8 when the Professor entered camp. The slightly tipsy castaways sang "for he's a jolly good fellow" for the Professor. It wasn't the first time.
The Professor simply said, "I have something to say." It was more his tone than the words that brought down the revelry.
"Speak up, man," encouraged Mr. Howell.
"There's something at the beach you need to see," announced the Professor.
The castaways braced themselves. They knew from his tone that it couldn't be good. Never the less, they were not prepared for what they saw.
"Its my fault," said the Professor, "I didn't take into account the effects of putting a Soviet balloon up in U.S. territory."
"You should have," said Gilligan, child like innocence gone, "Boris was the one who paid for your mistake."
The Skipper rebuked, "Gilligan, that was uncalled for. We all are responsible, we all went along with the idea."
The Professor replied, "No, Gilligan's right. Even I am susceptible to rescue fever. I'm sorry to you all, and I'm definitely sorry to Boris."
