 What does the colonel seem to think about the bomb situation at the mental institution?
Two muscular and bored attendants in spotless whites, lounged beside the locked door and chatted idly about the Dodgers' prospects for the pennant. Through the barred windows of the workshop, rolling green hills were seen, their tree-studded flanks making a pleasant setting for the mental institution. The crafts building was a good mile away from the main buildings of the hospital and the hills blocked the view of the austere complex of buildings that housed the main wards. She stopped behind a frowning, intense patient, rapidly shaping blobs of clay into odd-sized strips and forms. The flying fingers continued to whip out the bits of shaped clay as the patient ignored the question. "Atom bomb." I thought you said an 'atom bomb.'" A tall, blond patient with a flowing mustache, put one more dab of paint on his canvas and stood back to survey the meaningless smears. As she drove out of the hospital grounds, Thaddeus Funston stood at the barred window of his locked ward and stared vacantly over the hills towards the craft shop. He stood there unmoving until a ward attendant came and took his arm an hour later to lead him off to the patients' mess hall. The sun set, darkness fell over the stilled hospital grounds and the ward lights winked out at nine o'clock, leaving just a single light burning in each ward office. At 3:01 a.m., Thaddeus Funston stirred in his sleep and awakened.
 He is worried about the perception if others hear about what's happening
 He wants to let Thaddeus create more things to study them  He is worried about the perception if others hear about what's happening  He wants to keep the story away from the newspapers so that others cannot learn Thaddeus' secrets  It figures that this is where this is happening, so he's frustrated for yet another bomb case