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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/28118-h.zip b/28118-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cacef4a --- /dev/null +++ b/28118-h.zip diff --git a/28118-h/28118-h.htm b/28118-h/28118-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e61e433 --- /dev/null +++ b/28118-h/28118-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3776 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Great Gray Plague, by RAYMOND F. JONES. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + --> + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Great Gray Plague, by Raymond F. Jones + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Great Gray Plague + +Author: Raymond F. Jones + +Release Date: February 18, 2009 [EBook #28118] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT GRAY PLAGUE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Dave Lovelace, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + + +<h1>THE GREAT GRAY PLAGUE</h1> + +<h2>BY RAYMOND F. JONES</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>There is no enemy so hard to fight as a dull gray fog. It's not +solid enough to beat, too indefinite to kill, and too omnipresent +to escape.</p></div> + +<p>[Transcribers Note: This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact and +Science Fiction February 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any +evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<p>Dr. William Baker was fifty and didn't mind it a bit. Fifty was a +tremendously satisfying age. With that exact number of years behind him +a man had stature that could be had in no other way. Younger men, who +achieve vast things at, say, thirty-five, are always spoken of with +their age as a factor. And no matter what the intent of the connection, +when a man's accomplishments are linked to the number of years since he +was born there is always a sense of apologia about it.</p> + +<p>But when a man is fifty his age is no longer mentioned. His name stands +alone on whatever foundation his achievements have provided. He has +stature without apology, if the years have been profitably spent.</p> + +<p>William Baker considered his years had been very profitably spent. He +had achieved the Ph. D. and the D. Sc. degrees in the widely separated +fields of electronics and chemistry. He had been responsible for some of +the most important radar developments of the World War II period. And +now he held a post that was the crowning achievement of those years of +study and effort.</p> + +<p>On this day of his fiftieth birthday he walked briskly along the +corridor of the Bureau building. He paused only when he came to the +glass door which was lettered in gold: National Bureau of Scientific +Development, Dr. William Baker, Director. He was unable to regard that +door without a sense of pride. But he was convinced the pride was +thoroughly justifiable.</p> + +<p>He turned the knob and stepped into the office. Then his brisk stride +came to a pause. He closed the door slowly and frowned. The room was +empty. Neither his receptionist nor his secretary, who should have been +visible in the adjoining room, were at their posts. Through the other +open door, at his left, he could see that his administrative assistant, +Dr. James Pehrson, was not at his desk.</p> + +<p>He had always expected his staff to be punctual. In annoyance that took +some of the glint off this day, he twisted the knob of his own office +door and strode in.</p> + +<p>He stopped just inside the room, and a warm wave of affection welled up +within him. All nine members of his immediate staff were gathered around +the table in the center of his office. On the table was a cake with pink +frosting. A single golden candle burned brightly in the middle of the +inscription: Happy Birthday, Chief.</p> + +<p>The staff broke into a frighteningly off-key rendition of "Happy +Birthday to You." William Baker smiled fondly, catching the eye of each +of them as they badgered the song to its conclusion.</p> + +<p>Afterward, he stood for a moment, aware of the moisture in his own eyes, +then said quietly, "Thank you. Thank you very much, Family. This is most +unexpected. None of you will ever know how much I appreciate your +thoughtfulness."</p> + +<p>"Don't go away," said Doris Quist, his blond and efficient secretary. +"There's more. This is from all of us."</p> + +<p>He opened the package she offered him. A genuine leather brief case. Of +course, the Government didn't approve of gifts like this. If he observed +the rules strictly, he ought to decline the gift, but he just couldn't +do that. The faces of Doris and the others were glowing as he held up +the magnificent brief case. This was the first time such a thing had +occurred in his office, and a man hit fifty only once.</p> + +<p>"Thanks so much for remembering," Baker said. "Things like this and +people like you make it all worth while."</p> + +<p>When they were all gone he sat down at his desk to take up the day's +routine. He felt a little twinge of guilt at the great satisfaction that +filled him. But he couldn't help it. A fine family, an excellent +professional position—a position of prominence and authority in the +field that interested him most—what more could a man want?</p> + +<p>His meditation was interrupted by the buzzing of the interphone. Pehrson +was on the other end. "Just reminding you, Chief," the assistant said. +"Dr. Fenwick will be in at nine-thirty regarding the request for the +Clearwater grant. Would you like to review the file before he arrives?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, please," said Baker. "Bring everything in. There's been no change, +no new information, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not. The Index is hopelessly low. In view of that fact there +can be no answer but a negative one. I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>"It's all right. I can make Fenwick understand, I'm sure. It may take a +little time, and he may erupt a bit, but it'll work out."</p> + +<p>Baker cut off and waited while Pehrson came in silently and laid the +file folders of the offending case on the desk. Pehrson was the epitome +of owl-eyed efficiency, but now he showed sympathy behind his great +horn-rimmed spectacles as he considered Baker's plight. "I wish we could +find some way to make the Clearwater research grant," he said. "With +just a couple of good Ph. D.'s who had published a few things, the Index +would be high enough—"</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter. Fenwick is capable of handling his own troubles." +Pehrson was a good man, but this kind of solicitousness Baker found +annoying.</p> + +<p>"I'll send him in as soon as he comes," Pehrson said as he closed the +door behind him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker sighed as he glanced at the folder labeled, Clearwater College. +Jerkwater is what it should be, he thought. He almost wished he had let +Pehrson handle Fenwick. But one couldn't neglect old friends, even +though there was nothing that could be done for shortsighted ones.</p> + +<p>Baker's memories shifted. He and Fenwick had gone to school together. +Fenwick had always been one to get off into weird wide alleys, mostly +dead ended. Now he was involved in what was probably the most dead ended +of all. For the last three years he had been president of little +Jerkwater—Clearwater College, and he seemed to have some hope that NBSD +could help him out of the hole.</p> + +<p>That was a mistake many people made. Baker sometimes felt that half his +time was spent in explaining that NBSD was not in the business of +helping people and institutions out of holes. It was in the business of +buying for the United States Government the best scientific research +available in the world.</p> + +<p>Fenwick wanted help that would put Clearwater College on its feet +through a research contract in solid state physics. Fenwick, thought +Baker, was dreaming. But that was Fenwick.</p> + +<p>The President of Clearwater College entered the outer office promptly at +nine-thirty. Pehrson greeted him, and Doris showed him into Baker's +office.</p> + +<p>Dr. John Fenwick didn't look like a college president, and Baker, +unknowingly, held this vaguely against him, too. He looked more like a +prosperous small business man and gave the impression of having just +finished a brisk workout on the handball court, and a cold shower. He +was ruddy and robust and ill-equipped with academic dignity.</p> + +<p>Baker pumped his hand as if genuinely glad to see him. "It's good to see +you again, John. Come on over and sit down."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you hoped I'd break a leg on the way here," said Fenwick. He +took a chair by the desk and glanced at the file folder, reading the +title, Clearwater College. "And you've been hoping my application would +get lost, and the whole thing would just disappear."</p> + +<p>"Now, look, John—" Baker took his own seat behind the desk. Fenwick had +always had a devilish knack for making him feel uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," said Fenwick, waving away Baker's protests with a +vigorous flap of his hand. "I know Clearwater isn't MIT or Cal Tech, but +we've got a real hot physics department, and you're going to see some +sparks flying out of there if you'll give us half a chance in the +finance department. What's the good word, anyway? Do we get the research +grant?"</p> + +<p>Baker took a deep breath and settled his arms on the desk in front of +him, leaning on them for support. He wished Fenwick wasn't so abrupt +about things.</p> + +<p>"John," Baker said slowly. "The head of your physics department doesn't +even have a Ph. D. degree."</p> + +<p>Fenwick brightened. "He's working on that, though! I told you that in +answer to the question in the application. Bill, I wish you'd come down +and see that boy. The things he can do with crystals would absolutely +knock your hat off. He can stack them just like a kid stacking building +blocks—crystals that nobody else has ever been able to manipulate so +far. And the electrical characteristics of some of them—you wouldn't +believe the transistors he's been able to build!"</p> + +<p>"John," said Baker patiently. "The head of the physics department in any +institution receiving a grant must have a Ph. D. degree. That is one +absolutely minimum requirement."</p> + +<p>"You mean we've got to wait until George finishes his work for his +degree before we get the grant? That puts us in kind of a predicament +because the work that we hoped to have George do under the grant would +contribute towards his degree. Can't you put it through on the basis +that he'll have his degree just as soon as the present series of +experiments is completed?"</p> + +<p>Baker wiped his forehead and looked down at his hands on the desk. "I +said this is <i>one</i> minimum requirement. There are others, John."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what else are we lacking?" Fenwick looked crestfallen for the first +time.</p> + +<p>"I may as well be blunt," said Baker. "There is no conceivable way in +which Clearwater College can be issued a research grant for +<i>anything</i>—and especially not for basic research in any field of +physical science."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Fenwick just stared at him for a minute as if he couldn't believe what +he had heard, although it was the thing he had expected to hear since +the moment he sat down.</p> + +<p>He seemed deflated when he finally spoke. "I don't think it was the +intent of the Congressional Act that made these funds available," he +said, "that only the big, plush outfits should get all the gravy. There +are plenty of smaller schools just like Clearwater who have first rate +talent in their science departments. It isn't fair to freeze us out +completely—and I don't think it's completely legal, either."</p> + +<p>"Clearwater is not being frozen out. Size has nothing to do with the +question of whether an institution receives a grant from NBSD or not."</p> + +<p>"When did you last give a grant to a college like Clearwater?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid we have never given a grant to a college—like Clearwater," +said Baker carefully.</p> + +<p>Fenwick's face began to grow more ruddy. "Then will you tell me just +what is the matter with Clearwater, that we can't get any Government +research contract when every other Tom, Dick, and Harry outfit in the +country can?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't state my case in exactly those terms, John, but I'll be glad +to explain the basis on which we judge the qualifications of an +institution to receive a grant from us."</p> + +<p>Baker had never done this before for any unsuccessful applicant. In +fact, it was the policy of the Bureau to keep the mysteries of the Index +very carefully concealed from the public. But Baker wanted Fenwick to +know what had hung him. It was the one more or less merciful thing he +could do to show Fenwick what was wrong, and might be sufficient to +shake him loose from his dismal association with Clearwater.</p> + +<p>Baker opened the file folder and Fenwick saw now that it was +considerably fuller than he had first supposed. Baker turned the pages, +which were fastened to the cover by slide fasteners. Chart after chart, +with jagged lines and multicolored areas, flipped by under Baker's +fingers. Then Baker opened the accordian folds of a four-foot long chart +and spread it on the desk top.</p> + +<p>"This is the Index," he said, "a composite of all the individual charts +which you saw ahead of it. This Index shows in graphical form the +relationship between the basic requirements for obtaining a research +grant and the actual qualifications of the applicant. This line marks +the minimum requirement in each area."</p> + +<p>Baker's finger pointed to a thin, black line that crossed the sheet. +Fenwick observed that most of the colored areas and bars on the chart +were well inside the area on Baker's side of the line. He guessed that +the significance of the chart lay in this fact.</p> + +<p>"I take it that Clearwater College is in pretty sad shape, chartwise," +said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"Very," said Baker.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me how these charts are compiled?"</p> + +<p>Baker turned back to the sheaf of individual charts. "Each item of data, +which is considered significant in evaluating an applicant, is plotted +individually against standards which have been derived from an +examination of all possible sources of information."</p> + +<p>"Such as?"</p> + +<p>"For example, the student burden per faculty Ph. D. That is shown on +this chart here."</p> + +<p>"The what? Say that again," said Fenwick in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"The number of students enrolled, plotted against the number of +doctorate degrees held by the faculty."</p> + +<p>"Oh."</p> + +<p>"As you see, Clearwater's index for this factor is dismally low."</p> + +<p>"We're getting a new music director next month. She expects to get her +doctorate next summer."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that doesn't help us now. Besides, it would have to be in a +field pertinent to your application to have much weight."</p> + +<p>"George—"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't help you at all for the present. You would require a minimum of +two in the physics department alone. These two would have to be of +absolutely top quality with a prolific publication record. That would +bring this factor to a bare minimum."</p> + +<p>"You take the number of Ph. D.'s and multiply them by the number of +papers published and the years of experience and divide by the number of +students enrolled. Is that the idea?"</p> + +<p>"Roughly," said Baker. "We have certain constants which we also inject. +In addition, we give weight to other factors such as patents applied for +and granted. Periods of consultation by private industry, and so on. +Each of these factors is plotted separately, then combined into the +overall Index."</p> + +<p>Baker turned the pages slowly, showing Fenwick a bleak record of black +boundary lines cutting through nearly virginal territory on the charts. +Clearwater's evaluation was reflected in a small spot of color near the +bottom edge.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Fenwick stared at the record without expression for a long time. "What +else do you chart?" he said finally.</p> + +<p>"The next thing we evaluate is the performance of students graduated +during the past twenty-five years."</p> + +<p>"Clearwater is only ten years old," said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"True," said Baker, "and that is why, I believe, we have obtained such +an anomalous showing in the chart of this factor."</p> + +<p>Fenwick observed that the colored area had made a considerable invasion +on his side of the boundary on this chart. "Why anomalous? It looks like +we make a pretty good showing here."</p> + +<p>"On the face of it, this is true," Baker admitted. "The ten-year record +of the graduates of Clearwater is exceptional. But the past decade has +been unusual in the scope of opportunities, you must admit."</p> + +<p>"Your standard level must take this into account."</p> + +<p>"It does. But somehow, I am sure there is a factor we haven't recognized +here."</p> + +<p>"There might be," said Fenwick. "There might be, at that."</p> + +<p>"Another factor which contributes to the Index," said Baker, "is the +cultural impact of the institution upon the community. We measure that +in terms of the number and quality of cultural activities brought into +the community by the university or college. We include concerts, +lectures, terpsichorean activities, Broadway plays, and so on."</p> + +<p>"Terpsichorean activities. I like that," said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"Primarily ballet," said Baker.</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"Clearwater's record here is very low. It fact, there isn't any."</p> + +<p>"This helps us get turned down for a research grant in physics?"</p> + +<p>"It's a factor in the measurement of the overall status."</p> + +<p>"Look," said Fenwick, "the citizens of Clearwater are so infernally busy +with their own shindigs that they wouldn't know what to do if we brought +a long-hair performance into town. If it isn't square-dancing in the +Grange Hall, it's a pageant in the Masonic Temple. The married kids +would probably like to see a Broadway play, all right, but they're so +darned busy rehearsing their own in the basement of the Methodist Church +that I doubt they could find time to come. Besides that, there's the +community choir every Thursday, and the high school music department has +a recital nearly every month. People would drop dead if they had any +more to go to in Clearwater. I'd say our culture is doing pretty good."</p> + +<p>"Folk activities are always admirable," said Baker, "but improvement of +the cultural level in any community depends on the injection of outside +influences, and this is one of the functions of the university. +Clearwater College has not performed its obligation to the community in +this respect."</p> + +<p>Fenwick appeared to be growing increasingly ruddy. Baker thought he saw +moisture appearing on Fenwick's forehead.</p> + +<p>"I know this is difficult to face," said Baker sympathetically, "but I +wanted you to understand, once and for all, just how Clearwater College +appears to the completely objective eye."</p> + +<p>Fenwick continued to stare at him without comment. Then he said flatly, +"Let's see some more charts, Bill."</p> + +<p>"Museum activities. This is an important function of a college level +institution. Clearwater has no museum."</p> + +<p>"We can't afford one, in the first place. In the second place, I think +you've overlooked what we do have."</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> a Clearwater museum?" Baker asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Two or three hundred of them, I guess. Every kid in the county has his +own collection of arrowheads, birds' eggs, rocks, and stuffed animals."</p> + +<p>"I'm not joking, John," said Baker bleakly. "The museum aspect of the +college is extremely important."</p> + +<p>"What else?" said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"I won't go into everything we evaluate. But you should be aware of +several other factors pertaining to the faculty, which are evaluated. We +establish an index of heredity for each faculty member. This is +primarily an index of ancestral achievement."</p> + +<p>Fenwick's color deepened. Baker thought it seemed to verge on the +purple. "Should I open the window for a moment?" Baker asked.</p> + +<p>Fenwick shook his head, his throat working as if unable to speak. Then +he finally managed to say, "Apart from the sheer idiocy of it, how did +you obtain any information in this area?"</p> + +<p>Baker ignored the comment, but answered the question. "You filled out +forms. Each faculty member filled out forms."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, that's right. I remember. Acres of forms. None of us minded if it +was to help get the research grant. We supposed it was the usual +Government razzmatazz to keep some GS-9 clerk busy."</p> + +<p>"Our forms are hardly designed to keep people busy. They are designed to +give us needed information about applicant institutions."</p> + +<p>"And so you plot everybody's heredity."</p> + +<p>"As well as possible. You understand, of course, that the data are +necessarily limited."</p> + +<p>"Sure. How do our grandpas stack up on the charts?"</p> + +<p>"Not very well. Among Clearwater's total faculty of thirty-eight there +were no national political figures through three generations back. There +was one mayor, a couple of town councilmen, and a state senator or two. +That is about all."</p> + +<p>"Our people weren't very politically minded."</p> + +<p>"This is a measure of social consciousness and contemporary evaluation."</p> + +<p>Fenwick shrugged. "As I said, we aren't so good at politics."</p> + +<p>"Achievements in welfare activities are similarly lacking. No notable +intentions or discoveries, with the exception of one patent on a new +kind of beehive, appear in the record."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>... But liars figure ...!</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"And this keeps us from getting a research grant in physics? What <i>did</i> +our progenitors do, anyway? Get hung for being horse thieves?"</p> + +<p>"No criminal activities were reported by your people, but there is a +record of singular restlessness and dissatisfaction with established +conditions."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"What did they do?"</p> + +<p>"They were constantly on the move, for the most part. In the eighteenth +and nineteenth centuries they were primarily pioneers, frontiersmen, +settlers of new country. But when the country was established they +usually packed up and went somewhere else. Rovers, trappers, unsettled +people."</p> + +<p>"This is not good?" Fenwick glanced at the chart that was open now. It +was almost uncolored.</p> + +<p>"I regret to say that such people are not classed as the stable element +of communities," said Baker. "We cannot evaluate the index of hereditary +accomplishment for the Clearwater faculty very high."</p> + +<p>"It appears that our grandpas were among those generally given credit +for getting things set up," said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"Such citizens are indeed necessary," said Baker. "But our index +evaluates stability in community life and accomplishments with +long-range effects in science and culture."</p> + +<p>"We haven't got much of a chance then, grandpa being foot-loose as he +was."</p> + +<p>"Other factors could completely override this negative evaluation. You +see, this is the beauty of the Index; it doesn't depend on any one +factor or small group of factors. We evaluate the whole range of factors +that have anything to do with the situation. Weaknesses in one spot may +be counterbalanced by strength in others."</p> + +<p>"It looks like Clearwater is staffed by a bunch of bums without any +strong spots."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't say it in such terms, but the reason I am pointing these +things out to you, John, is to try to persuade you to disassociate +yourself from such a weak organization and go elsewhere. You have fine +talents of your own, but you have always had a pattern of associating +with groups like this one at Clearwater. Don't you see now that the only +thing for you to do is go somewhere where there are people capable of +doing things?"</p> + +<p>"I <i>like</i> Clearwater. I like the people at the College. Where else are +we in the bums category?"</p> + +<p>Baker suddenly didn't want to go on. The whole thing had become +distasteful to him. "There are a good many others. I don't think we need +to go into them. There is the staff reading index, the social activity +index, wardrobe evaluation, hobbies, children—actual and planned."</p> + +<p>"I want to hear about them," said Fenwick. "That wardrobe +evaluation—that sounds like a real fascinating study."</p> + +<p>"Actually, it's comparatively minor," said Baker. "Our psychologists +have worked out some extremely interesting correlations, however. Each +item of a man's wardrobe is assigned a numerical rating. Tuxedo, one or +more. Business suits, color and number. Hunting jackets. Slacks. Sport +coats. Work shoes. Dress shoes. Very interesting what our people can do +with, such information."