Jill dashes toward her boy as he opens the door and reveals a blinding, beatific sun-like light approaching. Jillian shuts the door and snatches him inside. Trapped and helpless inside the house that is enveloped by the light, a deafening rumbling noise grows in strength.

Barry is unperturbed, encouraging the unknown force.

Barry: You can come and play now.

Jill shuts the damper on the fireplace just before the light penetrates.

Knowing that she is powerless, Jill can only hug her boy - and wait.

Inexplicably, the phonograph player starts playing a 'Johnny Mathis' record, Chances Are. A rug covering a ventilation grating on the floor blows over. The metal screws holding the vent grating to the wooden floor slowly turn open and the vent cover blows off. Smoke penetrates through the opening until Jill throws the rug over it.

The vacuum cleaner and other electrical appliances (stove, refrigerator, washing machine) are activated by the alien power and explosively vibrate.

When she dials for help on the phone, she hears the five-note sequence.

Barry crawls through the miniature pet door toward the outside.

She exerts all her effort to grab his legs and pull him back, but his tiny frame is ripped from her arms by the overwhelming force.

Jill rushes outside, yelling for Barry, but the lights of the glowing spaceship have already begun to recede among the clouds - he has been invisibly kidnapped by the extra-terrestrials and whisked away in a UFO.

Outside an Air Force press conference assembled in Muncie to allay fears of the public following numerous sightings, Jillian is distraught over the abduction of her son. She refuses to answer questions for six-o'clock news-TV reporters and cameramen. She sees Roy in the crowd and tells him they took her son.

Once the conference is started, uniformed Major Benchley (George DiCenzo) holds up a large colored photograph of a flying saucer to demonstrate how people have been deceived.

Benchley: Ladies and gentlemen. This is a flying saucer. It's made of pewter, made in Japan, and thrown across the lawn by one of my children. I just wanted to point that out to you to show that we're not all polished brass about these things. Also to make a point that last year, Americans shot more than seven billion photographs at a record of 6.6 billion dollars for film, equipment and processing. Now with all those shutters clicking, where is the indisputable, photographic evidence?

Newsman: I've been in the news business for a long time and our cameras have never been able to take a picture of a plane crash as it actually happened, or an automobile accident and get it on the six o'clock news.

Spokesman: Now, there are all kinds of ideas that would be fun to believe in. Mental telepathy, time travel, immortality, even Santa Claus. Now I know it's no fun to go home and say: 'Guess what happened! I was in a shopping center. There was this tremendously bright light and I rushed outside - and it was an airplane.'

Roy: Excuse me, sir. I didn't want to see this.

Spokesman: I sure wish I had. You know, for fifteen years, I've been looking for these damn silly lights in the night sky. I've never found any. I'd like to, because I believe in life elsewhere.

Audience member: Why don't you guys just admit that the Air Force is conducting secret tests in the foothills area?

Spokesman: It would be easy to say yes to that. But I'm not going to mislead you. This is not the case. To tell you the truth, I don't know what you saw.

Roy: You can't fool us by agreeing with us.

Another witness: I saw Bigfoot once. 1951 back in Sequoia National Park. Had a foot on him thirty-seven inches heel to toe. It made a sound I would not want to hear twice in my life.

Roy knows that he saw the lights of UFOs and can't be persuaded otherwise by official bylines. He looks down at the latest newspaper heading: Cosmic Kidnaping - Indiana Woman Blames Disappearance of Three Year-Old Son on Clouds - Guiler Says She will Search Out of State if Indiana Police Discontinue Their Efforts. With a pencil, he unconsciously sketches the familiar mound-shape onto the news article - his pencil point breaks to accentuate the improbability of the spokesman's final platitudes. . .

Spokesman: UFO's do not represent a direct physical threat to our national security. We do not support them, and we encourage you not to.

In a distant, unidentified location, an official mission to Wyoming is being executed and planned. Faceless men wearing identical sunglasses and red uniforms board a chartered Greyhound bus on a highly-classified trip to the geographic focal point (of the longitudinal and latitudinal line crossings) of the radio transmissions in a place near Devils Tower, a national monument:

Government Official: Let's get in touch with those Forest Service people. We're gonna end up in a wilderness area with vehicular traffic. And that's strictly sacred cow stuff for those folks in Wyoming. If this mission fully develops, I get white knuckles just thinkin' about what might be ahead for those folks.

Lacombe and Laughlin will also be flown to the location to prepare for the visitation. To convince the 'folks' in Wyoming - a population of 28,000 people - that they must evacuate the quarantined top-secret area, planners discuss the fanciful possibilities: flashfloods, forest fires, viruses (dyptheria, unknown strains, bad water, the plague), but they suspect no one is going to believe in a plague in this day and age. Major Walsh proposes an even scarier military alternative.

Walsh: What I need is something so scary it'll clear three hundred square miles of every living Christian soul!

Vehicles in the caravan are outfitted with commercial-products' camouflage: Piggly Wiggly, Coca Cola, and Baskin-Robbins.

At the Neary's home during dinnertime, Roy heaps his plate with a large spoonful of mashed potatoes - the second manifestation of his internal vision.

As his family watches him intently piling up spoonful after spoonful of potatoes and toying with the sculpted shape, they believe he has begun to lose all sense of reason and sanity.

His older son looks on with pain and sadness covering his face, and Roy shame-facedly acknowledges their strained, alienated looks

Roy: Well, I guess you've noticed something a little strange with Dad. It's okay. I'm still Dad. I can't describe it - what I'm feeling.