Then two more paint bombs arrived. These were better-aimed. They hit the Collaboratory dead on—it was a large target—and splattered the glass sky with black muck. The dome’s interior light became dim and scary, the temperature dropped, the plants and animals suffered, and the people were grim and enraged. Confronted with this direct insult, their will to resist stiffened drastically. It was personal now—they could see the evil slur against them, hovering above their heads.