</p> + +<p>"Clearwater doesn't rate here?"</p> + +<p>Baker indicated the chart. "I'm afraid not. Now, this staff reading +index is somewhat similar. You recall the application forms asked for +the number of pages of various types of material read during the past +six months—scientific journals, newspapers, magazines, fiction."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Clearwater is a pretty illiterate bunch," said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>Baker pointed soundlessly to the graph.</p> + +<p>"Hobbies and social activities are not bad," Baker said, after a time. +"Almost up to within ten points of the standard. A few less bingo +parties and Brownie meetings and that many more book reviews or serious +soirees would balance the social activity chart. If the model railroad +club were canceled and a biological activity group substituted, the +hobby classification would look much better. Then, in the number of +children, actual and planned, Clearwater is definitely out of line, too. +You see, the standard takes the form of the well-known bell-shaped +curve. Clearwater is way down on the high side."</p> + +<p>"Too much biological activity already," Fenwick murmured.</p> + +<p>Baker looked up. "What was that? I didn't hear what you said."</p> + +<p>Fenwick leaned back and extended his arms on the desk. "I said your +whole damned Index is nothing but a bunch of pseudo-intellectual +garbage."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker felt the color rising in his face, but he forced himself to remain +calm. After a moment of silence he said. "Your emotional feelings are +understandable, but you must remember that the Index permits us to +administer accurately the National Science Development Act. Without the +scientific assurance of the Index there would be no way of determining +where these precious funds could best be utilized."</p> + +<p>"You'd be better off putting the money on the ponies," said Fenwick. +"Sometimes they win. As it stands, you've set it up for a sure loss. You +haven't got a chance in the world."</p> + +<p>"You think Clearwater College could make better use of some of our funds +than, say, MIT?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be surprised. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying the boys at +MIT or Cal Tech or a lot of other places couldn't come up with a real +development in the way of a fermodacular filter for reducing +internucleated cross currents. But the real breakthroughs—you've closed +your doors and locked them out."</p> + +<p>"Who have we locked out? We've screened and fine combed the resources of +the entire country. We know exactly where the top research is being +conducted in every laboratory in the nation."</p> + +<p>Fenwick shook his head slowly and smiled. "You've forgotten the boys +working in their basements and in their back yard garages. You've +forgotten the guys that persuade the wife to put up with a busted-down +automatic washer for another month so they can buy another hundred bucks +worth of electronic parts. You've remembered the guys who have Ph. D.'s +for writing 890-page dissertations on the Change of Color in the Nubian +Daisy after Twilight, but you've forgotten guys like George Durrant, who +can make the atoms of a crystal turn handsprings for him."</p> + +<p>Baker leaned back in his chair and smiled. He almost wished he hadn't +wasted the effort of trying to show Fenwick. But, then, he had tried. +And he would always have regretted it if he hadn't.</p> + +<p>"You're referring now to the crackpot fringe?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said Fenwick. "I've heard it called that before."</p> + +<p>"One of the things, above all else, which the Index was designed to +accomplish," said Baker, "was the screening out of all elements that +might be ever so remotely associated with the crackpot fringe. And +believe me, you'll never know how strong it is in this country! Every +two-bit tinkerer wants a handout to develop his world-shaking gadget +that will suppress the fizz after the cap is removed from a pop bottle, +or adapt any apartment-size bathtub for raising tropical fish."</p> + +<p>"You ever heard of the flotation process?" said Fenwick abruptly.</p> + +<p>Baker frowned at the sudden shift of thought. "Of course—"</p> + +<p>"What would the world be like without the flotation process?"</p> + +<p>"The metals industry would be vastly different, of course. Copper would +be much scarcer and higher priced. Gold—"</p> + +<p>"A ton of ore and maybe a pound of recovered metal, right?" said +Fenwick. "Move a mountain of waste to get anything of value. Crush +millions of tons of rock and float out the pinpoint particles of metal +on bubbles of froth."</p> + +<p>"That's a rough description of what happens."</p> + +<p>"You've heard of high-grading."</p> + +<p>"Of course. A somewhat colloquial term used in mining."</p> + +<p>"The high-grader takes a pick and digs for anything big enough to see +and pick up with his hands. He doesn't worry about the small stuff that +takes sweat and machinery to recover."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so. I fail to see the significance—"</p> + +<p>"You're high-grading, Bill," said Fenwick. He leaned across the desk and +spoke with bitter intensity. "You're high-grading and you should be +using a flotation process."</p> + +<p>Fenwick slowly drew back in his chair. Baker felt overwhelmed by the +sudden intensity he had never before seen displayed in John Fenwick. Any +reaction on his part seemed suddenly inadequate. "I fail to see any +connection—," he said finally.</p> + +<p>Fenwick looked at him steadily. "Human creativeness can be mined only by +flotation methods. It's in low-grade ore. Process a million stupid +notions and find a pin point of genius. Turn over enormous wastes of +human thought and recover a golden principle. But turn your back on +these mountains of low-grade material and you shut out the wealth of +creative thought that is buried in them. More than that, by high-grading +only where rich veins have appeared in the past, you're mining lodes +that have played out."</p> + +<p>"An ingenious analogy," said Baker, recovering with a smile now. "But +it's hardly an accurate or applicable one. The human mind is not a piece +of precious metal found in a mountain of ore. Rather, it's an intricate +device capable of producing computations of unbelievable complexity. And +we know how such devices that are superior in function are produced, and +we know what their characteristics are. We also know that such a device +does not 'play out'. If it is superior in function, it can remain so for +a long time."</p> + +<p>"High-grading," said Fenwick. "And the vein is played out. You'll never +find the thing you're looking for until you develop means of processing +low-grade material."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker watched Fenwick across the desk. He was weary of the whole thing. +He certainly had no need to prove himself to this man. He had simply +tried to do Fenwick a favor, and Fenwick had thrown it right back in his +face. Yet there was a temptation to go on, to prove to Fenwick the +difference between their two worlds. Fenwick belonged to a world +compounded of inevitable failure. The temptation to show him, to try +again to lift him out of it was born of a kind of pity for Fenwick.</p> + +<p>Baker's own life had arrowed decisively, without waver, to a goal that +was as correct as the tolerances of human error could make it. He often +permitted himself the pride of considering his mind somewhat as a +computer that had been programmed through a magnificent gene inheritance +to drive irresistibly toward the precise goals he had reached. But +Fenwick—Fenwick was still fumbling around in a morass of uncertainty. +After years of erratic starts and stops he was now confusedly trying to +make something out of that miserable little institution called +Clearwater College.</p> + +<p>It wasn't particularly friendship that urged Baker to show Fenwick. +Their friendship was of a breed that Baker had never quite been able to +define to his own satisfaction. It seemed to him there was a sort of +deadly fascination in associating with a man who walked so blindly, who +was so profoundly incapable of understanding his own blindness and +peril.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to show you," Baker said abruptly, "exactly what it would +mean if we were to do as you suggest. I'll show you what it would be +like to give attention to every halfwit and crackpot that comes begging +for a handout." He switched the intercom and spoke into it. "Doris, +please bring in the Ellerbee file. Yes—the crackpot section."</p> + +<p>He switched off. "Doris has her own quaint but quite accurate way of +cataloguing our various applications," he explained.</p> + +<p>In a moment the secretary entered and placed the file on the desk. +"There's a new letter in there," she said. "Dr. Pehrson initialed it. He +said you didn't want to be bothered any more with this case."</p> + +<p>"That's right."</p> + +<p>Baker opened the file and shoved it toward Fenwick. "This boy has a +gadget he wants us to look at. Doesn't really need any money, he says. +That's the kind we really have to be on guard against. If we looked at +his wonder gadget, we'd be pestered for a million-dollar handout for +years to come."</p> + +<p>"What's he got?" Fenwick asked.</p> + +<p>"Some kind of communication device, he says. He claims it's nothing but +a grown crystal which you hold in your hand and talk to anybody anywhere +on Earth."</p> + +<p>"Sounds like it wouldn't take much to find out whether he's got anything +or not. Just let him put on a five-minute demonstration."</p> + +<p>"But multiply that five minutes by a thousand, by ten thousand. And once +you let them get their teeth into you, it doesn't stop with five +minutes. It goes on into reams of letters and years of time. No, you +have to stop this kind of thing before it ever starts. But take a look +at some of this material in the file and you'll see what I mean."</p> + +<p>Fenwick picked up the top letter as Baker pushed the file toward him. +"He starts this one by saying, 'Dear Urban.' Is that what he calls you? +What does he mean?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? He's a crackpot, I told you. Who cares what he means, +anyway. We've got far more important things to worry about."</p> + +<p>Fenwick scanned the letter a moment, then looked up, a faint smile on +his face. "I know what he means. Urban—Pope Urban—was the one +responsible for the persecutions of Galileo."</p> + +<p>Baker shrugged embarrassedly. "I told you he was a crackpot. Delusions +of grandeur and of persecution are typical."</p> + +<p>"This boy may not be as crazy as he sounds. You're giving him a pretty +good imitation of a Galileo treatment—won't even look at his device. He +says here that 'Since you have previously refused to examine my device +and have questioned my reliability as an observer, I have obtained the +services of three unbiased witnesses, whose affidavits, signed and +notarized, are attached. These men are the Fire Chief, the Chief of +Police, and the Community Church Pastor of Redrock, all of whom testify +that they did see my device in full operation this past week. I trust +that this evidence will persuade you that an investigation should be +made of my device. I fail to see how the bull-headedness and +cocksureness of your office can withstand any more of the evidence I +have to offer in support of my claims.'"</p> + +<p>"A typical crackpot letter," said Baker. "He tries to be reasonable, but +his colors are soon shown when he breaks down into vituperative language +like a frustrated child."</p> + +<p>Fenwick thumbed through the large pile of correspondence. "I'd say +anybody would likely blow his stack a good deal harder than this if he'd +been trying to get your attention this long. Why didn't he ever send you +one of his gadgets in the mail?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, he did," said Baker. "That was one of the first things he did."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?"</p> + +<p>"Sent it back. We always return these things by registered return mail."</p> + +<p>"Without even trying it out?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Bill, that isn't even reasonable. These earlier letters of his describe +the growing of these crystals. He tells exactly how he does it. He knows +what he's talking about. I'd like to see him and see his crystal."</p> + +<p>"That's what I was hoping you'd say! All we have to do is get Doris to +give him a call and he'll be here first thing in the morning. You can be +our official investigator. You can see what it's like dealing with a +crackpot!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>James Ellerbee was a slim man, impetuous and energetic. Fenwick liked +him on sight. He was not a technical man; he was a farmer. But he was an +educated farmer. He had a degree from the State Agricultural College. He +dabbled in amateur radio and electronics as a hobby.</p> + +<p>"I'm certainly glad someone is finally willing to give me a break and +take a look at my device," he said as he shook Fenwick's hand. "I've had +nothing but a runaround from this office for the past eight months. Yet, +according to all the publicity, this is where the nation's scientific +progress is evaluated."</p> + +<p>Fenwick felt like a hypocrite. "We get pretty overloaded," he said +lamely.</p> + +<p>They were in Baker's office. Baker watched smugly from behind his desk. +Ellerbee said, "Well, we might as well get started. All you have to do, +Mr. Fenwick, is hold one of these crystal cubes in your hand. I'll go in +the other office and close the door. It may help at first if you close +your eyes, but this is not really necessary."</p> + +<p>"Wait," said Fenwick. Somehow he wanted to get away from Baker while +this was going on. "I'd like to take it outside, somewhere in the open. +Would that be all right?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. Makes no difference where you try it," said Ellerbee. "One place +is as good as another."</p> + +<p>Baker waved a hand as they went out. "Good luck," he said. He smiled +confidently at Fenwick.</p> + +<p>As far as Fenwick could see, the crystal was not even potted or cased in +any way. The raw crystal lay in his hand. The striations of the +multitude of layers in which it was laid down were plainly visible.</p> + +<p>Ellerbee dropped Fenwick off by the Jefferson memorial, then drove on +about a mile. Still in sight, he stopped the car and got out. Fenwick +saw him wave a hand. Nothing happened.</p> + +<p>Fenwick glanced down at the crystal in his hand. About the size of a +child's toy block. He could almost understand Baker's position. It <i>was</i> +pretty silly to suppose this thing could have the powers Ellerbee said +it had. No electric energy applied. It merely amplified the normal +telepathic impulses existing in every human mind, Ellerbee said. Fenwick +sighed. You just couldn't tell ahead of time that a thing wasn't going +to pan out. He knew his philosophy was right. These had to be +investigated—every lousy, crackpot one of them. You could never tell +what you were missing out on unless you did check.</p> + +<p>He squeezed harder on the crystal, as Ellerbee had told him to do.</p> + +<p>It was just a little fuzzy at first, fading and coming back. Then it was +there, shimmering a little, but steady. The image of Ellerbee standing +in front of him, grinning.</p> + +<p>Fenwick glanced down the road. Ellerbee was still there, a mile away. +But he was also right there in front of him, about four feet away.</p> + +<p>"It shakes you up a little bit at first," said Ellerbee. "But you get +used to it after a while. Anyway, this is it. Are you convinced my +device works?"</p> + +<p>Fenwick shook his head to try to clear it rather than to give a negative +answer. "I'm convinced <i>something</i> is working," he said. "I'm just not +quite sure what it is."</p> + +<p>"I'll drive across town," Ellerbee offered. "You can see that distance +makes no difference at all. Later, I'll prove it works clear across the +country if you want me to."</p> + +<p>They arranged that proof of Ellerbee's presence on the other side of the +city could be obtained by Fenwick's calling him at a drug store pay +phone. Then they would communicate by means of the cubes.</p> + +<p>It was no different than before.</p> + +<p>The telephone call satisfied Fenwick that Ellerbee was at least ten +miles away. Then, within a second, he also appeared to be standing +directly in front of Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" said Fenwick finally. "What do you want the Bureau +to do about your device? How much money do you want for development?"</p> + +<p>"Money? I don't need any money!" Ellerbee exploded. "All I want is for +the Government to make some use of the thing. I've had a patent on it +for six months. The Patent Office had sense enough to give me a patent, +but nobody else would look at it. I just want somebody to make some use +of it!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure a great many practical applications can be found," Fenwick +said lamely. "We'll have to make a report, first, however. There will be +a need for a great many more experiments—"</p> + +<p>But most important of all, Baker would have to be shown. Baker would +have to <i>know</i> from his own experience that this thing worked.</p> + +<p>Fenwick suddenly wanted to get away from Ellerbee as much as he had from +Baker a little earlier. There was just so much a man's aging synapses +could stand, he told himself. He had to do a bit of thinking by himself. +When Ellerbee drove up again, Fenwick told him what he wanted.</p> + +<p>Ellerbee looked disappointed but resigned. "I hope this isn't another +runaround, Mr. Fenwick. You'll pardon me for being blunt, but I've had +some pretty raw treatment from your office since I started writing about +my communicator."</p> + +<p>"I promise you this isn't a runaround," said Fenwick, "but it's +absolutely necessary to get Dr. Baker to view your demonstration. We +will want to see your laboratories and your methods of production. I +promise you it won't be more than two or three days, depending on Dr. +Baker's busy schedule."</p> + +<p>"O.K. I'll wait until the end of the week," said Ellerbee. "If I don't +hear something by then, I'll go ahead with my plans to market the +crystals as a novelty gadget."</p> + +<p>"I'll be in touch with you. I promise," said Fenwick. He stood by the +curb and watched Ellerbee drive away.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Fenwick moved slowly back to his own car and sat behind the wheel +without starting the motor. It seemed a long time since nine-thirty +yesterday morning, when he had come in to Baker's office to check on the +grant he had known Baker wasn't going to give him. Now, merely by +kicking Baker's refuse pile with his toe, so to speak, he had turned up +a diamond that Baker was ready to discard.</p> + +<p>Fenwick felt a sudden surge of revulsion. How was it possible for such a +blind, ignorant fool as Baker to be placed in the position he was in? +How could the administrative officers of the United States Government be +responsible for such misjudgment? Such maladministration, if performed +consciously, would be sheer treason. Yet, unconsciously and ignorantly, +Baker's authority was perpetuated, giving him a stranglehold on the +creative powers of the nation.</p> + +<p>Fenwick tried to recall how he and Baker had become friends—so long +ago, in their own college days. It wasn't that there was any closeness +or common interest between them, yet they seemed to have drawn together +as two opposites might. They were both science majors at the time, but +their philosophies were so different that their studies were hardly a +common ground.</p> + +<p>Fenwick figuratively threw away the textbook the first time the +professor's back was turned. Baker, Fenwick thought, never took his eyes +from its pages. Fenwick distrusted everything that he could not prove +himself. Baker believed nothing that was not solidly fixed in black and +white and bound between sturdy cloth covers, and prefaced by the name of +a man who boasted at least two graduate degrees.</p> + +<p>Fenwick remembered even now his first reaction to Baker. He had never +seen his kind before and could not believe that such existed. He +supposed Baker felt similarly about him, and, out of the strange +contradiction of their worlds, they formed a hesitant friendship. For +himself, Fenwick supposed that it was based on a kind of fascination in +associating with one who walked so blindly, who was so profoundly +incapable of understanding his own blindness and peril.</p> + +<p>But never before had he realized the absolute danger that rested in the +hands of Baker. And there must be others like him in high Government +scientific circles, Fenwick thought. He had learned long ago that +Baker's kind was somewhere in the background in every laboratory and +scientific office.</p> + +<p>But few of them achieved the strangling power that Baker now possessed.</p> + +<p>The Index! Fenwick thought of it and gagged. Wardrobe evaluation! Staff +reading index! The reproductive ratio—social activity index—the index +of hereditary accomplishment—multiply your ancestors by the number of +technical papers your five-year old children have produced and divide by +the number of book reviews you attend weekly—</p> + +<p>Fenwick slumped in the seat. We hold these truths to be +self-evident—that the ratio of sports coats to tuxedos in a faculty +member's closet shall determine whether Clearwater gets to do research +in solid state physics, whether George Durrant gives his genius to the +nation or whether it gets buried in Dr. William Baker's refuse pile.</p> + +<p>But not only George Durrant. Jim Ellerbee, too. And how many others?</p> + +<p>Something had to be done.</p> + +<p>Fenwick hadn't realized it before, but this was the thought that had +been churning in his cortex for the last hour. Something had to be done +about Bill Baker.</p> + +<p>But, short of murder, what?</p> + +<p>Getting rid of Baker physically was not the answer, of course. If he +were gone, a hundred others like him would fight for his place.</p> + +<p>Baker had to be shown. He had to be shown that high-grading was costing +him the very thing he was trying to find. It must be proven to him that +flotation methods work as well in mining human resources as in mining +metal. That the extra trouble paid off.</p> + +<p>This was known—a long time ago—Fenwick thought. Somewhere along the +way things got changed. He glanced toward the Jefferson Memorial. Tom +Jefferson knew how it should be, Tom Jefferson, statesman, farmer, +writer, and amateur mechanic and inventor. It was not only every +gentleman's privilege, it was also his duty to be a tinkerer and amateur +scientist, no matter what else he might be.</p> + +<p>Fenwick glanced in the distance toward the Lincoln Memorial. Abe had +done his share of tinkering. His weird boot-strap system for hoisting +river boats off shoals and bars hadn't amounted to much, but Abe knew +the principle that every man has the right to be his own scientist.</p> + +<p>And then there was Ben Franklin, the noblest amateur of them all! He had +roamed these parts, too.</p> + +<p>Somewhere it had been lost. The Bill Bakers would have laughed out of +existence the great tinkerers like Franklin and Lincoln and Jefferson. +And the Pasteurs and the Mendels—and the George Durrants and the Jim +Ellerbees, too.</p> + +<p>Fenwick started the car. Something had to be done about Bill Baker.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. "So it worked, did +it? He showed you something that made you think he had a real working +device."</p> + +<p>"There was no 'think' about it," said Fenwick. "I saw it with my own +eyes. That boy's got something terrific!"</p> + +<p>Baker sobered and thumbed through the Ellerbee file again. "Any freshman +math major could poke holes all through this mathematical explanation he +offers. Right? Secondly, a device such as he claims to have produced +violates all the basic laws of science. Why, it's even against the +Second Law of Thermodynamics!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care what it's against," said Fenwick. "It works. I want you to +come with me to Ellerbee's and see for yourself. His device will +revolutionize communications."</p> + +<p>Baker shook his head sadly. "It's always tougher when they show you +something that seems to work. Then you've got to waste a lot of time +looking for the gimmick if you're going to follow it through. I just +haven't got the time—"</p> + +<p>"You've got to, Bill!"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I'll do. You go out there and look over his setup. +If you can't find his gimmick in half a day, I'll come out and show it +to you. But I warn you, some of these things are very tricky—like the +old perpetual motion machines. You've got to have your wits about you. +Is that fair enough?"</p> + +<p>"Fair enough," Fenwick agreed.</p> + +<p>Baker smiled broadly. "I'll do even more. If this Ellerbee device should +prove to be on the level, I'll give you the research grant you want for +Clearwater."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure I want it on those terms," said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a purely academic matter. You won't have to worry about it. +But, on the other hand, I'll expect you to agree that when Ellerbee is +exposed you'll not persist in your request to this office."</p> + +<p>"Well, now—"</p> + +<p>"That's a fair offer. I'm giving you a chance to prove I'm wrong in +setting up the Index to screen out people like Ellerbee—"</p> + +<p>"—And institutions like Clearwater."</p> + +<p>"And institutions like Clearwater," Baker agreed.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Fenwick. "I'll gamble with you—for one more stake: If +Ellerbee's device is on the level, you'll make a grant to Clearwater +<i>and</i> other institutions of like qualifications, and you'll scrap that +insane Index—"</p> + +<p>Baker tapped the desk placatingly. "The grant to Clearwater, yes. As for +the Index, if it should fail in its applicability to this clear-cut +Ellerbee case I would be the first to want to know why. But I assure you +there is no flaw in the Index. It has been tried too many thousands of +times."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Ellerbee's place was in Virginia, in a dairying area in the hills. The +last ten miles of the road were not the kind to attract visitors. The +road was steep and narrow in places that turned sharply around the +hillsides. No guardrails blocked the descent into the steep gullies. It +was definitely a region for people who liked solitude. The farms that +lay in the valleys of the hills were neat and well-cared for, however. +The people Fenwick passed on the road didn't look like the recluse type.</p> + +<p>Ellerbee's farm was one of the best looking in the vicinity. It had the +look of being cared for by a man who could do everything. The huge barn +and the corrals were as neat as a garden, and the large white frame +farmhouse stood out like a monument against the green pasture.</p> + +<p>A woman and two children were in the garden beside the house as Fenwick +drove up. "May I help you? I'm Mrs. Ellerbee," the woman said.</p> + +<p>Fenwick explained who he was and his purpose in coming. "Jim's been +expecting you," the woman said. "His laboratory is the long white +building back of the house. He's out there now."</p> + +<p>Jim Ellerbee met him at the door. "You didn't bring Dr. Baker," he said +almost accusingly.</p> + +<p>"Later," said Fenwick. "I came, as I promised. Dr. Baker wants my report +on your facilities and production methods. Then he will come up to make +his own inspection."</p> + +<p>There was doubt in Ellerbee's eyes, as if he was used to such stories. +"Maybe it would be best if I marketed the crystals in any form I can," +he said.</p> + +<p>He led Fenwick through a number of rooms of expensive, precision +electronic equipment. Then they passed through a set of double doors, +which Fenwick observed acted as a thermal lock between the crystal +growing room and the rest of the building. It reminded him of George +Durrant's laboratory at Clearwater.</p> + +<p>"This is where the crystals are grown," said Ellerbee. "I suppose you're +familiar with such processes. Here we must use a very precisely +controlled sequence of co-crystallization to get layers of desired +thickness—"</p> + +<p>Fenwick wasn't listening. He had suddenly observed the second man in the +room, a rather small, swarthy man, who moved with quiet precision among +a row of tanks on the far side of the room. There was a startling +quality about the man that Fenwick was unable to define, a strangeness.</p> + +<p>Ellerbee caught the direction of his glance. "Oh," he said. "You must +meet my neighbor, Sam Atkins. Sam is in this as deep or even deeper than +I am. I think perhaps he's more responsible for the communicator +crystals."</p> + +<p>The man turned as his name was mentioned, and came toward them. "You +were the one who developed the crystals," he said in a soft, persuasive +voice, to Jim Ellerbee.</p> + +<p>"This is my setup," Ellerbee explained with a wave of his hand to +indicate the laboratory surroundings. "But Sam has been working with me +for about a year on this thing. When Sam moved in, we found we were both +radio hams and electronic bugs. I'd been fooling around with crystal +growing, trying to design some new type transistors. Then Sam suggested +some experiments in co-crystallization—using different chemicals that +will crystallize in successive layers in one crystal.</p> + +<p>"We stumbled on one combination that made a terrific amplifier. Then we +found it would actually radiate to a distant point all by itself. +Finally, we discovered that its radiation was completely +nonelectromagnetic. There is no way we have yet found of detecting the +radiation from the crystal—except by means of another piece of the same +crystal.</p> + +<p>"I know it's against all the rules in the books. It just doesn't make +sense. But there it is. It works."</p> + +<p>Sam Atkins had turned away for a moment to attend to one of the tanks, +but Fenwick found himself intensely aware of the man's presence. There +was nothing he could put his finger on. He just knew, with such intense +certainty, that Sam Atkins was <i>there</i>.</p> + +<p>"What does Mr. Atkins do?" Fenwick asked. "Does he have a dairy farm, +too?"</p> + +<p>Ellerbee nodded. "His place is right next to mine. Since we started this +project Sam has practically lived here, however. He's a bachelor, and so +he takes most of his meals with us."</p> + +<p>"Seems strange—" Fenwick mused, "two men like you, way out here in the +country, doing work on a level with that of the best crystal labs in the +country. I should think you'd both rather be in academic or industrial +work."</p> + +<p>Ellerbee smiled and looked up through the windows to the meadows beyond. +"We're <i>free</i> out here," he said.</p> + +<p>Fenwick thought of Baker. "You are that," he said.</p> + +<p>"You said you wanted to investigate the whole production process. We'll +start here, if you like, and I'll show you every step in our process. +This tank contains an ordinary alum solution. We start building on a +seed crystal of alum and continue until we reach a precise thickness. +Here is a solution of chrome alum. You'll note the insulated tanks. Room +temperature is maintained within half a degree. The solutions are held +to within one-tenth of a degree. Crystal dimensions must be held to +tolerances of little more than the thickness of a molecule—"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The gimmick to fool him and cheat him. Where was it? Fenwick asked +himself. Baker was sure it was here. If so, where could it be? There was +no trickery in the crystal laboratory—unless it was the trickery of +precision refinement of methods. Only men of great mechanical skill +could accomplish what Ellerbee and his friend were doing. Genius behind +the milking machine! Fenwick could almost sympathize with Baker in his +hiding behind the ridiculous Index. Without some such protection a man +could encounter shocks.</p> + +<p>The crackpot fringe.</p> + +<p>Where else would credence have been given to the phenomenon of a crystal +that seemed to radiate in a nonelectromagnetic way?</p> + +<p>But, of course, it couldn't actually be doing that. All the books, all +the authorities, and the known scientific principles said it couldn't +happen. Therefore, it wouldn't have happened—outside the crackpot +fringe.</p> + +<p>If Ellerbee and Atkins weren't trying to foist a deliberate deception, +where were they mistaken? It was possible for such men as these to make +an honest mistake. That would more than likely turn out to be the case +here. But how could there be a mistake in the production of a phenomenon +such as Fenwick had witnessed? How could that be produced through some +error when it couldn't even be done by known electronic methods—not +just as Fenwick had seen it.</p> + +<p>Throughout the morning Ellerbee led him down the rows of tanks, +explaining at each step what was happening. Sometimes Sam Atkins offered +a word of explanation also, but always he stayed in the background. The +two farmers showed Fenwick how they measured crystal size down to the +thickness of a molecule while the crystals were growing.</p> + +<p>A sudden suspicion crossed Fenwick's mind. "If those dimensions are so +critical, how did you determine them in the first place?"</p> + +<p>"Initially, it was a lucky accident," said Sam Atkins.</p> + +<p>"Very lucky," said Fenwick, "if you were able to accidentally obtain a +crystal of fifteen layers or so and have each layer even approximately +correct."</p> + +<p>Sam smiled blandly. "Our first crystals were not so complex, you +understand. Only three layers. We thought we were building transistors, +then. Later, our mathematics showed us the advantage of additional +layers and gave us the dimensions."</p> + +<p>The mathematics that Baker said a kid could poke holes in. Fenwick +didn't know. He hadn't checked the math.</p> + +<p>Where was the gimmick?</p> + +<p>In the afternoon they took him out for field tests again. A rise behind +the barn was about a mile from a similar rise on Sam Atkins' place. They +communicated across that distance in all the ways, including various +kinds of codes, that Fenwick could think of to find some evidence of +hoax. Afterwards, they returned to the laboratory and sawed in two the +crystals they had just used. Then they showed him the tests they had +devised to determine the nature of the radiation between the crystals.</p> + +<p>He did not find the gimmick.</p> + +<p>By the end of the day Ellerbee seemed beat, as if he'd been under a +heavy strain all day long. And then Fenwick realized that was actually +the case. Ellerbee wanted desperately to have someone believe in him, +believe in his communication device. Not only had he used all the +reasoning power at his command, he had been straining physically to +induce Fenwick to believe.</p> + +<p>Through it all, however, Sam Atkins seemed to remain bland and utterly +at ease, as if it made absolutely no difference to him, whatever.</p> + +<p>"I guess we've just about shot our wad," said Ellerbee. "That's about +all we've got to show you. If we haven't convinced you by now that our +communicator works, I don't know how we can accomplish it."</p> + +<p>Had they convinced him? Fenwick asked himself. Did he believe what he +had seen or didn't he? He had been smug in front of Baker after the +first demonstration, but now he wondered how much he had been covered by +the same brush that had tarred Baker.</p> + +<p>It wasn't easy for him to admit the possibility of nonelectromagnetic +radiation from these strange crystals, radiation which could carry sight +and sound from one point to another without any transducers but the +crystals themselves.</p> + +<p>"You have to step out of the world you've grown accustomed to," said Sam +Atkins very quietly. "This is what we have had to do. It's not hard now +to comprehend that telepathic forces of the mind can be directed by this +means. This is a new pattern. Think of it as such. Don't try to cram it +into the old pattern. Then it's easy."</p> + +<p>A new pattern. That was the trouble, Fenwick thought. There couldn't +really be any new patterns, could there? There was only one basic +pattern, in which all the phenomena of the universe fit. He readily +admitted that very little was known about that pattern, and many things +believed true were false. But the Second Law of Thermodynamics. <i>That</i> +had to be true—invariably true—didn't it?</p> + +<p>If there was a hoax, Baker would have to find it.</p> + +<p>"I'll be back with Dr. Baker in a couple of days," Fenwick said. "After +that, the one final evidence we'll need will be to construct these +crystals in our own laboratories, entirely on our own, based on your +instructions."</p> + +<p>Ellerbee nodded agreement. "That would suit us just fine."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Hypnotism," said Baker. "It sounds like some form of hypnotism, and I +don't like that kind of thing. It could merit criminal prosecution."</p> + +<p>"There's no possible way I could have been hypnotized," said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"These crystals—obviously it has something to do with them. But I +wonder what their game is, anyway? It's hard to see where they can think +they're headed."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Fenwick. "But you promised to show me the gimmick +if I couldn't find it in half a day. I spent a whole day out there +without finding anything."</p> + +<p>Baker slapped the desk in exasperation. "You're not really going to make +me go out there and look at this fool thing, are you? I know I made a +crazy promise, but I was sure you could find where they were hoaxing you +if you took one look at their setup. It's probably so obvious you just +stumbled right over it without even seeing it was there."</p> + +<p>"Possibly. But you're going to have to show me."</p> + +<p>"John, look—"</p> + +<p>"Or, I <i>might</i> be willing to take that Clearwater research grant without +any more questions on either side."</p> + +<p>Baker thought of the repercussions that would occur in his own office, +let alone outside it, if he ever approved such a grant. "All right," he +sighed. "You've got me over a barrel. I'll drive my car. I may have to +stop at some offices on the other side of town."</p> + +<p>"I might be going on, rather than coming back to town," said Fenwick. "I +ought to have my car, too. Suppose I meet you out there?"</p> + +<p>"Good enough. Say one o'clock. I'm sure that will give us more time than +we need."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker was prompt. He arrived with an air of +let's-get-this-over-as-quick-as-possible. He nodded perfunctorily as +Ellerbee introduced his wife. He scarcely looked at Sam Atkins.</p> + +<p>"I hope you've got your demonstration all set up," he said. He glanced +at the darkening sky. "It looks like we might get some heavy rain this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"We're all ready," said Ellerbee. "Sam will drive over to that little +hill on his farm, and we'll go out behind the barn."</p> + +<p>On the knoll, Baker accepted the crystal cube without looking at it. +Clenching it in his fist, he put his hand in his pocket. Fenwick guessed +he was trying to avoid any direct view and thus avoid the possibility of +hypnotic effects. This seemed pretty farfetched to Fenwick.</p> + +<p>Through field glasses Sam Atkins was seen to get out of his car and walk +to the top of the knoll. He stood a moment, then waved to signal his +readiness.</p> + +<p>"Press the crystal in your hand," Ellerbee said to Baker. "Direct your +attention toward Sam Atkins."</p> + +<p>Each of them had a cube of the same crystal. It was like a party line. +Fenwick pressed his only slightly. He had learned it didn't take much. +He saw Baker hesitate, then purse his lips as if in utter disgust, and +follow instructions.</p> + +<p>In a moment the image of Sam Atkins appeared before them. Regardless of +their position, the image gave the illusion of standing about four feet +in front of them.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Dr. Baker," Sam Atkins said.</p> + +<p>Fenwick thought Baker was going to collapse.</p> + +<p>The director just stood for a moment, like a creature that had been +pole-axed. Then his color began to deepen and he turned with robot +stiffness. "Did you men hear anything? Fenwick ... did you hear ... did +you see?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," said Fenwick, grinning broadly. "Sam Atkins said good afternoon +to you. It would be polite if you answered him back."</p> + +<p>The image of Sam Atkins was still before them. He, too, was grinning +broadly. The grins infuriated Baker.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Atkins," said Baker.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dr. Baker," said Sam Atkins.</p> + +<p>"If you hear me, wave your hands. I will observe you through the field +glasses."</p> + +<p>"The field glasses won't be necessary."</p> + +<p>Both the image before them, and the distant figure on the knoll were +seen to wave arms and gyrate simultaneously. For good measure, Sam +Atkins turned a cartwheel.</p> + +<p>Baker seemed to have partly recovered. "There seems to be a very +remarkable effect present here," he said cautiously.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Baker," Jim Ellerbee spoke earnestly, "I know you're skeptical. You +don't think the crystals do what I say they do. Even though you see it +with your own eyes you doubt that it is happening. I will do anything +possible to test this device to your satisfaction. Name the test that +will dispel your doubts and we will perform it!"</p> + +<p>"It's not entirely a question of demonstration, Mr. Ellerbee," said +Baker. "There are the theoretical considerations as well. The +mathematics you have submitted in support of your claim are not, to put +it mildly, sound."</p> + +<p>"I know. Sam keeps telling me that. He says we need an entirely new math +to handle it. Maybe we'll get around to that. But the important thing is +that we've got a working device."</p> + +<p>"Your mathematical basis <i>must</i> be sound!" Baker's fervor returned. +Fenwick felt a sudden surge of pity for the director.</p> + +<p>The demonstration was repeated a dozen times more. Fenwick went over on +Sam Atkins' hill. He and Baker conversed privately.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3> ... <i>"Presence," with the crystals, was not a physical +thing</i> ...</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Do you see it yet?" Fenwick asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm afraid I don't!" Baker was snappish. "This is one of the most +devilish things I've ever come across!"</p> + +<p>"You don't think it's working the way Jim and Sam say it is?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. The thing is utterly impossible! I am convinced a +hypnotic condition is involved, but I must admit I don't see how."</p> + +<p>"You may figure it out when you go through Ellerbee's lab."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker was obviously shaken. He spoke in subdued tones as Ellerbee +started the tour of the crystal lab again. Baker's eyes took in +everything. As the tour progressed he seemed to devour each new item +with frenzied intensity. He inspected the crystals through a microscope. +He checked the measurements of the thickness of the growing crystal +layers.</p> + +<p>The rain began while they were in the crystal lab. It beat furiously on +the roof of the laboratory building, but Baker seemed scarcely aware +that it was taking place. His eyes sought out every minute feature of +the building. Fenwick was sure he was finding nothing to confirm his +belief that the communicator crystals were a hoax.</p> + +<p>Fenwick hadn't realized it before, but he recognized now that it would +be a terrific blow to Baker if he couldn't prove the existence of a +hoax.</p> + +<p>Proof that the communicator crystals were all they were supposed to be +would be a direct frontal attack on the sacred Index. It would blast a +hole in Baker's conviction that nothing of value could come from the +crackpot fringe. And, not least of all, it would require Baker to issue +a research grant to Clearwater College.</p> + +<p>What else it might do to Baker, Fenwick could only guess, but he felt +certain Bill Baker would never be the same man again.</p> + +<p>As it grew darker, Baker looked up from the microscope through which he +had been peering. He glanced at the windows and the drenched countryside +beyond. "It's been raining," he said.</p> + +<p>Mary Ellerbee had already anticipated that the visitors would be staying +the night. She had the spare room ready for Baker and Fenwick before +dinner. While they ate in the big farmhouse kitchen, Ellerbee explained. +"It would be crazy to try to get down to the highway tonight. The +county's been promising us a new road for five years, but you see what +we've got. Even the oldest citizen wouldn't tackle it in weather like +this, unless it was an emergency. You put up for the night with us. +You'll get home just as fast by leaving in the morning, after the storm +clears. And it will be a lot more pleasant than spending the night stuck +in the mud somewhere—or worse."</p> + +<p>Baker seemed to accept the invitation as he ate without comment. To +Fenwick he appeared stunned by the events of the day, by his inability +to find a hoax in connection with the communicator crystals.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was only when Baker and Fenwick were alone in the upstairs bedroom +that Baker seemed to stir out of his state of shock.</p> + +<p>"This is ridiculous, Fenwick!" he said. "I don't know what I'm doing +here. I can't possibly stay in this place tonight. I've got people to +see this evening, and appointments early in the morning."</p> + +<p>"It's coming down like cats and dogs again," said Fenwick. "You saw the +road coming in. It's a hog wallow by now. Your chance of getting through +would be almost zero."</p> + +<p>"It's a chance I have to take," Baker insisted. He started for the door. +"<i>You</i> don't have to take it, of course."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to!" said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"But I must!"</p> + +<p>Fenwick followed him downstairs, still trying to persuade him of the +foolishness of driving back tonight. When Ellerbee heard of it he seemed +appalled.</p> + +<p>"It's impossible, Dr. Baker! I wouldn't have suggested your not +returning if there were any chance of getting through. I assure you +there isn't."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless I must try. Dr. Fenwick will remain, and I will come back +tomorrow afternoon to complete our investigation. There are important +things I must attend to before then, however."</p> + +<p>Fenwick had the sudden feeling that Baker was in a flight of panic. His +words had an aimless stream-of-consciousness quality that contrasted +sharply with his usually precise speech. Fenwick was certain there was +nothing sufficiently important that it demanded his attention on a night +like this. He could have telephoned his family and had his wife cancel +any appointments.</p> + +<p>No, Fenwick thought, there was nothing Baker had to go <i>to</i>; rather, he +was running <i>from</i>. He was running in panicky fear from his failure to +pin down the hoax in the crystals. He was running, Fenwick thought, from +the fear that there might be no hoax.</p> + +<p>It seemed incredible that such an experience could trigger so strong a +reaction. Yet Fenwick was aware that Baker's attitude toward Ellerbee +and his device was not merely one aspect of Baker's character. His +attitude in these things <i>was</i> his character.</p> + +<p>Fenwick dared not challenge Baker with these thoughts. He knew it would +be like probing Baker's flesh with a hot wire. There was nothing at all +that he could do to stop Baker's flight.</p> + +<p>Ellerbee insisted on loaning him a powerful flashlight and a hand +lantern, which Baker ridiculed but accepted. It was only after Baker's +tail-light had disappeared in the thick mist that Fenwick remembered he +still had the crystal cube in his coat pocket.</p> + +<p>"He's bound to get stuck and spend the night on the road," said +Ellerbee. "He'll be so upset he'll never come back to finish his +investigation."</p> + +<p>Fenwick suspected this was true. Baker would seal off every association +and reminder of the communicator crystals as if they were some infection +that would not heal. "There's no use beating your brains out trying to +get the NBSD to pay attention," Fenwick told Ellerbee. "You've got a +patent. Figure out some gadgety use and start selling the things. You'll +get all the attention you want."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to do it in a dignified way," said Ellerbee regretfully.</p> + +<p><i>You, too</i>, Fenwick thought as he moved back up the stairs to the spare +bedroom.</p> + +<p>Fenwick undressed and got into bed. He tried to read a book he had +borrowed from Ellerbee, but it held no interest for him. He kept +thinking about Baker. What produced a man like Baker? What made him +tick, anyway?</p> + +<p>Fenwick had practically abandoned his earlier determination that +something had to be done about Baker. There was really nothing that +could be done about Baker, Bill Baker in particular—and the host of +assorted Bakers scattered throughout the world in positions of power and +importance, in general.</p> + +<p>They stretched on and on, back through the pages of history and time. +Jim Ellerbee understood the breed. He had quite rightly tagged Baker in +addressing him as "Dear Urban." Pope Urban, who persecuted the great +Galileo, had certainly been one of them.</p> + +<p>It wasn't that Baker was ignorant or stupid. He was neither. Fenwick +gave reluctant respect to his intelligence and his education. Baker was +quick-witted. His head was stuffed full of accurate scientific +information from diversified fields.</p> + +<p>But he refused to be jarred loose from his fixed position that +scientific breakthroughs could come from any source but the Established +Authority. The possibility that the crackpot fringe could produce such a +break-through panicked him. It <i>had</i> panicked him. He was fleeing +dangerously now through the night, driven by a fear he did not know was +in him.</p> + +<p>Inflexibility. This seemed to be the characteristic that marked Baker +and his kind. Defender of the Fixed Position might well have been his +title. With all his might and power, Bill Baker defended the Fixed +Position he had chosen, the Fixed Position behind the wall of +Established Authority.</p> + +<p>A blind spot, perhaps? But it seemed more than mere blindness that kept +Baker so hotly defending his Fixed Position. It seemed as if, somehow, +he was aware of its vulnerability and was determined to fight off any +and all attacks, regardless of consequences.</p> + +<p>Fenwick didn't know. He felt as if it was less than hopeless, however, +to attempt to change Bill Baker. Any change would have to be brought +about by Baker himself. And that, at the moment, seemed far less likely +than the well-known snowball in Hades.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Fenwick knew he must have dozed off to sleep with the light still on in +the room and Ellerbee's unread book opened over his chest. He did not +know what time it was when he awoke. He was aware only of a suffocating +sensation as if some ghostly aura were within the room, filling it, +pressing down upon him. A wailing of agony and despair seemed to scratch +at his senses although he was certain there was no audible sound. And a +depression clutched at his soul as if death itself had suddenly walked +unseen through the closed door.</p> + +<p>Fenwick sat up, shivering in the sudden coolness of the room, but clammy +with sweat over his whole body. He had never experienced such sensations +before in his life. His stomach turned to a hard ball under the flow of +panic that surged through all his nerves.</p> + +<p>He forced himself to sit quietly for a moment, trying to release his +fear-tightened muscles. He relaxed the panic in his stomach and looked +slowly about the room. He could recall no stimulus in his sleep that had +produced such a reaction. He hadn't even been dreaming, as far as he +could tell. There was no recollection of any sound or movement within +the house or outside.</p> + +<p>He was calmer after a moment, but that sensation of death close at hand +would not go away. He would have been unable to describe it if asked, +but it was there. It filled the atmosphere of the room. It seemed to +emanate from—</p> + +<p>Fenwick turned his head about. It was almost as if there was some +definite source from which the ghastly sensation was pouring over him. +The walls—the air of the room—</p> + +<p>His eyes caught the crystal on the table by the bed.</p> + +<p>He could feel the force of death pouring from it.</p> + +<p>His first impulse was to pick up the thing and hurl it as far as he +could. Then in saner desperation he leaped from the bed and threw on his +clothes. He grabbed the crystal in his hand and ran out through the door +and down the stairs.</p> + +<p>Jim Ellerbee was already there in the living room. He was seated by the +old-fashioned library table, his hand outstretched upon it. In his hand +lay the counterpart of the crystal Fenwick carried.</p> + +<p>"Ellerbee!" Fenwick cried. "What's going on? What in Heaven's name is +coming out of these things?"</p> + +<p>"Baker," said Ellerbee. "He smashed up on the road somewhere. He's out +there dying."</p> + +<p>"Can you be sure? Then don't sit there, man! Let's get on our way!"</p> + +<p>Ellerbee shook his head. "He'll be dead before we can get there."</p> + +<p>"How do you know he cracked up, anyway? Can you read that out of the +crystal?"</p> + +<p>Ellerbee nodded. "He kept it in his pocket. It's close enough to him to +transmit the frantic messages of his dying mind."</p> + +<p>"Then we've got to go! No matter if we get there in time or not."</p> + +<p>Ellerbee shook his head again. "Sam is on his way over here. He's in +touch with Baker. He says he thinks he can talk Baker back."</p> + +<p>"<i>Talk</i> him back? What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>Ellerbee hesitated. "I'm not sure. In some ways Sam understands a lot +more about these things than I do. He can do things with the crystals +that I don't understand. If he says he can talk Dr. Baker back, I think +maybe he can."</p> + +<p>"But we can't depend on that!" Fenwick said frantically. "Can't we get +on our way in the car and let Sam do what he thinks he can while we +drive? Maybe he can get Baker to hold on until we get him to a doctor."</p> + +<p>"You don't understand," said Ellerbee. "Dr. Baker has gone over the +edge. He's <i>dying</i>. I know what it's like. I looked into a dying mind +once before. There is nothing whatever that a doctor can do after an +organism starts dying. It's a definite process. Once started, it's +irreversible."</p> + +<p>"Then what does Sam—?"</p> + +<p>"Sam thinks he knows how to reverse it."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There wasn't much pain. Not as much as he would have supposed. He felt +sure there was terrible damage inside. He could feel the warmth of blood +welling up inside his throat. But the pain was not there. That was good.</p> + +<p>In place of pain, there was a kind of infinite satisfaction and a +growing peace. The ultimate magnitude of this peace, which he could +sense, was so great that it loomed like some blinding glory.</p> + +<p>This was death. The commitment and the decision had been made. But this +was better than any alternative. He could not see how there could have +been any question about it.</p> + +<p>He was lying on his back in the wet clay of a bank below the road. It +was raining, softly now, and he rather liked the gentle drop of it on +his face. Somewhere below him the hulk of his wrecked car lay on its +side. He could smell the unpleasant odor of gasoline. But all of this +was less than nothing in importance to him now. Somewhere in the back of +his mind was a remnant of memory of what he had been doing this day. He +remembered the name of John Fenwick, and the memory brought a faint +amusement to his bloody lips. There had been some differences between +him and John Fenwick. Those differences were also less than nothing, +now. All differences were wiped out. He gave himself up to the pleasure +of being borne along on that great current that seemed to be carrying +him swiftly to a quiet place.</p> + +<p>After a time, he remembered two other names, also. James Ellerbee and +Sam Atkins. He remembered a crystal, and it meant nothing. He remembered +that it was in his pocket and that for some time he had felt a warmth +from it, that was both pleasant and unpleasant. It was of no importance. +He might have reached for it and thrown it farther from him, but his arm +on that side was broken.</p> + +<p>He was glad that there was nothing—nothing whatever—that had any +magnitude of importance. Even his family—they were like fragments of a +long-ago dream.</p> + +<p>He lay waiting quietly and patiently for the swiftly approaching +destination of ultimate peace. He did not know how long it would take, +but he knew it could not be long, and even the journey was sweet.</p> + +<p>It was while he waited, letting his mind drift, that he became aware of +the intruder. In that moment, the pain boiled up in shrieking agony.</p> + +<p>He had thought himself alone. He wanted above all else to be alone. But +there was someone with him. He wasn't sure how he knew. He could simply +<i>feel</i> the unwanted presence. He strained to see in the wet darkness. He +listened for muted sounds. There was nothing. Only the presence.</p> + +<p>"Go away!" he whispered hoarsely. "Go away, and leave me alone—whoever +you are."</p> + +<p>"No. Let me take you by the hand, William Baker. I have come to show you +the way back. I have come to lead you back."</p> + +<p>"Leave me alone! Whoever you are, leave me alone!" Baker was conscious +of his own voice screaming in the black night. And it was not only +terror of the unknown presence that made him scream, but the physical +pain of crushed bones and torn flesh was sweeping like a torrent through +him.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid of me. You know me. You remember, we met this +afternoon. Sam Atkins. You remember, Dr. Baker?"</p> + +<p>"I remember." Baker's voice was a painful gasp. "I remember. Now go away +and leave me alone. You can do nothing for me. I don't want you to do +anything for me."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sam Atkins. The crystal. Baker wished he could reach the cursed thing +and hurl it away from him. That must be how Atkins was communicating +with him. Yes, somehow it was possible. He had found no trick, no +gimmick. Somehow, the miserable things worked.</p> + +<p>But what did Sam Atkins want? He had broken in on a moment that was as +private as a dream. There was nothing he could do. Baker was dying. He +knew he was dying. There was no medicine that could heal the battering +his body had taken. He had been slipping away into peace and release of +pain. He had no desire to have it interrupted.</p> + +<p>There was no more evidence of Sam Atkins' presence. It was there—and +Baker wished furiously that Atkins would let his death be a private +thing—but he was not interfering now.</p> + +<p>There was the faint suggestion of other presences, too. Baker thought he +could pick them out, Fenwick and Ellerbee. They were all gathered to +watch him die through the crystals. It was unkind of them to so +intrude—but it didn't really matter very much. He began drifting +pleasantly again.</p> + +<p>"William Baker." The soft voice of Sam Atkins shattered the peaceable +realm once more. "We must do some healing before we start back, Dr. +Baker. Give me your hand, and come with me, Dr. Baker, while we touch +these tissues and heal their breaks. Stay close to me and the pain will +not be more than you can endure."</p> + +<p>The night remained dark and there was no sound, but Baker's body arched +and twisted in panic as he fought against invisible hands that seemed to +touch with fleeting, exploratory passes over him.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be healed," he whispered. "There is nothing that can be +done. I'm dying. I want to die! Can't you understand that? I want to +die! I don't want your help!"</p> + +<p>He had said it. And the shock of it jolted even him in the depths of his +half-conscious mind. Could a man really <i>want</i> to die?</p> + +<p>Yes.</p> + +<p>He had forgotten what terror he had left so far behind. He knew only +that he wanted to move forever in the direction of the flowing peace.</p> + +<p>Like probing fingers, Sam Atkins' mind continued to touch him. It +scanned the broken organs of his body, and, in some kind of detached +way, Baker felt that he was accompanying Atkins on that journey of +exploration, even as Sam had asked.</p> + +<p>They searched the skeleton and found the splintered bones. They examined +the muscle structure and found the torn and shattered tissue. They +searched the dark recesses of his vital organs and came to injury that +Baker knew was hopeless.</p> + +<p>"You built this once," Sam Atkins' voice whispered. "You can build it +again. The materials are all here. The blood stream is still moving. The +nerve tissue will carry your instructions. I'll supply the +scaffolding—while you build—"</p> + +<p>He remembered. Baker examined the long-untouched record of when he had +done this before. He remembered the construction of cells, the building +of organs, the interconnection of nerve tissue. He felt an infinite +sadness at the present ruin. Yes—he could build again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Sam Atkins' face was like that of a dead man. Across the table from him, +Jim Ellerbee and John Fenwick watched silently. Faintly, between them +was the crystal-projected image of Baker's body.</p> + +<p>Fenwick felt the cold touch of some mysterious unknown prickle his +scalp. Sam Atkins seemed remote and alien, like the practitioner of +ancient and forbidden arts. Fenwick found the question tumbling over and +over in his mind, who is this man? He felt as if the very life energy of +Sam Atkins was somehow flowing out through the crystal, across space, to +the distant broken body of Bill Baker and was supporting it while +Baker's own feeble energy was consumed in the rebuilding of his +shattered organs.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Though Fenwick and Ellerbee held their own crystals, Sam had somehow +shut them out. They were in faint contact with Baker, but they could not +follow the fierce contact that Sam's mind held with him.</p> + +<p>Ellerbee's face showed worry and a trace of panic. He hesitantly reached +out to touch the immobile figure of Sam Atkins, who sat with closed eyes +and imperceptible breath. Fenwick sensed disaster. He arrested the +motion of Ellerbee's hand.</p> + +<p>"I think you could kill them both," he whispered. The life force of one +man, divided between two—it was not sufficient to cope with unexpected +shocks to either, now.</p> + +<p>Ellerbee desisted. "I've never seen anything like this before," he said. +"I don't know what Sam's doing—I don't know how he's doing it—"</p> + +<p>Fenwick looked sharply at Ellerbee. Ellerbee had discovered the +crystals, so he and Sam said. Yet Sam was able to do things with them +that Ellerbee could not conceive. Fenwick wondered just who was +responsible for the crystals. And he resolved that some day, when and if +Baker pulled out of this, he would learn something more about Sam +Atkins.</p> + +<p>Time moved beyond midnight and into the early morning hours of the day, +but this meant nothing to William Baker. He was in the midst of +eternity. Because the old pattern was there, and the ancient memories +were clear, his reconstruction moved at a pace that was limited only by +the materials available. When these grew scarce, Sam Atkins showed him +how to break down and utilize other structures that could be rebuilt +leisurely at a later time. There was remembered joy in the building and, +once started, Baker gave only idle wonder to the question of whether +this was more desirable than death. He did not know. This seemed the +right thing to do.</p> + +<p>In the presence of Sam Atkins everything he was doing seemed right, and +a lifetime of doubts, and errors, and fears seemed distant and vague.</p> + +<p>But Sam said suddenly, "It is almost finished. Just a little farther and +you'll have to go the rest of the way alone."</p> + +<p>Terror struck at Baker. He had reached a point where he was absolutely +sure he could <i>not</i> go on alone without Sam's supporting presence. "You +tricked me!" Baker cried. "You tricked me! You didn't tell me I would +have to be reborn alone!"</p> + +<p>"Doesn't every man?" said Sam. "Is there any way to be born, except +alone?"</p> + +<p>Slowly, the world closed in about Baker.</p> + +<p>Light. Sounds.</p> + +<p>Wet. Cold.</p> + +<p>The impact of a million idiot minds. The coursing of cosmic-ray +particles. The wrenching of Earth's magnetic and gravitational fields. +Old and sluggish memories were renewed, memories meant to be buried for +all of his life.</p> + +<p>Baker felt as if he were suddenly running down a dark and immense +corridor. Behind were all the terrors spawned since the beginning of +time. Ahead were a thousand openings of light and safety. He raced for +the nearest and brightest and most familiar.</p> + +<p>"No," said Sam Atkins. "You cannot go that way again. It is the way you +went before—and it led to this—to a search for death. For you, it will +lead only to the same goal again."</p> + +<p>"I can't go on!" Baker cried. The terrors seemed to be swiftly closing +in.</p> + +<p>"Take my hand a moment longer," said Sam. "Inspect these more distant +paths. There are many of them that will be agreeable to you."</p> + +<p>Baker felt calmer now in the renewed presence of Sam Atkins. He passed +the branching pathway that Sam had forbidden, that had seemed so bright. +He sensed now why Sam had cautioned him against it. Far down, in the +depths of it, he glimpsed faintly a dark ugliness that he had not seen +before. He shuddered.</p> + +<p>Directly ahead there seemed to be the opening of a corridor of blazing +brightness. Baker's calmness increased as he approached. "This one," he +said.</p> + +<p>He heard nothing, but he sensed Sam Atkins' smile, and nod of approval.</p> + +<p>He remembered now for the first time why he had wanted to die. It was to +avoid the very terrors by which he had been pursued through the dark +corridor. All this had happened before, and he had gone down the pathway +Sam had forbidden. Somehow, like a circle, it had come back to this very +point, to this forgotten experience for which he had been willing to die +rather than endure again.</p> + +<p>It was very bewildering. He did not understand the meaning of it. But he +knew he had corrected a former error. He was back in the world. He was +alive again.</p> + +<p>Sam Atkins looked up at his companions through eyes that seemed all but +dead. "He's going to make it," he said. "We can get the car out and pick +up Baker now."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>They used Sam's panel truck, which had a four-wheel drive and mud tires. +Nothing else could possibly get through. Fenwick left his own car at +Ellerbee's.</p> + +<p>It was still raining lightly as the truck sloshed and slewed through the +muck that was hardly recognizable now as a road. For an hour Sam fought +the wheel to hold the car approximately in the middle of the brownish +ooze that led them through the night. The three men sat in the cab. +Behind them, a litter and first-aid equipment had been rigged for Baker. +Sam told them nothing would be needed except soap and water, but Fenwick +and Ellerbee felt it impossible to go off without some other emergency +equipment.</p> + +<p>After an hour, Sam said, "He's close. Just around the next bend. That's +where his car went off."</p> + +<p>Baker loomed suddenly in the lights of the car. He was standing at the +edge of the road. He waved an arm wearily.</p> + +<p>Fenwick would not have recognized him. And for some seconds after the +car had come to a halt, and Baker stood weaving uncertainly in the beam +of the lights, Fenwick was not sure it was Baker at all.</p> + +<p>He looked like something out of an old Frankenstein movie. His clothes +were ripped almost completely away. Those remaining were stained with +blood and red clay, and soaked with rain. Baker's face was laced with a +network of scars as if he had been slashed with a shower of glass not +too long ago and the wounds were freshly healed. Blood was caked and +cracked on his face and was matted in his hair.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus5.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He smiled grotesquely as he staggered toward the car door. "About time +you got here," he said. "A man could catch his death of cold standing +out here in this weather."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dr. William Baker was quite sure he had no need of hospitalization, but +he let them settle him in a hospital bed anyway. He had some thinking to +do, and he didn't know of a better place to get it done.</p> + +<p>There was a good deal of medical speculation about the vast network of +very fresh scars on his body, the bones which X rays showed to have been +only very recently knit, and the violent internal injuries which gave +some evidence of their recent healing. Baker allowed the speculation to +go on without offering explanations. He let them tap and measure and +apply electrical gadgets to their heart's content. It didn't bother the +thinking he had to get done.</p> + +<p>Fenwick and Ellerbee came back the next day to see him. The two +approached the bed so warily that Baker burst out laughing. "Pull up +chairs!" he exclaimed. "Just because you saw me looking a shade less +than dead doesn't mean I'm a ghost now. Sit down. And where's Sam? Not +that I don't appreciate seeing your ugly faces, but Sam and I have got +some things to talk about."</p> + +<p>Ellerbee and Fenwick looked at each other as if each expected the other +to speak.</p> + +<p>"Well, what's the matter?" demanded Baker. "Nothing's happened to Sam, I +hope!"</p> + +<p>Fenwick spoke finally. "We don't know where Sam is. We don't think we'll +be seeing him again."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Baker demanded. But in the back of his mind was the growing +suspicion that he knew.</p> + +<p>"After your—accident," said Fenwick, "I went back to the farm with +Ellerbee and Sam because I'd left my car there. I went back to bed to +try to get some more shut-eye, but the storm had started up again and +kept me awake. Just before dawn a terrific bolt of lightning seemed to +strike Sam's silo. Later, Jim went out to check on his cows and help his +man finish up the milking.</p> + +<p>"By mid-morning we hadn't heard anything from Sam and decided to go over +and talk to him about what we'd seen him do for you. I guess it was +eleven by the time we got there."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus6.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3> ... <i>Lightning doesn't strike up from inside a silo! +That's something else</i> ...</h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Jim Ellerbee nodded agreement.</p> + +<p>"When we got there," Fenwick went on, "we saw that the front door of the +house was open as if the storm had blown it in. We called Sam, but he +didn't answer, so we went on in. Things were a mess. We thought it was +because of the storm, but then we saw that drawers and shelves seemed to +have been opened hastily and cleaned out. Some things had been dropped +on the floor, but most of the stuff was just gone.</p> + +<p>"It was that way all through the house. Sam's bed hadn't been disturbed. +He had either not slept in it, or had gone to the trouble of making it +up even though he left the rest of the house in a mess."</p> + +<p>"Sounds like the place might have been broken into," said Baker. "Didn't +you notify the sheriff?"</p> + +<p>"Not after we'd seen what was outside, in back."</p> + +<p>"What was that?"</p> + +<p>"We wanted to see the silo after the lightning had struck it. Jim said +he'd always been curious about that silo. It was one of the best in the +county, but Sam never used it. He used a pit.</p> + +<p>"When we went out, all the cows were bellowing. They hadn't been milked. +Sam did all his own work. Jim called his own man to come and take care +of Sam's cows. Then we had a close look at the silo. It had split like a +banana peel opening up. It hardly seemed as if a bolt of lightning could +have caused it. We climbed over the broken pieces to look inside. It was +still warm in there. At least six hours after lightning—or whatever had +struck it, the concrete was still warm. The bottom and several feet of +the sides of the silo were covered with a glassy glaze."</p> + +<p>"No lightning bolt did that."</p> + +<p>"We know that now," said Fenwick. "But I had seen the flash of it +myself. Then I remembered that in my groggy condition that morning +something had seemed wrong about that flash of lightning. Instead of a +jagged tree of lightning that formed instantly, it had seemed like a +thin thread of light striking <i>upward</i>. I thought I must be getting +bleary-eyed and tried to forget it. In the silo, I remembered. I told +Jim.</p> + +<p>"We went back through the house once more. In Sam's bedroom, as if +accidently dropped and kicked partway under the bed, I found this. Take +a look!"</p> + +<p>Fenwick held out a small book. It had covers and pages as did any +ordinary book. But when Baker's fingers touched the book, something +chilled his backbone.</p> + +<p>The material had the feel and appearance of white leather—yet Baker had +the insane impression that the cells of that leather still formed a +living substance. He opened the pages. Their substance was as foreign as +that of the cover. The message—printing, or whatever it might be +called—consisted of patterned rows of dots, pin-head size, in color. It +reminded him of computer tape cut to some character code. He had the +impression that an eye might scan those pages and react as swiftly as a +tape-fed computer.</p> + +<p>Baker closed the book. "Nothing more?" he asked Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. We thought maybe you had found out something else when he +worked to save your life."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker kept his eyes on the ceiling. "I found out a few things," he said. +"I could scarcely believe they were true. I have to believe after +hearing your story."</p> + +<p>"What did you find?"</p> + +<p>"Sam Atkins came from—somewhere else. He went back in the ship he had +hidden in the silo."</p> + +<p>"Where did he come from? What was he doing here?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know the name of the world he was from or where it is located. +Somewhere in this galaxy, is about all I can deduce from my impressions. +He was here on a scientific mission, a sociological study. He was +responsible for the crystals. I suppose you know that by now?" Baker +glanced at Ellerbee.</p> + +<p>Jim Ellerbee nodded. "I suspected for a long time that I was being led, +but I couldn't understand it. I thought I was doing the research that +produced the crystals, but Sam would drop a hint or a suggestion every +once in a while, that would lead off on the right track and produce +something fantastic. He knew where we were going, ahead of time. He led +me to believe that we were exploring together. Do you know why he did +this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Baker. "It was part of his project. The project consisted of +a study of human reaction to scientific processes which our scientific +culture considered impossible. He was interested in measuring our +flexibility and reaction to such introductions."</p> + +<p>Baker smiled grimly. "We sure gave him his money's worth, didn't we! We +really reacted when he brought out his little cubes. I'd like to read +the report he writes up!"</p> + +<p>"Why did he leave so suddenly?" asked Fenwick. "Was he through?"</p> + +<p>"No, that's the bad part of it. My reaction to the crystals was a shock +that sent me into a suicidal action—"</p> + +<p>Fenwick stared at him, shocked. "You didn't—"</p> + +<p>"But I did," said Baker calmly. "All very subconsciously, of course, but +I did try to commit suicide. The crystals triggered it. I'll explain how +in a minute, but since Sam Atkins was an ethical being he felt the +responsibility for what had happened to me. He had to reveal himself to +the extent of saving my life—and helping me to change so that the +suicidal drive would not appear again. He did this, but it revealed too +much of himself and destroyed the chance of completing his program. When +he gets back home, he's really going to catch hell for lousing up the +works. It's too bad."</p> + +<p>Jim Ellerbee let out a long breath. "Sam Atkins—somebody from another +world—it doesn't seem possible. What things he could have taught us if +he'd stayed!"</p> + +<p>Fenwick wondered why it had to have been Baker to receive this +knowledge. Baker, the High Priest of the Fixed Position, the ambassador +of Established Authority. Why couldn't Sam Atkins—or whatever his real +name might be—have whispered just a few words of light to a man willing +to listen and profit? His bowels felt sick with the impact of +opportunity forever lost.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"How did the crystals trigger a suicidal reaction?" asked Fenwick +finally, as if to make conversation more than anything else.</p> + +<p>Baker's face seemed to glow. "That's the really important thing I +learned from Sam. I learned that about me—about all of us. It's hard to +explain. I experienced it—but you can only hear about it."</p> + +<p>"We're listening," said Fenwick dully.</p> + +<p>"I saw a picture of a lathe in a magazine a few months ago," said Baker +slowly. "You can buy one of these lathes for $174,000, if you want one. +It's a pretty fancy job. The lathe remembers what it does once, and +afterwards can do it again without any instructions.</p> + +<p>"The lathe has a magnetic tape memory. The operator cuts the first piece +on the lathe, and the tape records all the operations necessary for that +production. After that, the operator needs only to insert the metal +stock and press the start button.</p> + +<p>"There could be a million memories in storage, and the lathe could draw +on any one of them to repeat what it had done before at any time in its +history."</p> + +<p>"I don't see what this has got to do with Sam and you," said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>Baker ignored him. "A long time ago a bit of life came into existence. +It had no memory, because it was the first. But it faced the universe +and made decisions. That's the difference between life and nonlife. Did +you know that, Fenwick? The capacity to make decisions without +pre-programming. The lathe is not alive because it must be +pre-programmed by the operator. We used to say that reproduction was the +criterion of life, but the lathe could be pre-programmed to build a +duplicate of itself, complete with existing memories, if that were +desired, but that would not make it a living thing.</p> + +<p>"Spontaneous decision. A single cell can make a simple binary choice. +Maybe nothing more complex than to be or not to be. The decision may be +conditioned by lethal circumstances that permit only a 'not' decision. +Nevertheless, a decision <i>is</i> made, and the cell shuts down its life +processes in the very instant of death. They are not shut down for it.</p> + +<p>"In the beginning, the first bit of life faced the world and made +decisions, and memory came into being. The structures of giant protein +molecules shifted slightly in those first cells and became a memory of +decisions and encounters. The cells split and became new pairs carrying +in each part giant patterned molecules of the same structure. These were +memory tapes that grew and divided and spread among all life until they +carried un-numbered billions of memories.</p> + +<p>"Molecular tapes. Genes. The memory of life on earth, since the +beginning. Each new piece of life that springs from parent life comes +equipped with vast libraries of molecular tapes recording the +experiences of life since the beginning.</p> + +<p>"Life forms as complex as mammals could not exist without this tape +library to draw upon. The bodily mechanisms could not function if they +came into existence without the taped memories out of the ages, +explaining why each organ was developed and how it should function. +Sometimes, part of the tapes <i>are</i> missing, and the organism, if it +endures, must live without instructions for some function. One human +lifetime is too infinitesimally small to relearn procedures that have +taken aeons to develop.</p> + +<p>"Just as the lathe operator has a choice of tapes which will cause the +lathe to function in different ways, so does new life have a choice. The +accumulated instructions and wisdom of the whole race may be available, +except for those tapes which have been lost or destroyed through the +ages. New life has a choice from that vast library of tapes. In its +inexperience, it relies on the parentage for the selection of many +proven combinations, and so we conclude certain characteristics are +'dominant' or 'inherited,' but we haven't been able to discover the +slightest reason why this is so.</p> + +<p>"A selection of things other than color of eyes, the height of growth to +be attained, the shape of the body must also be made. A choice of modes +of facing the exterior world, a choice of stratagems to be used in +attaining survival and security in that world, must be made.</p> + +<p>"And there is one other important factor: Mammalian life is created in a +universe where only life exists. The mammal in the womb does not know of +the existence of the external universe. Somewhere, sometime, the first +awareness of this external universe arises. In the womb. Outside the +womb. Early in fetal life, or late. When and where this awareness comes +is an individual matter. But when it comes, it arrives with lethal +impact.</p> + +<p>"Awareness brings a million sensory invasions—chemical, physical, +extrasensory—none of them understood, all of them terrifying.</p> + +<p>"This terrible fear that arises in this moment of awareness and +non-understanding is almost sufficient to cause a choice of death rather +than life at this point. Only because of the developed toughness, +acquired through the aeons, does the majority of mammalian life choose +to continue.</p> + +<p>"In this moment, choices must be made as to how to cope with the +external world, how to understand it so as to diminish the fear it +inspires. The library of genetic tapes is full of possible solutions. +Parental experience is examined, too, and the very sensory impacts that +are the source of the terror are inspected to a greater or lesser extent +to see how they align with taped information.</p> + +<p>"A very basic choice is then made. It may not be a single decision, but, +rather, a system of decisions all based on some fundamental underlying +principle. And the choice may not be made in an instant. How long a time +it may occupy I do not know.</p> + +<p>"When the decision has been made, reaction between the individual and +the external universe begins and understanding begins to flow into the +data storage banks. As data are stored, and successful solutions found +in the encounter with the world, fear diminishes. Some kind of +equilibrium is eventually reached, in which the organism decides how +much fear it is willing to tolerate to venture farther into areas of the +unknown, and how much it is willing to limit its experience because of +this fear.</p> + +<p>"When the decision has been made, and the point of equilibrium chosen, a +personality exists. The individual has shaped himself to face the world.</p> + +<p>"And nothing short of a Heavenly miracle will ever change that shape!"</p> + +<p>"You have said nothing about how the crystal caused you to attempt +suicide," said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"The crystal invalidated the molecular tape I had chosen to provide my +foundation program for living. The tape was completely shattered, +brought to an end. There was nothing left for me to go on."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Wait a minute!" said Fenwick. "Even supposing this could happen as you +describe it, other programs could be selected out of the great number +you have described."</p> + +<p>"Quite true. But do you know what happens to an adult human being when +the program on which his entire life is patterned is destroyed?"</p> + +<p>Fenwick shook his head. "What is it like?"</p> + +<p>"It's like it was in the beginning, in that moment of first awareness of +the external universe. He is aware of the universe, but has no +understanding of it. Previous understanding—or what he thought was +understanding—has been invalidated, destroyed. The drive to keep +living, that was present in that first moment of awareness, has +weakened. The strongest impulse is to escape the terror that follows +awareness without understanding. Death is the quickest escape.</p> + +<p>"This is why men are inflexible. This is why the Urbans cannot endure +the Galileos. This is why the Bill Bakers cannot face the Jim Ellerbees. +That was what Sam Atkins wanted to find out.</p> + +<p>"If a man should decide his basic program is invalid and decide to +choose another, he would have to face again the terror of awareness of a +world in which understanding does not exist. He would have to return to +that moment of first awareness and select a new program in that moment +of overwhelming fear. Men are not willing to do this. They prefer a +program—a personality—that is defective, that functions with only a +fraction of the efficiency it might have. They prefer this to a basic +change of programs. Only when a program is rendered absolutely +invalid—as mine was by the crystal communicator—is the program +abandoned. When that happens, the average man drives his car into a +telephone pole or a bridge abutment, or he steps in front of a truck at +a street intersection. I drove into a gully in a storm."</p> + +<p>"All this would imply that the tape library is loaded with genetic +programs that contain basic defects!" said Fenwick.</p> + +<p>Baker hesitated. "That's not quite true," he said finally. "The library +of molecular tapes does contain a great many false solutions. But they +are false not so much because they are defective as because they are +obsolete. All of them worked at one time, under some set of +circumstances, however briefly. Those times and circumstances may have +vanished long since."</p> + +<p>"Then why are they chosen? Why aren't they simply passed over?"</p> + +<p>"Because the individual organism lacks adequate data for evaluating the +available programs. In addition, information may be presented to him +which says these obsolete programs are just the ones to use."</p> + +<p>Fenwick leaned against the bed and shook his head. "How could a crazy +thing like that come about?"</p> + +<p>"Cultures become diseased," said Baker. "Sparta was such a one in +ancient times. A more psychotic culture has scarcely existed anywhere, +yet Sparta prevailed for generations. Ancient Rome is another example. +The Age of Chivalry. Each of these cultures was afflicted with a +different disease.</p> + +<p>"These diseases are epidemic. Individuals are infected before they +emerge from the womb. In the Age of Chivalry this cultural disease held +out the data that the best life program was based on the concept of +Honor. Honor that could be challenged by a mistaken glance, an +accidental touch in a crowd. Honor that had to be defended at the +expense of life itself.</p> + +<p>"Pure insanity. Yet how long did it persist?"</p> + +<p>"And our culture?" said Fenwick. "There is such a sickness in our +times?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker nodded. "There's a disease in our times. A cultural disease you +might call the Great Gray Plague. It is a disease which premises that +safety, security, and effectiveness in dealing with the world may be +obtained by agreement with the highest existing Authority.</p> + +<p>"This premise was valid in the days when disobedience to the Head Man +meant getting lost in a bog or eaten by a saber-toothed tiger. Today it +is more than obsolete. It is among the most vicious sicknesses that have +ever infected any culture."</p> + +<p>"And you were sick with it."</p> + +<p>"I was sick with it. You remember I said a molecular program is chosen +partly on the basis of data presented by parental sources and the spears +of invasion from the external world. This data that came to me from both +sources said that I could deal with the world by yielding to Authority, +by surrounding myself with it as with a shell. It would protect me. I +would have stature. My world-problems would be solved if I chose this +pattern.</p> + +<p>"I chose it well. In our culture there are two areas of Authority, one +in government, one in science. I covered myself both ways. I became a +Government Science Administrator. You just don't get any more +authoritative than that in our day and time!"</p> + +<p>"But not everyone employs this as a basic premise!" exclaimed Fenwick.</p> + +<p>"No—not everyone, fortunately. In that, may be our salvation. In all +times there have been a few infected individuals—Pope Urban, for +example. But in his time the culture was throwing off such ills and was +surging forward under the impetus of men like Galileo.</p> + +<p>"In our own time we are on the other end of the stick. We are just +beginning to sink into this plague; it has existed in epidemic form only +a few short decades. But look how it has spread! Our civil institutions, +always weak to such infection, have almost completely succumbed. Our +educational centers are equally sick. Approach them with a new idea and +no Ph. D. and see what happens. Remember the Greek elevator engineer who +did that a few years ago? He battered his way in by sheer force. It was +the only way. He became a nuclear scientist. But for every one of his +kind a thousand others are defeated by the Plague."</p> + +<p>Fenwick was grinning broadly. He suddenly laughed aloud. "You must be +crazy in the head, Bill. You sound just like me!"</p> + +<p>Baker smiled faintly. "You are one of the lucky ones. You and Jim. It +hasn't hit you. And there are plenty of others like you. But they are +defeated by the powerful ones in authority, who have been infected.</p> + +<p>"It's less than fifty years since it hit us. It may have five hundred +years to run. I think we'll be wiped out by it before then. There must +be something that can be done, some way to stamp it out."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Fenwick. "You could give Clearwater enough to get us on our +feet and running. That would be a start in the right direction."</p> + +<p>"An excellent start," said Baker. "The only trouble is you asked for +less than half of what you need. As soon as I get back to the office a +grant for what you need will be on its way."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>William Baker stayed in the hospital two more days. Apart from his +family, he asked that no visitors be admitted. He felt as if he were a +new-born infant, facing the world with the knowledge of a man—but +innocent of experience.</p> + +<p>He remembered the days before the accident. He remembered how he dealt +with the world in those days. But the methods used then were as +impossible to him now as if he were paralyzed. The new methods, found in +that bright portal to which Sam Atkins had helped guide him, were +untried. He knew they were right. But he had never used them.</p> + +<p>He found it difficult to define the postulates he had chosen. The more +he struggled to identify them, the more elusive they seemed to become. +When he gave up the struggle he found the answer. He had chosen a +program that held no fixed postulates. It was based on a decision to +face the world as it came.</p> + +<p>He was not entirely sure what this meant. The age-old genetic wisdom was +still available to guide him. But he was committed to no set path. Fresh +decisions would be required at every turn.</p> + +<p>A single shot of vaccine could not stem an epidemic. His immunity to the +sickness of his culture could not immunize the entire populace. Yet, he +felt there was something he could do. He was just not sure what it was.</p> + +<p>What could a single man do? In other times, a lone man had been enough +to overturn an age. But William Baker did not feel such heroic +confidence in his own capacity.</p> + +<p>He was not alone, however. There were the John Fenwicks and the Jim +Ellerbees who were immune to the great Plague. It was just that William +Baker was probably the only man in the world who had ever been infected +so completely and then rendered immune. That gave him a look at both +sides of the fence, which was an advantage no one else shared.</p> + +<p>There was something that stuck in his mind, something that Sam Atkins +had said that night when Baker had been reborn. He couldn't understand +it. Sam Atkins had said of the molecular program tape that had been +broken: When you cease to be fearful of Authority, you become Authority.</p> + +<p>The last thing in the whole world William Baker wanted now was to be +Authority. But the thought would not leave his mind. Sam Atkins did not +say things that had no meaning.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker's return to the office of NBSD was an occasion for outpouring of +the professional affection which his staff had always tendered him. He +knew that there had been a time when this had given him a great deal of +satisfaction. He remembered that fiftieth birthday party.</p> + +<p>Looking back, it seemed as if all that must have happened to some other +man. He felt like a double of himself, taking over positions and +prerogatives in which he was a complete impostor.</p> + +<p>This was going to be harder than he had anticipated, he thought.</p> + +<p>Pehrson especially, it appeared, was going to be difficult. The +administrative assistant came into the office almost as soon as Baker +was seated at his desk. "It's very good to have you back," said Pehrson. +"I think we've managed to keep things running while you've been gone, +however. We have rejected approximately one hundred applications during +the past week."</p> + +<p>Baker grunted. "And how many have you approved?"</p> + +<p>"Approval would have had to await your signature, of course."</p> + +<p>"O.K., how many are awaiting my signature?"</p> + +<p>"It has been impossible to find a single one which had a high enough +Index to warrant your consideration."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Baker. "So you've taken care of the usual routine without +any help from me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Pehrson.</p> + +<p>"There's one grant left over from before I was absent. We must get that +out of the way as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p>"I don't recall any that were pending—" said Pehrson in apology.</p> + +<p>"Clearwater College. Get me the file, will you?"</p> + +<p>Pehrson didn't know for sure whether the chief was joking or not. He +looked completely serious. Pehrson felt sick at the sudden thought that +the accident may have so injured the chief's mind that he was actually +serious.</p> + +<p>He sparred. "The Clearwater College file?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I said. Bring a set of approval forms, too."</p> + +<p>Pehrson managed to get out with a placid mask on his face, but it broke +as soon as he reached the safety of his own office. It wasn't possible +that Baker was serious! The check that went out that afternoon convinced +him it was so.</p> + +<p>When Pehrson left the office, Baker got up and sauntered to the window, +looking out over the smoke-gray buildings of Washington. The Index, he +smiled, remembering it. Five years he and Pehrson had worked on that. It +had seemed like quite a monumental achievement when they considered it +finished. It had never been really finished, of course. Continuous +additions and modifications were being made. But they had been very +proud of it.</p> + +<p>Baker wondered now, however, if they had not been very shortsighted in +their application of the Index. He sensed, stirring in the back of his +mind, not fully defined, possibilities that had never appeared to him +before.</p> + +<p>His speculations were interrupted by Doris. She spoke on the interphone, +still in the sweetly sympathetic tone she had adopted for her greetings +that morning. Baker suspected this would last at least a full week.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Dr. Wily is on the phone. He would like to know if you'd mind his +coming in this afternoon. Shall I make an appointment or would you +rather postpone these interviews for a few days? Dr. Wily would +understand, of course."</p> + +<p>"Tell him to come on up whenever he's ready," said Baker. "I'm not doing +much today."</p> + +<p>President George H. Wily, Ph. D., D.Sc., of Great Eastern University. +Wily was one of his best customers.</p> + +<p>Baker guessed that he had given Wily somewhere around twelve or thirteen +million dollars over the past decade. He didn't know exactly what Wily +had done with all of it, but one didn't question Great Eastern's use of +its funds. Certainly only the most benevolent use would be made of the +money.</p> + +<p>Baker reflected on his associations with Wily. His satisfaction had been +unmeasurable in those exquisite moments when he had had the pleasure of +handing Wily a check for two or three million dollars at a time. In +turn, Wily had invited him to the great, commemorative banquets of Great +Eastern. He had presented Baker to the Alumni and extolled the +magnificent work Baker was doing in the advancement of the cause of +Science. It had been a very pleasant association for both of them.</p> + +<p>The door opened and Doris ushered Wily into the room. He came forward +with outstretched hands. "My dear Baker! Your secretary said you had no +objection to my coming up immediately, so I took advantage of it. I +didn't hear about your terrible accident until yesterday. It's so good +to know that you were not more seriously hurt."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Baker. "It wasn't very bad. Come and sit down."</p> + +<p>Wily was a rather large, beetle-shaped man. He affected a small, graying +beard that sometimes had tobacco ashes in it.</p> + +<p>"Terrible loss to the cause of Science if your accident had been more +serious," Wily was saying. "I don't know of anyone who occupies a more +critical position in our nation's scientific advance than you do."</p> + +<p>This was what had made him feel safe, secure, able to cope with the +problems of the world, Baker reflected. Wily represented Authority, the +highest possible Authority in the existing scientific culture.</p> + +<p>But it had worked both ways, too. Baker had supplied a similar +counterpart for Wily. His degrees matched Wily's own. He represented +both Science and Government. The gift of a million dollars expressed +confidence on the part of the Government that Wily was on the right +track, that his activity was approved.</p> + +<p>A sort of mutual admiration society, Baker thought.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are interested in the progress on your application for +renewal of Great Eastern's grants," said Baker.</p> + +<p>Wily waved the subject away with an emphatic gesture. "Not business +today! I simply dropped in for a friendly chat after learning of your +accident. Of course, if there is something to report, I wouldn't mind +hearing it. I presume, however, the processing is following the usual +routine."</p> + +<p>"Not quite," said Baker slowly. "An increasing flood of applications is +coming in, and I'm finding it necessary to adopt new processing methods +to cope with the problem."</p> + +<p>"I can understand that," said Wily. "And one of the things I have always +admired most about your office is your ability to prevent wastage of +funds by nonqualified people. Qualifications in the scientific world are +becoming tighter every day. You have no idea how difficult it is to get +people with adequate backgrounds today. Men of stature and authority +seem to be getting rarer all the time. At any rate, I'm sure we are +agreed that only the intellectual elite must be given access to these +funds of your Bureau, which are limited at best."</p> + +<p>Baker continued to regard Wily across the desk for a long moment. Wily +was one of them, he thought. One of the most heavily infected of all. +Surround yourself with Authority. Fold it about you like a shell. Never +step beyond the boundaries set by Authority. This was George H. Wily, +President of Great Eastern University. This was a man stricken by the +Great Gray Plague.</p> + +<p>"I need a report," said Baker. "For our new program of screening I need +a report of past performance under our grants. The last two years would +be sufficient, I think, from Great Eastern."</p> + +<p>Wily was disturbed. He frowned and hesitated. "I'm sure we could supply +such a report," he said finally. "There's never been any question—"</p> + +<p>"No question at all," said Baker. "I just need to tally up the +achievements made under recent grants. I shall also require some new +information for the Index. I'll send forms as soon as they're ready."</p> + +<p>"We'll be more than glad to co-operate," said Wily. "It's just that +concrete achievement in a research program is sometimes hard to pin +point, you know. So many intangibles."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Baker.</p> + +<p>When Wily was gone, Baker continued sitting at his desk for a long time. +He wished fervently that he could talk with Sam Atkins for just five +minutes now. And he hoped Sam hadn't gotten too blistered by his mentors +when he returned home after fluffing the inquiry he was sent out on.</p> + +<p>There was no chance, of course, that Baker would ever be able to talk +with Sam again. That one fortuitous encounter would have to do for a +lifetime. But Sam's great cryptic statement was slowly beginning to make +sense: When you cease to be fearful of Authority, you become Authority.</p> + +<p>Neither Baker or Wily, or any of the members of Wily's lock-step staff +were Authority. Rather, they all gave obeisance to the intangible +Authority of Science, and stood together as self-appointed vicars of +that Authority, demanding penance for the slightest blasphemy against +it. And each one stood in living terror of such censure.</p> + +<p>The same ghost haunted the halls of Government. The smallest civil +servant, in his meanest incivility, could invoke the same reverence for +that unseen mantle of Authority that rested, however falsely, on his +thin shoulders.</p> + +<p>The ghost existed in but one place, the minds of the victims of the +Plague. William Baker had ceased to recognize or give obeisance to it. +He was beginning to understand the meaning of Sam Atkins' words.</p> + +<p>He was quite sure the grants to Great Eastern were going to diminish +severely.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Within six months, the output from Clearwater College was phenomenal. +The only string that Baker had attached to his grants was the provision +that the National Bureau of Scientific Development be granted the +privilege of announcing all new inventions, discoveries, and significant +reports. This worked to the advantage of both parties. It gave the +college the prestige of association in the press with the powerful +Government agency, and it gave Baker the association with a prominent +scientific discovery.</p> + +<p>During the first month of operation under the grant, Fenwick appointed a +half dozen "uneducated" professors to his physical science staff. These +were located with Baker's help because they had previously applied to +NBSD for assistance.</p> + +<p>The announcement of the developments of the projects of these men was a +kind of unearned windfall for both Baker and Fenwick because most of the +work had already been done in garages and basements. But no one objected +that it gave both Clearwater and NBSD a substantial boost in the public +consciousness.</p> + +<p>During this period, Baker found three other small colleges of almost +equal caliber with Clearwater. He made substantial grants to all of them +and watched their staffs grow in number and quality of background that +would have shocked George Wily into apoplexy. Baker's announcements of +substantial scientific gains became the subject of weekly press +conferences.</p> + +<p>And also, during this time, he lowered the ax on Great Eastern and two +other giants whose applications were pending. He cut them to twenty per +cent of what they were asking. A dozen of the largest industrial firms +were accorded similar treatment.</p> + +<p>Through all this, Pehrson moved like a man in a nightmare. His first +impulse had been to resign. His second was to report the gross +mismanagement of NBSD to some appropriate congressman. Before he did +either of these things the reports began to come in from Clearwater and +other obscure points.</p> + +<p>Pehrson was a man in whom allegiance was easily swayed. His loyalty was +only for the top man of any hierarchy, and he suddenly began to regard +Baker with an amazed incredulity. It seemed akin to witchcraft to be +able to pull out works of near genius from the dross material Baker had +been supporting with his grants. Pehrson wasn't quite sure how it had +been done although he had been present throughout the whole process. He +only knew that Baker had developed a kind of prescience that was nothing +short of miraculous, and from now on he was strictly a Baker man.</p> + +<p>Baker was happy with this outcome. The problem of Pehrson had been a +bothersome one. Civil Service regulations forbade his displacement. +Baker had been undecided how to deal with him. With Pehrson's acceptance +of the new methods, the entire staff swung behind Baker, and the +previous grumblings and complaints finally ceased. He stood on top in +his own office, at least, Baker reflected.</p> + +<p>George H. Wily was not happy, however. He waited two full days after +receiving the announcement of NBSD's grant for the coming year. He +consulted with his Board of Regents and then took a night plane down to +Washington to see Baker.</p> + +<p>He was coldly formal as he entered Baker's office. Baker shook his hand +warmly and invited him to sit down.</p> + +<p>"I was hoping you'd drop in again when you came to town," said Baker. "I +was sorry we had to ask you for so much new information, but I +appreciate your prompt response."</p> + +<p>Wily's eyes were frosty. "Is that why you gave us only two hundred +thousand?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Baker spread his hands. "I explained when you were here last that we +were getting a flood of applications. We have been forced to distribute +the money much more broadly than in other years. There is only so much +to go around, you know."</p> + +<p>"There is just as much as you've ever had," snapped Wily. "I've checked +on your overall appropriation. And there is no increase in qualified +applicants. There is a decrease, if anything.</p> + +<p>"I've done a little checking on the grants you've made, Baker. I'd like +to see you defend your appropriation for that miserable little school +called Clearwater College. I made a detailed study of their staff. They +haven't a single qualified man. Not one with a background any better +than that of your elevator operator!"</p> + +<p>Baker looked up at the ceiling. "I remember an elevator man who became +quite a first rate scientist."</p> + +<p>Wily glared, waiting for explanation, then snorted. "Oh, <i>him</i>—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>him</i>," said Baker.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't explain your wasting of Government funds on such an +institution as Clearwater. It doesn't explain your grants to—"</p> + +<p>"Let me show you what does explain my grants," said Baker. "I have what +I call the Index—with a capital I, you know—"</p> + +<p>"I don't care anything about your explanations or your Index!" Wily +exclaimed. "I'm here to serve notice that I represent the nation's +interest as well as that of Great Eastern. And I am not going to stand +by silently while you mismanage these sacred funds the way you have +chosen to do in recent months. I don't know what's happened to you, +Baker. You were never guilty of such mistakes before. But unless you can +assure me that the full normal grant can be restored to Great Eastern, +I'm going to see that your office is turned inside out by the Senate +Committee on Scientific Development, and that you, personally, are +thrown out."</p> + +<p>Wily glared and breathed heavily after his speech. He sat waiting for +Baker's answer.</p> + +<p>Baker gave it when Wily had stopped panting and turned to drumming his +fingers on the desk. "Unless your record of achievement is better this +year than it has been in recent years, Great Eastern may not get any +allotment at all next year," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Wily shaded toward deep red, verging on purple, as he rose. "You'll +regret this, Baker! This office belongs to American Science. I refuse to +see it desecrated by your gross mismanagement! Good day!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus7.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Baker smiled grimly as Wily stormed out. Then he picked up the phone and +asked Doris to get Fenwick at Clearwater. When Fenwick finally came on, +Baker said, "Wily was just here. I expected he would be the one. This is +going to be it. Send me everything you've got for release. We're going +to find out how right Sam Atkins was!"</p> + +<p>He called the other maverick schools he'd given grants, and the penny +ante commercial organizations he'd set on their feet. He gave them the +same message.</p> + +<p>It wasn't going to be easy or pleasant, he reflected. The biggest guns +of Scientific Authority would be trained on him before this was over.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Drew Pearson had the word even before it reached Baker. Baker read it at +breakfast a week after Wily's visit. The columnist said, "The next big +spending agency to come under the fire of Congressional Investigation is +none other than the high-echelon National Bureau of Scientific +Development. Dr. William Baker, head of the Agency, has been accused of +indiscriminate spending policies wholly unrelated to the national +interest. The accusers are a group of elite universities and top +manufacturing organizations that have benefited greatly from Baker's +handouts in years past. This year, Baker is accused of giving upwards of +five million dollars to crackpot groups and individuals who have no +standing in the scientific community whatever.</p> + +<p>"If these charges are true, it is difficult to see what Dr. Baker is up +to. For many years he has had an enviable record as a tight-fisted, +hard-headed administrator of these important funds. Congress intends to +find out what's going on. The watchdog committee of Senator Landrus is +expected to call an investigation early next week."</p> + +<p>Baker was notified that same afternoon.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Senator Landrus was a big, florid man, who moved about a committee +hearing chamber with the ponderous smoothness of a luxury liner. He was +never visited by a single doubt about the rightness of his chosen +course—no matter how erratic it might appear to an onlooker. His faith +in his established legislative procedures and in the established tenets +of Science was complete. Since he wore the shield of both camps, his +confidence in the path of Senator Robert Landrus was also unmarred by +questions.</p> + +<p>Baker had faced him many times, but always as an ally. Now, recognizing +him as the enemy, Baker felt some small qualms, not because he feared +Landrus, but because so much was at stake in this hearing. So much +depended on his ability to guide the whims and uncertainties of this +mammoth vessel of Authority.</p> + +<p>There was an unusual amount of press interest in what might have seemed +a routine and unspectacular hearing. No one could recall a previous +occasion when the recipients had challenged a Government handout agency +regarding the size of the handouts. While Landrus made his opening +statement several of the reporters fiddled with the idea of a headline +that said something about biting the hand that feeds. It wouldn't quite +come off.</p> + +<p>Wily was invited to make his statement next, which he did with icy +reserve, never once looking in Baker's direction. He was followed by two +other university presidents and a string of laboratory directors. The +essence of their remarks was that Russia was going to beat the pants off +American researchers, and it was all Baker's fault.</p> + +<p>This recital took up all of the morning and half the afternoon of the +first day. A dozen or so corporation executives were next on the docket +with complaints that their vast facilities were being hamstrung by +Baker's sudden switch of R & D funds to less qualified agents. Baker +observed that the ones complaining were some of those who had never +spent a nickel on genuine research until the Government began buying it. +He knew that Landrus had not observed this fact. It would have to be +called to the senator's attention.</p> + +<p>By the end of the day, Landrus looked grave. It was obvious that he +could see nothing but villainy in Baker's recent performance. It had +been explained to him in careful detail by some of the most powerful men +in the nation. Baker was certainly guilty of criminal negligence, if not +more, in derailing these funds which Congress had intended should go to +the support of the nation's scientific leaders. Landrus felt a weary +depression. He hadn't really believed it would turn out this bad for +Baker, for whom he had had a considerable regard in times past.</p> + +<p>"You have heard the testimony of these witnesses," Landrus said to +Baker. "Do you wish to reply or make a statement of your own, Dr. +Baker?"</p> + +<p>"I most certainly do!" said Baker.</p> + +<p>Landrus didn't see what was left for Baker to say. "Testimony will +resume tomorrow at nine a.m.," he said. "Dr. Baker will present his +statement at that time."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The press thought it looked bad for Baker, too. Some papers accused him +openly of attempting to sabotage the nation's research program. Wily and +his fellows, and Landrus, were commended for catching this defection +before it progressed any further.</p> + +<p>Baker was well aware he was in a tight spot, and one which he had +deliberately created. But as far as he could see, it was the only chance +of utilizing the gift that Sam Atkins had left him. He felt confident he +had a fighting chance.</p> + +<p>His battery of supporters had not even been noticed in the glare of +Wily's brilliant assembly, but Fenwick was there, and Ellerbee. +Fenwick's fair-haired boy, George, and a half dozen of his new recruits +were there. Also present were the heads of the other maverick schools +like Clearwater, and the presidents—some of whom doubled as +janitors—of the minor corporations Baker had sponsored.</p> + +<p>Baker took the stand the following morning, armed with his charts and +displays. He looked completely confident as he addressed Landrus and the +assembly.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen—and ladies—" he said. "The corner grocery store was one of +America's most familiar and best loved institutions a generation or two +ago. In spite of this, it went out of business because we refused to +support it. May I ask why we refused to continue to support the corner +grocery?</p> + +<p>"The answer is obvious. We began to find better bargains elsewhere, in +the supermarket. As much as we regret the passing of the oldtime grocer +I'm sure that none of us would seriously suggest we bring him back.</p> + +<p>"For the same reason I suggest that the time may have come to reconsider +the bargains we have been getting in scientific developments and +inventions. Americans have always taken pride in driving a good, hard, +fair bargain. I see no reason why we should not do the same when we go +into the open market to buy ideas.</p> + +<p>"Some months ago I began giving fresh consideration to the product we +were buying with the millions of dollars in grants made by NBSD. It was +obvious that we were buying an impressive collection of shiny, glass and +metal laboratories. We were buying giant pieces of laboratory equipment +and monstrous machines of other kinds. We were getting endless +quantities of fat reports—they fill thousands of miles of microfilm.</p> + +<p>"Then I discovered an old picture of what I am sure all unbiased +scientists will recognize as the world's greatest laboratory—greatest +in terms of measurable output. I brought this picture with me."</p> + +<p>Baker unrolled the first of his exhibits, a large photographic blowup. +The single, whitehaired figure seated at a desk was instantly +recognized. Wily and his group glanced at the picture and glared at +Baker.</p> + +<p>"You recognize Dr. Einstein, of course," said Baker. "This is a +photograph of him at work in his laboratory at the Institute for +Advanced Study at Princeton."</p> + +<p>"We are all familiar with the appearance of the great Dr. Einstein," +said Landrus. "But you are not showing us anything of his laboratory, as +you claimed."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but I am!" said Baker. "This is all the laboratory Dr. Einstein +ever had. A desk, a chair, some writing paper. You will note that even +the bookshelves behind him are bare except for a can of tobacco. The +greatest laboratory in the world, a place for a man's mind to work in +peace. Nuclear science began here."</p> + +<p>Wily jumped to his feet. "This is absurd! No one denies the greatness of +Dr. Einstein's work, but where would he have been without billions of +dollars spent at Oak Ridge, Hanford, Los Alamos, and other great +laboratories. To say that Dr. Einstein did not use laboratory facilities +does not imply that vast expenditures for laboratories are not +necessary!"</p> + +<p>"I should like to reverse your question, Dr. Wily, and then let it +rest," said Baker. "What would Oak Ridge, Hanford, and Los Alamos have +done without Dr. Einstein?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Senator Landrus floated up from his chair and raised his hands. "Let us +be orderly, gentlemen. Dr. Baker has the floor. I should not like to +have him interrupted again, please."</p> + +<p>Baker nodded his thanks to the senator. "It has been charged," Baker +continued, "that the methods of NBSD in granting funds for research have +changed in recent times. This is entirely correct, and I should first +like to show the results of this change."</p> + +<p>He unrolled a chart and pinned it to the board behind him. "This chart +shows what we have been paying and what we have been getting. The black +line on the upper half of the chart shows the number of millions of +dollars spent during the past five years. Our budget has had a +moderately steady rise. The green line shows the value of laboratories +constructed and equipment purchased. The red line shows the measure of +new concepts developed by the scientists in these laboratories, the +improvement on old concepts, and the invention of devices that are +fundamentally new in purpose or function."</p> + +<p>The gallery leaned forward to stare at the chart. From press row came +the popping of flash cameras. Then a surge of spontaneous comment rolled +through the chamber as the audience observed the sharp rise of the red +line during the last six months, and the dropping of the green line.</p> + +<p>Wily was on his feet again. "An imbecile should be able to see that the +trend of the red line is the direct result of the previous satisfactory +expenditures for facilities. One follows the other!"</p> + +<p>Landrus banged for order.</p> + +<p>"That's a very interesting point," said Baker. "I have another chart +here"—he unrolled and pinned it—"that shows the output in terms of +concepts and inventions, plotted against the size of the grants given to +the institution."</p> + +<p>The curve went almost straight downhill.</p> + +<p>Wily was screaming. "Such data are absolutely meaningless! Who can say +what constitutes a new idea, a new invention? The months of +groundwork—"</p> + +<p>"It will be necessary to remove any further demonstrators from the +hearing room," said Landrus. "This will be an orderly hearing if I have +to evict everyone but Dr. Baker and myself. Please continue, doctor."</p> + +<p>"I am quite willing for my figures and premises to be examined in all +detail," said Baker. "I will be glad to supply the necessary information +to anyone who desires it at the close of this session. In the meantime, +I should like to present a picture of the means which we have devised to +determine whether a grant should be made to any given applicant.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will agree, Senator Landrus and Committee members, that +it would be criminal to make such choices on any but the most scientific +basis. For this reason, we have chosen to eliminate all elements of +bias, chance, or outright error. We have developed a highly advanced +scientific tool which we know simply as The Index."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker posted another long chart on the wall, speaking as he went. "This +chart represents the index of an institution which shall remain +anonymous as Sample A. However, I would direct Dr. Wily's close +attention to this exhibit. The black median line indicates the boundary +of characteristics which have been determined as acceptable or +nonacceptable for grants. The colored areas on either side of the median +line show strength of the various factors represented in any one +institution. The Index is very simple. All that is required is that +fifty per cent of the area above the line be colored in order to be +eligible for a grant. You will note that in the case of Sample A the +requirement is not met."</p> + +<p>Fenwick couldn't believe his eyes. The chart was almost like the first +one he had ever seen, the one prepared for Clearwater College months +ago. He hadn't even known that Baker was still using the idiotic Index. +Something was wrong, he told himself—all wrong.</p> + +<p>"The Index is a composite," Baker was saying; "the final resultant of +many individual charts, and it is the individual charts that will show +you the factors which are measured. These factors are determined by an +analysis of information supplied directly by the institution.</p> + +<p>"The first of these factors is admissions. For a college, it is +admission as a student. For a corporation, it is admission as an +employee. In each case we present the qualifications of the following at +college age: Thomas Edison, Michael Faraday, Nicholai Tesla, James Watt, +Heinrich Hertz, Kepler, Copernicus, Galileo, and Henry Ford. The +admissibility of this group of the world's scientific and the inventive +leaders is shown here." Baker pointed to a minute dab of red on the +chart.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen of the Committee," he said, "would you advise me to support +with a million-dollar grant an institution that would close its doors to +minds like those of Edison and Faraday?"</p> + +<p>The roar of surf seemed to fill the committee room as Landrus banged in +vain on the table. Photographers' flashes lit the scene with spurts of +lightning. Wily was on his feet screaming, and Baker thought he heard +the word, "Fraud!" repeated numerous times. Landrus was finally heard, +"The room will be cleared at the next outburst!"</p> + +<p>Baker wondered if he ever did carry out such a threat.</p> + +<p>But Wily prevailed. "No such question was ever asked," he cried. "My +organization was never asked the ridiculous question of whether or not +it would admit these men. Of course we would admit them if they were +known to us!"</p> + +<p>"I should like to answer the gentleman's objection," Baker said to +Landrus.</p> + +<p>The senator nodded reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"We did not, of course, present these men by name. That would have been +too obvious. We presented them in terms of their qualifications at the +age of college entrance. You see how many would have been turned down. +How many, therefore, who are the intellectual equals of these men are +also being turned down? Dr. Wily says they would be admitted if they +were known. But of course they could not be known at the start of their +careers!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Baker turned the chart and quickly substituted another. "The second +standard is that of creativeness. We simply asked the applicants to +describe ten or more new ideas of speculations entertained by each +member of the staff during the past year. When we received this +information, we did not even read the descriptions; we merely plotted +the degree of response. As you see, the institution represented by +Sample A does not consider itself long on speculative ideas."</p> + +<p>A titter rippled through the audience. Baker saw Wily poised, beet-red, +to spring up once more; then apparently he thought better of it and +slumped in his seat.</p> + +<p>"Is this a fair test?" Baker asked rhetorically. "I submit that it is. +An institution that is in the business of fostering creativeness ought +to be guilty of a few new ideas once in a while!"</p> + +<p>He changed charts once more and faced the listeners. "We have more than +twenty such factors that go into the composition of the Index. I will +not weary you with a recital of all of them, but I will present just one +more. We call this the area of communication, and it is plotted here for +Sample institution A."</p> + +<p>Again, a dismal red smudge showed up at the bottom of the sheet. Fenwick +could hardly keep from chuckling aloud as he recalled the first time he +had seen such a chart. He hoped Baker was putting it over. If the +reaction of the gallery were any indication, he was doing so.</p> + +<p>"A major activity of scientists in all ages has been writing reports of +their activities. If a man creates something new and talks only to +himself about it, the value of the man and his discovery to the world is +a big round zero. If a man creates something new and tells the whole +world about it, the value is at a maximum. Somewhere in between these +extremes lies the communicative activity of the modern scientist.</p> + +<p>"There was a time when the scientist was the most literate of men, and +the writing of a scientific report was a work of literary art. The +lectures of Michael Faraday, Darwin's account of his great +research—these are literate reading still.</p> + +<p>"There are few such men among us today. The modern scientists seldom +speak to you and me, but only to each other. To the extent their circle +of communication is limited, so is their value. Shall we support the man +who speaks to the world, or the man who speaks only in order to hear his +own echo?"</p> + +<p>He had them now, Fenwick was convinced. He could quit any time and be +ahead. The gallery was smiling approval. The press was nodding and +whispering to each other. The senators wouldn't be human if they weren't +moved.</p> + +<p>Baker swept aside all these charts now and placed another series before +the audience. "This is the Index on an institution to whom we have given +a sizable grant," he said. "Is there anyone here who would question our +decision?</p> + +<p>"This institution would have accepted every one of the list of +scientists I gave you a moment ago. They would have had their chance +here. This institution has men in whom new ideas pop up like cherry +blossoms in the spring. I don't know how many of them are good ideas. No +one can tell at this stage, but, at least, these men are +<i>thinking</i>—which is a basic requirement for producing scientific +discovery.</p> + +<p>"Finally, this institution is staffed by men who can't be shut up. They +don't communicate merely with each other. They talk about their ideas to +anyone who comes along. They write articles for little publications and +for big ones. They are in the home mechanics' journals and on +publishers' book lists.</p> + +<p>"Most important of all, these are some of the men responsible for the +red line on the first curve I showed you. These are the men who have +produced the most new developments and inventions with the least amount +of money.</p> + +<p>"I leave it to you, gentlemen. Has the National Bureau of Scientific +Development chosen correctly, or should we return to our former course?"</p> + +<p>There were cheers and applause as Baker sat down. Landrus closed the +hearing with the announcement that the evidence would be examined at +length and a report issued. Wily hurried forward to buttonhole him as +the crowd filed out.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"It was a good show," Fenwick said, "but I'm still puzzled by what +you've done. This new Index is really just about as phony as your old +one."</p> + +<p>They were seated in Baker's office once more. Baker smiled and glanced +through the window beyond Fenwick. "I suppose so," Baker admitted +finally, "but do you think Wily will be able to convince Landrus and his +committee of that no matter how big a dinner he buys him tonight?"</p> + +<p>"No—I don't think he will."</p> + +<p>"Then we've accomplished our purpose. Besides, there's a good deal of +truth buried in the Index. It's no lie that we can give them scientific +research at a cheaper price than ever before."</p> + +<p>"But what was the purpose you were trying to accomplish?"</p> + +<p>Baker hesitated. "To establish myself as an Authority," he said, +finally. "After today, I will be the recognized Authority on how to +manage the nation's greatest research and development program."</p> + +<p>Fenwick stared, then gasped. "Authority—you? This is the thing you were +trying to fight. This is the great Plague Sam Atkins taught you—"</p> + +<p>Baker was shaking his head and laughing. "No. Sam Atkins didn't tell me +that one man could become immune and fight the Plague head on all by +himself. He taught me something else that I didn't understand for a long +time. He told me that he who ceases to fear Authority becomes Authority.</p> + +<p>"To become Authority was the last thing in the world I wanted. But +finally I recognized what Sam meant; it was the only way I could ever +accomplish anything in the face of this Plague. You can't tell men of +this culture that it is wrong to put themselves in total agreement with +Authority. If that's the program on which they've chosen to function, +the destruction of the program would destroy them, just as it did me. +There had to be another way.</p> + +<p>"If men are afraid of lions, you don't teach them it's wrong for men to +be afraid of beasts; you teach them how to trap lions.</p> + +<p>"If men are afraid of new knowledge-experiences, you don't teach them +that new knowledge is not to be feared. There was a time when men got +burned at the stake for such efforts. The response today is not entirely +different. No—when men are afraid of knowledge you teach them to trap +knowledge, just as you might teach them to trap lions.</p> + +<p>"I can do this now because I have shown them that I am an Authority. I +can lead them and it will not fracture their basic program tapes, which +instruct them to be in accord with Authority. I can stop their battle +against those who are not possessed of the Plague. It may even be that I +can change the course of the Plague. Who knows?"</p> + +<p>Fenwick was silent for a long time. Then he spoke again. "I read +somewhere about a caterpillar that's called the Processionary +Caterpillar. Several of them hook up, nose to fanny, and travel through +a forest wherever the whims of the front caterpillar take them.</p> + +<p>"A naturalist once took a train of Processionary Caterpillars and placed +them on the rim of a flower pot in a continuous chain. They marched for +days around the flower pot, each one supposing the caterpillar in front +of him knew where he was going. Each was the Authority to the one +behind. Food and water were placed nearby, but the caterpillars +continued marching until they dropped off from exhaustion."</p> + +<p>Baker frowned. "And what's that got to do with—?"</p> + +<p>"You," said Fenwick. "You just led the way down off the flower pot. You +just got promoted to head caterpillar."</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Great Gray Plague, by Raymond F. 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Jones + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Great Gray Plague + +Author: Raymond F. Jones + +Release Date: February 18, 2009 [EBook #28118] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREAT GRAY PLAGUE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Dave Lovelace, Mary Meehan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE GREAT GRAY PLAGUE + + BY RAYMOND F. JONES + + + There is no enemy so hard to fight as a dull gray fog. It's not + solid enough to beat, too indefinite to kill, and too omnipresent + to escape. + + +[Transcribers Note: This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact and +Science Fiction February 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any +evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + +[Illustration] + + +Dr. William Baker was fifty and didn't mind it a bit. Fifty was a +tremendously satisfying age. With that exact number of years behind him +a man had stature that could be had in no other way. Younger men, who +achieve vast things at, say, thirty-five, are always spoken of with +their age as a factor. And no matter what the intent of the connection, +when a man's accomplishments are linked to the number of years since he +was born there is always a sense of apologia about it. + +But when a man is fifty his age is no longer mentioned. His name stands +alone on whatever foundation his achievements have provided. He has +stature without apology, if the years have been profitably spent. + +William Baker considered his years had been very profitably spent. He +had achieved the Ph. D. and the D. Sc. degrees in the widely separated +fields of electronics and chemistry. He had been responsible for some of +the most important radar developments of the World War II period. And +now he held a post that was the crowning achievement of those years of +study and effort. + +On this day of his fiftieth birthday he walked briskly along the +corridor of the Bureau building. He paused only when he came to the +glass door which was lettered in gold: National Bureau of Scientific +Development, Dr. William Baker, Director. He was unable to regard that +door without a sense of pride. But he was convinced the pride was +thoroughly justifiable. + +He turned the knob and stepped into the office. Then his brisk stride +came to a pause. He closed the door slowly and frowned. The room was +empty. Neither his receptionist nor his secretary, who should have been +visible in the adjoining room, were at their posts. Through the other +open door, at his left, he could see that his administrative assistant, +Dr. James Pehrson, was not at his desk. + +He had always expected his staff to be punctual. In annoyance that took +some of the glint off this day, he twisted the knob of his own office +door and strode in. + +He stopped just inside the room, and a warm wave of affection welled up +within him. All nine members of his immediate staff were gathered around +the table in the center of his office. On the table was a cake with pink +frosting. A single golden candle burned brightly in the middle of the +inscription: Happy Birthday, Chief. + +The staff broke into a frighteningly off-key rendition of "Happy +Birthday to You." William Baker smiled fondly, catching the eye of each +of them as they badgered the song to its conclusion. + +Afterward, he stood for a moment, aware of the moisture in his own eyes, +then said quietly, "Thank you. Thank you very much, Family. This is most +unexpected. None of you will ever know how much I appreciate your +thoughtfulness." + +"Don't go away," said Doris Quist, his blond and efficient secretary. +"There's more. This is from all of us." + +He opened the package she offered him. A genuine leather brief case. Of +course, the Government didn't approve of gifts like this. If he observed +the rules strictly, he ought to decline the gift, but he just couldn't +do that. The faces of Doris and the others were glowing as he held up +the magnificent brief case. This was the first time such a thing had +occurred in his office, and a man hit fifty only once. + +"Thanks so much for remembering," Baker said. "Things like this and +people like you make it all worth while." + +When they were all gone he sat down at his desk to take up the day's +routine. He felt a little twinge of guilt at the great satisfaction that +filled him. But he couldn't help it. A fine family, an excellent +professional position--a position of prominence and authority in the +field that interested him most--what more could a man want? + +His meditation was interrupted by the buzzing of the interphone. Pehrson +was on the other end. "Just reminding you, Chief," the assistant said. +"Dr. Fenwick will be in at nine-thirty regarding the request for the +Clearwater grant. Would you like to review the file before he arrives?" + +"Yes, please," said Baker. "Bring everything in. There's been no change, +no new information, I suppose?" + +"I'm afraid not. The Index is hopelessly low. In view of that fact there +can be no answer but a negative one. I'm sorry." + +"It's all right. I can make Fenwick understand, I'm sure. It may take a +little time, and he may erupt a bit, but it'll work out." + +Baker cut off and waited while Pehrson came in silently and laid the +file folders of the offending case on the desk. Pehrson was the epitome +of owl-eyed efficiency, but now he showed sympathy behind his great +horn-rimmed spectacles as he considered Baker's plight. "I wish we could +find some way to make the Clearwater research grant," he said. "With +just a couple of good Ph. D.'s who had published a few things, the Index +would be high enough--" + +"It doesn't matter. Fenwick is capable of handling his own troubles." +Pehrson was a good man, but this kind of solicitousness Baker found +annoying. + +"I'll send him in as soon as he comes," Pehrson said as he closed the +door behind him. + + * * * * * + +Baker sighed as he glanced at the folder labeled, Clearwater College. +Jerkwater is what it should be, he thought. He almost wished he had let +Pehrson handle Fenwick. But one couldn't neglect old friends, even +though there was nothing that could be done for shortsighted ones. + +Baker's memories shifted. He and Fenwick had gone to school together. +Fenwick had always been one to get off into weird wide alleys, mostly +dead ended. Now he was involved in what was probably the most dead ended +of all. For the last three years he had been president of little +Jerkwater--Clearwater College, and he seemed to have some hope that NBSD +could help him out of the hole. + +That was a mistake many people made. Baker sometimes felt that half his +time was spent in explaining that NBSD was not in the business of +helping people and institutions out of holes. It was in the business of +buying for the United States Government the best scientific research +available in the world. + +Fenwick wanted help that would put Clearwater College on its feet +through a research contract in solid state physics. Fenwick, thought +Baker, was dreaming. But that was Fenwick. + +The President of Clearwater College entered the outer office promptly at +nine-thirty. Pehrson greeted him, and Doris showed him into Baker's +office. + +Dr. John Fenwick didn't look like a college president, and Baker, +unknowingly, held this vaguely against him, too. He looked more like a +prosperous small business man and gave the impression of having just +finished a brisk workout on the handball court, and a cold shower. He +was ruddy and robust and ill-equipped with academic dignity. + +Baker pumped his hand as if genuinely glad to see him. "It's good to see +you again, John. Come on over and sit down." + +"I'll bet you hoped I'd break a leg on the way here," said Fenwick. He +took a chair by the desk and glanced at the file folder, reading the +title, Clearwater College. "And you've been hoping my application would +get lost, and the whole thing would just disappear." + +"Now, look, John--" Baker took his own seat behind the desk. Fenwick had +always had a devilish knack for making him feel uncomfortable. + +"It's all right," said Fenwick, waving away Baker's protests with a +vigorous flap of his hand. "I know Clearwater isn't MIT or Cal Tech, but +we've got a real hot physics department, and you're going to see some +sparks flying out of there if you'll give us half a chance in the +finance department. What's the good word, anyway? Do we get the research +grant?" + +Baker took a deep breath and settled his arms on the desk in front of +him, leaning on them for support. He wished Fenwick wasn't so abrupt +about things. + +"John," Baker said slowly. "The head of your physics department doesn't +even have a Ph. D. degree." + +Fenwick brightened. "He's working on that, though! I told you that in +answer to the question in the application. Bill, I wish you'd come down +and see that boy. The things he can do with crystals would absolutely +knock your hat off. He can stack them just like a kid stacking building +blocks--crystals that nobody else has ever been able to manipulate so +far. And the electrical characteristics of some of them--you wouldn't +believe the transistors he's been able to build!" + +"John," said Baker patiently. "The head of the physics department in any +institution receiving a grant must have a Ph. D. degree. That is one +absolutely minimum requirement." + +"You mean we've got to wait until George finishes his work for his +degree before we get the grant? That puts us in kind of a predicament +because the work that we hoped to have George do under the grant would +contribute towards his degree. Can't you put it through on the basis +that he'll have his degree just as soon as the present series of +experiments is completed?" + +Baker wiped his forehead and looked down at his hands on the desk. "I +said this is _one_ minimum requirement. There are others, John." + +"Oh, what else are we lacking?" Fenwick looked crestfallen for the first +time. + +"I may as well be blunt," said Baker. "There is no conceivable way in +which Clearwater College can be issued a research grant for +_anything_--and especially not for basic research in any field of +physical science." + + * * * * * + +Fenwick just stared at him for a minute as if he couldn't believe what +he had heard, although it was the thing he had expected to hear since +the moment he sat down. + +He seemed deflated when he finally spoke. "I don't think it was the +intent of the Congressional Act that made these funds available," he +said, "that only the big, plush outfits should get all the gravy. There +are plenty of smaller schools just like Clearwater who have first rate +talent in their science departments. It isn't fair to freeze us out +completely--and I don't think it's completely legal, either." + +"Clearwater is not being frozen out. Size has nothing to do with the +question of whether an institution receives a grant from NBSD or not." + +"When did you last give a grant to a college like Clearwater?" + +"I am afraid we have never given a grant to a college--like Clearwater," +said Baker carefully. + +Fenwick's face began to grow more ruddy. "Then will you tell me just +what is the matter with Clearwater, that we can't get any Government +research contract when every other Tom, Dick, and Harry outfit in the +country can?" + +"I didn't state my case in exactly those terms, John, but I'll be glad +to explain the basis on which we judge the qualifications of an +institution to receive a grant from us." + +Baker had never done this before for any unsuccessful applicant. In +fact, it was the policy of the Bureau to keep the mysteries of the Index +very carefully concealed from the public. But Baker wanted Fenwick to +know what had hung him. It was the one more or less merciful thing he +could do to show Fenwick what was wrong, and might be sufficient to +shake him loose from his dismal association with Clearwater. + +Baker opened the file folder and Fenwick saw now that it was +considerably fuller than he had first supposed. Baker turned the pages, +which were fastened to the cover by slide fasteners. Chart after chart, +with jagged lines and multicolored areas, flipped by under Baker's +fingers. Then Baker opened the accordian folds of a four-foot long chart +and spread it on the desk top. + +"This is the Index," he said, "a composite of all the individual charts +which you saw ahead of it. This Index shows in graphical form the +relationship between the basic requirements for obtaining a research +grant and the actual qualifications of the applicant. This line marks +the minimum requirement in each area." + +Baker's finger pointed to a thin, black line that crossed the sheet. +Fenwick observed that most of the colored areas and bars on the chart +were well inside the area on Baker's side of the line. He guessed that +the significance of the chart lay in this fact. + +"I take it that Clearwater College is in pretty sad shape, chartwise," +said Fenwick. + +"Very," said Baker. + +"Can you tell me how these charts are compiled?" + +Baker turned back to the sheaf of individual charts. "Each item of data, +which is considered significant in evaluating an applicant, is plotted +individually against standards which have been derived from an +examination of all possible sources of information." + +"Such as?" + +"For example, the student burden per faculty Ph. D. That is shown on +this chart here." + +"The what? Say that again," said Fenwick in bewilderment. + +"The number of students enrolled, plotted against the number of +doctorate degrees held by the faculty." + +"Oh." + +"As you see, Clearwater's index for this factor is dismally low." + +"We're getting a new music director next month. She expects to get her +doctorate next summer." + +"I'm afraid that doesn't help us now. Besides, it would have to be in a +field pertinent to your application to have much weight." + +"George--" + +"Doesn't help you at all for the present. You would require a minimum of +two in the physics department alone. These two would have to be of +absolutely top quality with a prolific publication record. That would +bring this factor to a bare minimum." + +"You take the number of Ph. D.'s and multiply them by the number of +papers published and the years of experience and divide by the number of +students enrolled. Is that the idea?" + +"Roughly," said Baker. "We have certain constants which we also inject. +In addition, we give weight to other factors such as patents applied for +and granted. Periods of consultation by private industry, and so on. +Each of these factors is plotted separately, then combined into the +overall Index." + +Baker turned the pages slowly, showing Fenwick a bleak record of black +boundary lines cutting through nearly virginal territory on the charts. +Clearwater's evaluation was reflected in a small spot of color near the +bottom edge. + + * * * * * + +Fenwick stared at the record without expression for a long time. "What +else do you chart?" he said finally. + +"The next thing we evaluate is the performance of students graduated +during the past twenty-five years." + +"Clearwater is only ten years old," said Fenwick. + +"True," said Baker, "and that is why, I believe, we have obtained such +an anomalous showing in the chart of this factor." + +Fenwick observed that the colored area had made a considerable invasion +on his side of the boundary on this chart. "Why anomalous? It looks like +we make a pretty good showing here." + +"On the face of it, this is true," Baker admitted. "The ten-year record +of the graduates of Clearwater is exceptional. But the past decade has +been unusual in the scope of opportunities, you must admit." + +"Your standard level must take this into account." + +"It does. But somehow, I am sure there is a factor we haven't recognized +here." + +"There might be," said Fenwick. "There might be, at that." + +"Another factor which contributes to the Index," said Baker, "is the +cultural impact of the institution upon the community. We measure that +in terms of the number and quality of cultural activities brought into +the community by the university or college. We include concerts, +lectures, terpsichorean activities, Broadway plays, and so on." + +"Terpsichorean activities. I like that," said Fenwick. + +"Primarily ballet," said Baker. + +"Sure." + +"Clearwater's record here is very low. It fact, there isn't any." + +"This helps us get turned down for a research grant in physics?" + +"It's a factor in the measurement of the overall status." + +"Look," said Fenwick, "the citizens of Clearwater are so infernally busy +with their own shindigs that they wouldn't know what to do if we brought +a long-hair performance into town. If it isn't square-dancing in the +Grange Hall, it's a pageant in the Masonic Temple. The married kids +would probably like to see a Broadway play, all right, but they're so +darned busy rehearsing their own in the basement of the Methodist Church +that I doubt they could find time to come. Besides that, there's the +community choir every Thursday, and the high school music department has +a recital nearly every month. People would drop dead if they had any +more to go to in Clearwater. I'd say our culture is doing pretty good." + +"Folk activities are always admirable," said Baker, "but improvement of +the cultural level in any community depends on the injection of outside +influences, and this is one of the functions of the university. +Clearwater College has not performed its obligation to the community in +this respect." + +Fenwick appeared to be growing increasingly ruddy. Baker thought he saw +moisture appearing on Fenwick's forehead. + +"I know this is difficult to face," said Baker sympathetically, "but I +wanted you to understand, once and for all, just how Clearwater College +appears to the completely objective eye." + +Fenwick continued to stare at him without comment. Then he said flatly, +"Let's see some more charts, Bill." + +"Museum activities. This is an important function of a college level +institution. Clearwater has no museum." + +"We can't afford one, in the first place. In the second place, I think +you've overlooked what we do have." + +"There _is_ a Clearwater museum?" Baker asked in surprise. + +"Two or three hundred of them, I guess. Every kid in the county has his +own collection of arrowheads, birds' eggs, rocks, and stuffed animals." + +"I'm not joking, John," said Baker bleakly. "The museum aspect of the +college is extremely important." + +"What else?" said Fenwick. + +"I won't go into everything we evaluate. But you should be aware of +several other factors pertaining to the faculty, which are evaluated. We +establish an index of heredity for each faculty member. This is +primarily an index of ancestral achievement." + +Fenwick's color deepened. Baker thought it seemed to verge on the +purple. "Should I open the window for a moment?" Baker asked. + +Fenwick shook his head, his throat working as if unable to speak. Then +he finally managed to say, "Apart from the sheer idiocy of it, how did +you obtain any information in this area?" + +Baker ignored the comment, but answered the question. "You filled out +forms. Each faculty member filled out forms." + +"Yeah, that's right. I remember. Acres of forms. None of us minded if it +was to help get the research grant. We supposed it was the usual +Government razzmatazz to keep some GS-9 clerk busy." + +"Our forms are hardly designed to keep people busy. They are designed to +give us needed information about applicant institutions." + +"And so you plot everybody's heredity." + +"As well as possible. You understand, of course, that the data are +necessarily limited." + +"Sure. How do our grandpas stack up on the charts?" + +"Not very well. Among Clearwater's total faculty of thirty-eight there +were no national political figures through three generations back. There +was one mayor, a couple of town councilmen, and a state senator or two. +That is about all." + +"Our people weren't very politically minded." + +"This is a measure of social consciousness and contemporary evaluation." + +Fenwick shrugged. "As I said, we aren't so good at politics." + +"Achievements in welfare activities are similarly lacking. No notable +intentions or discoveries, with the exception of one patent on a new +kind of beehive, appear in the record." + +[Illustration: _... But liars figure ...!_] + +"And this keeps us from getting a research grant in physics? What _did_ +our progenitors do, anyway? Get hung for being horse thieves?" + +"No criminal activities were reported by your people, but there is a +record of singular restlessness and dissatisfaction with established +conditions." + + * * * * * + +"What did they do?" + +"They were constantly on the move, for the most part. In the eighteenth +and nineteenth centuries they were primarily pioneers, frontiersmen, +settlers of new country. But when the country was established they +usually packed up and went somewhere else. Rovers, trappers, unsettled +people." + +"This is not good?" Fenwick glanced at the chart that was open now. It +was almost uncolored. + +"I regret to say that such people are not classed as the stable element +of communities," said Baker. "We cannot evaluate the index of hereditary +accomplishment for the Clearwater faculty very high." + +"It appears that our grandpas were among those generally given credit +for getting things set up," said Fenwick. + +"Such citizens are indeed necessary," said Baker. "But our index +evaluates stability in community life and accomplishments with +long-range effects in science and culture." + +"We haven't got much of a chance then, grandpa being foot-loose as he +was." + +"Other factors could completely override this negative evaluation. You +see, this is the beauty of the Index; it doesn't depend on any one +factor or small group of factors. We evaluate the whole range of factors +that have anything to do with the situation. Weaknesses in one spot may +be counterbalanced by strength in others." + +"It looks like Clearwater is staffed by a bunch of bums without any +strong spots." + +"I wouldn't say it in such terms, but the reason I am pointing these +things out to you, John, is to try to persuade you to disassociate +yourself from such a weak organization and go elsewhere. You have fine +talents of your own, but you have always had a pattern of associating +with groups like this one at Clearwater. Don't you see now that the only +thing for you to do is go somewhere where there are people capable of +doing things?" + +"I _like_ Clearwater. I like the people at the College. Where else are +we in the bums category?" + +Baker suddenly didn't want to go on. The whole thing had become +distasteful to him. "There are a good many others. I don't think we need +to go into them. There is the staff reading index, the social activity +index, wardrobe evaluation, hobbies, children--actual and planned." + +"I want to hear about them," said Fenwick. "That wardrobe +evaluation--that sounds like a real fascinating study." + +"Actually, it's comparatively minor," said Baker. "Our psychologists +have worked out some extremely interesting correlations, however. Each +item of a man's wardrobe is assigned a numerical rating. Tuxedo, one or +more. Business suits, color and number. Hunting jackets. Slacks. Sport +coats. Work shoes. Dress shoes. Very interesting what our people can do +with, such information." + +"Clearwater doesn't rate here?" + +Baker indicated the chart. "I'm afraid not. Now, this staff reading +index is somewhat similar. You recall the application forms asked for +the number of pages of various types of material read during the past +six months--scientific journals, newspapers, magazines, fiction." + +"I suppose Clearwater is a pretty illiterate bunch," said Fenwick. + +Baker pointed soundlessly to the graph. + +"Hobbies and social activities are not bad," Baker said, after a time. +"Almost up to within ten points of the standard. A few less bingo +parties and Brownie meetings and that many more book reviews or serious +soirees would balance the social activity chart. If the model railroad +club were canceled and a biological activity group substituted, the +hobby classification would look much better. Then, in the number of +children, actual and planned, Clearwater is definitely out of line, too. +You see, the standard takes the form of the well-known bell-shaped +curve. Clearwater is way down on the high side." + +"Too much biological activity already," Fenwick murmured. + +Baker looked up. "What was that? I didn't hear what you said." + +Fenwick leaned back and extended his arms on the desk. "I said your +whole damned Index is nothing but a bunch of pseudo-intellectual +garbage." + + * * * * * + +Baker felt the color rising in his face, but he forced himself to remain +calm. After a moment of silence he said. "Your emotional feelings are +understandable, but you must remember that the Index permits us to +administer accurately the National Science Development Act. Without the +scientific assurance of the Index there would be no way of determining +where these precious funds could best be utilized." + +"You'd be better off putting the money on the ponies," said Fenwick. +"Sometimes they win. As it stands, you've set it up for a sure loss. You +haven't got a chance in the world." + +"You think Clearwater College could make better use of some of our funds +than, say, MIT?" + +"I wouldn't be surprised. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying the boys at +MIT or Cal Tech or a lot of other places couldn't come up with a real +development in the way of a fermodacular filter for reducing +internucleated cross currents. But the real breakthroughs--you've closed +your doors and locked them out." + +"Who have we locked out? We've screened and fine combed the resources of +the entire country. We know exactly where the top research is being +conducted in every laboratory in the nation." + +Fenwick shook his head slowly and smiled. "You've forgotten the boys +working in their basements and in their back yard garages. You've +forgotten the guys that persuade the wife to put up with a busted-down +automatic washer for another month so they can buy another hundred bucks +worth of electronic parts. You've remembered the guys who have Ph. D.'s +for writing 890-page dissertations on the Change of Color in the Nubian +Daisy after Twilight, but you've forgotten guys like George Durrant, who +can make the atoms of a crystal turn handsprings for him." + +Baker leaned back in his chair and smiled. He almost wished he hadn't +wasted the effort of trying to show Fenwick. But, then, he had tried. +And he would always have regretted it if he hadn't. + +"You're referring now to the crackpot fringe?" he said. + +"I suppose so," said Fenwick. "I've heard it called that before." + +"One of the things, above all else, which the Index was designed to +accomplish," said Baker, "was the screening out of all elements that +might be ever so remotely associated with the crackpot fringe. And +believe me, you'll never know how strong it is in this country! Every +two-bit tinkerer wants a handout to develop his world-shaking gadget +that will suppress the fizz after the cap is removed from a pop bottle, +or adapt any apartment-size bathtub for raising tropical fish." + +"You ever heard of the flotation process?" said Fenwick abruptly. + +Baker frowned at the sudden shift of thought. "Of course--" + +"What would the world be like without the flotation process?" + +"The metals industry would be vastly different, of course. Copper would +be much scarcer and higher priced. Gold--" + +"A ton of ore and maybe a pound of recovered metal, right?" said +Fenwick. "Move a mountain of waste to get anything of value. Crush +millions of tons of rock and float out the pinpoint particles of metal +on bubbles of froth." + +"That's a rough description of what happens." + +"You've heard of high-grading." + +"Of course. A somewhat colloquial term used in mining." + +"The high-grader takes a pick and digs for anything big enough to see +and pick up with his hands. He doesn't worry about the small stuff that +takes sweat and machinery to recover." + +"I suppose so. I fail to see the significance--" + +"You're high-grading, Bill," said Fenwick. He leaned across the desk and +spoke with bitter intensity. "You're high-grading and you should be +using a flotation process." + +Fenwick slowly drew back in his chair. Baker felt overwhelmed by the +sudden intensity he had never before seen displayed in John Fenwick. Any +reaction on his part seemed suddenly inadequate. "I fail to see any +connection--," he said finally. + +Fenwick looked at him steadily. "Human creativeness can be mined only by +flotation methods. It's in low-grade ore. Process a million stupid +notions and find a pin point of genius. Turn over enormous wastes of +human thought and recover a golden principle. But turn your back on +these mountains of low-grade material and you shut out the wealth of +creative thought that is buried in them. More than that, by high-grading +only where rich veins have appeared in the past, you're mining lodes +that have played out." + +"An ingenious analogy," said Baker, recovering with a smile now. "But +it's hardly an accurate or applicable one. The human mind is not a piece +of precious metal found in a mountain of ore. Rather, it's an intricate +device capable of producing computations of unbelievable complexity. And +we know how such devices that are superior in function are produced, and +we know what their characteristics are. We also know that such a device +does not 'play out'. If it is superior in function, it can remain so for +a long time." + +"High-grading," said Fenwick. "And the vein is played out. You'll never +find the thing you're looking for until you develop means of processing +low-grade material." + + * * * * * + +Baker watched Fenwick across the desk. He was weary of the whole thing. +He certainly had no need to prove himself to this man. He had simply +tried to do Fenwick a favor, and Fenwick had thrown it right back in his +face. Yet there was a temptation to go on, to prove to Fenwick the +difference between their two worlds. Fenwick belonged to a world +compounded of inevitable failure. The temptation to show him, to try +again to lift him out of it was born of a kind of pity for Fenwick. + +Baker's own life had arrowed decisively, without waver, to a goal that +was as correct as the tolerances of human error could make it. He often +permitted himself the pride of considering his mind somewhat as a +computer that had been programmed through a magnificent gene inheritance +to drive irresistibly toward the precise goals he had reached. But +Fenwick--Fenwick was still fumbling around in a morass of uncertainty. +After years of erratic starts and stops he was now confusedly trying to +make something out of that miserable little institution called +Clearwater College. + +It wasn't particularly friendship that urged Baker to show Fenwick. +Their friendship was of a breed that Baker had never quite been able to +define to his own satisfaction. It seemed to him there was a sort of +deadly fascination in associating with a man who walked so blindly, who +was so profoundly incapable of understanding his own blindness and +peril. + +"I'm going to show you," Baker said abruptly, "exactly what it would +mean if we were to do as you suggest. I'll show you what it would be +like to give attention to every halfwit and crackpot that comes begging +for a handout." He switched the intercom and spoke into it. "Doris, +please bring in the Ellerbee file. Yes--the crackpot section." + +He switched off. "Doris has her own quaint but quite accurate way of +cataloguing our various applications," he explained. + +In a moment the secretary entered and placed the file on the desk. +"There's a new letter in there," she said. "Dr. Pehrson initialed it. He +said you didn't want to be bothered any more with this case." + +"That's right." + +Baker opened the file and shoved it toward Fenwick. "This boy has a +gadget he wants us to look at. Doesn't really need any money, he says. +That's the kind we really have to be on guard against. If we looked at +his wonder gadget, we'd be pestered for a million-dollar handout for +years to come." + +"What's he got?" Fenwick asked. + +"Some kind of communication device, he says. He claims it's nothing but +a grown crystal which you hold in your hand and talk to anybody anywhere +on Earth." + +"Sounds like it wouldn't take much to find out whether he's got anything +or not. Just let him put on a five-minute demonstration." + +"But multiply that five minutes by a thousand, by ten thousand. And once +you let them get their teeth into you, it doesn't stop with five +minutes. It goes on into reams of letters and years of time. No, you +have to stop this kind of thing before it ever starts. But take a look +at some of this material in the file and you'll see what I mean." + +Fenwick picked up the top letter as Baker pushed the file toward him. +"He starts this one by saying, 'Dear Urban.' Is that what he calls you? +What does he mean?" + +"Who knows? He's a crackpot, I told you. Who cares what he means, +anyway. We've got far more important things to worry about." + +Fenwick scanned the letter a moment, then looked up, a faint smile on +his face. "I know what he means. Urban--Pope Urban--was the one +responsible for the persecutions of Galileo." + +Baker shrugged embarrassedly. "I told you he was a crackpot. Delusions +of grandeur and of persecution are typical." + +"This boy may not be as crazy as he sounds. You're giving him a pretty +good imitation of a Galileo treatment--won't even look at his device. He +says here that 'Since you have previously refused to examine my device +and have questioned my reliability as an observer, I have obtained the +services of three unbiased witnesses, whose affidavits, signed and +notarized, are attached. These men are the Fire Chief, the Chief of +Police, and the Community Church Pastor of Redrock, all of whom testify +that they did see my device in full operation this past week. I trust +that this evidence will persuade you that an investigation should be +made of my device. I fail to see how the bull-headedness and +cocksureness of your office can withstand any more of the evidence I +have to offer in support of my claims.'" + +"A typical crackpot letter," said Baker. "He tries to be reasonable, but +his colors are soon shown when he breaks down into vituperative language +like a frustrated child." + +Fenwick thumbed through the large pile of correspondence. "I'd say +anybody would likely blow his stack a good deal harder than this if he'd +been trying to get your attention this long. Why didn't he ever send you +one of his gadgets in the mail?" + +"Oh, he did," said Baker. "That was one of the first things he did." + +"What did you do?" + +"Sent it back. We always return these things by registered return mail." + +"Without even trying it out?" + +"Of course." + +"Bill, that isn't even reasonable. These earlier letters of his describe +the growing of these crystals. He tells exactly how he does it. He knows +what he's talking about. I'd like to see him and see his crystal." + +"That's what I was hoping you'd say! All we have to do is get Doris to +give him a call and he'll be here first thing in the morning. You can be +our official investigator. You can see what it's like dealing with a +crackpot!" + + * * * * * + +James Ellerbee was a slim man, impetuous and energetic. Fenwick liked +him on sight. He was not a technical man; he was a farmer. But he was an +educated farmer. He had a degree from the State Agricultural College. He +dabbled in amateur radio and electronics as a hobby. + +"I'm certainly glad someone is finally willing to give me a break and +take a look at my device," he said as he shook Fenwick's hand. "I've had +nothing but a runaround from this office for the past eight months. Yet, +according to all the publicity, this is where the nation's scientific +progress is evaluated." + +Fenwick felt like a hypocrite. "We get pretty overloaded," he said +lamely. + +They were in Baker's office. Baker watched smugly from behind his desk. +Ellerbee said, "Well, we might as well get started. All you have to do, +Mr. Fenwick, is hold one of these crystal cubes in your hand. I'll go in +the other office and close the door. It may help at first if you close +your eyes, but this is not really necessary." + +"Wait," said Fenwick. Somehow he wanted to get away from Baker while +this was going on. "I'd like to take it outside, somewhere in the open. +Would that be all right?" + +"Sure. Makes no difference where you try it," said Ellerbee. "One place +is as good as another." + +Baker waved a hand as they went out. "Good luck," he said. He smiled +confidently at Fenwick. + +As far as Fenwick could see, the crystal was not even potted or cased in +any way. The raw crystal lay in his hand. The striations of the +multitude of layers in which it was laid down were plainly visible. + +Ellerbee dropped Fenwick off by the Jefferson memorial, then drove on +about a mile. Still in sight, he stopped the car and got out. Fenwick +saw him wave a hand. Nothing happened. + +Fenwick glanced down at the crystal in his hand. About the size of a +child's toy block. He could almost understand Baker's position. It _was_ +pretty silly to suppose this thing could have the powers Ellerbee said +it had. No electric energy applied. It merely amplified the normal +telepathic impulses existing in every human mind, Ellerbee said. Fenwick +sighed. You just couldn't tell ahead of time that a thing wasn't going +to pan out. He knew his philosophy was right. These had to be +investigated--every lousy, crackpot one of them. You could never tell +what you were missing out on unless you did check. + +He squeezed harder on the crystal, as Ellerbee had told him to do. + +It was just a little fuzzy at first, fading and coming back. Then it was +there, shimmering a little, but steady. The image of Ellerbee standing +in front of him, grinning. + +Fenwick glanced down the road. Ellerbee was still there, a mile away. +But he was also right there in front of him, about four feet away. + +"It shakes you up a little bit at first," said Ellerbee. "But you get +used to it after a while. Anyway, this is it. Are you convinced my +device works?" + +Fenwick shook his head to try to clear it rather than to give a negative +answer. "I'm convinced _something_ is working," he said. "I'm just not +quite sure what it is." + +"I'll drive across town," Ellerbee offered. "You can see that distance +makes no difference at all. Later, I'll prove it works clear across the +country if you want me to." + +They arranged that proof of Ellerbee's presence on the other side of the +city could be obtained by Fenwick's calling him at a drug store pay +phone. Then they would communicate by means of the cubes. + +It was no different than before. + +The telephone call satisfied Fenwick that Ellerbee was at least ten +miles away. Then, within a second, he also appeared to be standing +directly in front of Fenwick. + +"What do you want?" said Fenwick finally. "What do you want the Bureau +to do about your device? How much money do you want for development?" + +"Money? I don't need any money!" Ellerbee exploded. "All I want is for +the Government to make some use of the thing. I've had a patent on it +for six months. The Patent Office had sense enough to give me a patent, +but nobody else would look at it. I just want somebody to make some use +of it!" + +"I'm sure a great many practical applications can be found," Fenwick +said lamely. "We'll have to make a report, first, however. There will be +a need for a great many more experiments--" + +But most important of all, Baker would have to be shown. Baker would +have to _know_ from his own experience that this thing worked. + +Fenwick suddenly wanted to get away from Ellerbee as much as he had from +Baker a little earlier. There was just so much a man's aging synapses +could stand, he told himself. He had to do a bit of thinking by himself. +When Ellerbee drove up again, Fenwick told him what he wanted. + +Ellerbee looked disappointed but resigned. "I hope this isn't another +runaround, Mr. Fenwick. You'll pardon me for being blunt, but I've had +some pretty raw treatment from your office since I started writing about +my communicator." + +"I promise you this isn't a runaround," said Fenwick, "but it's +absolutely necessary to get Dr. Baker to view your demonstration. We +will want to see your laboratories and your methods of production. I +promise you it won't be more than two or three days, depending on Dr. +Baker's busy schedule." + +"O.K. I'll wait until the end of the week," said Ellerbee. "If I don't +hear something by then, I'll go ahead with my plans to market the +crystals as a novelty gadget." + +"I'll be in touch with you. I promise," said Fenwick. He stood by the +curb and watched Ellerbee drive away. + + * * * * * + +Fenwick moved slowly back to his own car and sat behind the wheel +without starting the motor. It seemed a long time since nine-thirty +yesterday morning, when he had come in to Baker's office to check on the +grant he had known Baker wasn't going to give him. Now, merely by +kicking Baker's refuse pile with his toe, so to speak, he had turned up +a diamond that Baker was ready to discard. + +Fenwick felt a sudden surge of revulsion. How was it possible for such a +blind, ignorant fool as Baker to be placed in the position he was in? +How could the administrative officers of the United States Government be +responsible for such misjudgment? Such maladministration, if performed +consciously, would be sheer treason. Yet, unconsciously and ignorantly, +Baker's authority was perpetuated, giving him a stranglehold on the +creative powers of the nation. + +Fenwick tried to recall how he and Baker had become friends--so long +ago, in their own college days. It wasn't that there was any closeness +or common interest between them, yet they seemed to have drawn together +as two opposites might. They were both science majors at the time, but +their philosophies were so different that their studies were hardly a +common ground. + +Fenwick figuratively threw away the textbook the first time the +professor's back was turned. Baker, Fenwick thought, never took his eyes +from its pages. Fenwick distrusted everything that he could not prove +himself. Baker believed nothing that was not solidly fixed in black and +white and bound between sturdy cloth covers, and prefaced by the name of +a man who boasted at least two graduate degrees. + +Fenwick remembered even now his first reaction to Baker. He had never +seen his kind before and could not believe that such existed. He +supposed Baker felt similarly about him, and, out of the strange +contradiction of their worlds, they formed a hesitant friendship. For +himself, Fenwick supposed that it was based on a kind of fascination in +associating with one who walked so blindly, who was so profoundly +incapable of understanding his own blindness and peril. + +But never before had he realized the absolute danger that rested in the +hands of Baker. And there must be others like him in high Government +scientific circles, Fenwick thought. He had learned long ago that +Baker's kind was somewhere in the background in every laboratory and +scientific office. + +But few of them achieved the strangling power that Baker now possessed. + +The Index! Fenwick thought of it and gagged. Wardrobe evaluation! Staff +reading index! The reproductive ratio--social activity index--the index +of hereditary accomplishment--multiply your ancestors by the number of +technical papers your five-year old children have produced and divide by +the number of book reviews you attend weekly-- + +Fenwick slumped in the seat. We hold these truths to be +self-evident--that the ratio of sports coats to tuxedos in a faculty +member's closet shall determine whether Clearwater gets to do research +in solid state physics, whether George Durrant gives his genius to the +nation or whether it gets buried in Dr. William Baker's refuse pile. + +But not only George Durrant. Jim Ellerbee, too. And how many others? + +Something had to be done. + +Fenwick hadn't realized it before, but this was the thought that had +been churning in his cortex for the last hour. Something had to be done +about Bill Baker. + +But, short of murder, what? + +Getting rid of Baker physically was not the answer, of course. If he +were gone, a hundred others like him would fight for his place. + +Baker had to be shown. He had to be shown that high-grading was costing +him the very thing he was trying to find. It must be proven to him that +flotation methods work as well in mining human resources as in mining +metal. That the extra trouble paid off. + +This was known--a long time ago--Fenwick thought. Somewhere along the +way things got changed. He glanced toward the Jefferson Memorial. Tom +Jefferson knew how it should be, Tom Jefferson, statesman, farmer, +writer, and amateur mechanic and inventor. It was not only every +gentleman's privilege, it was also his duty to be a tinkerer and amateur +scientist, no matter what else he might be. + +Fenwick glanced in the distance toward the Lincoln Memorial. Abe had +done his share of tinkering. His weird boot-strap system for hoisting +river boats off shoals and bars hadn't amounted to much, but Abe knew +the principle that every man has the right to be his own scientist. + +And then there was Ben Franklin, the noblest amateur of them all! He had +roamed these parts, too. + +Somewhere it had been lost. The Bill Bakers would have laughed out of +existence the great tinkerers like Franklin and Lincoln and Jefferson. +And the Pasteurs and the Mendels--and the George Durrants and the Jim +Ellerbees, too. + +Fenwick started the car. Something had to be done about Bill Baker. + + * * * * * + +Baker leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. "So it worked, did +it? He showed you something that made you think he had a real working +device." + +"There was no 'think' about it," said Fenwick. "I saw it with my own +eyes. That boy's got something terrific!" + +Baker sobered and thumbed through the Ellerbee file again. "Any freshman +math major could poke holes all through this mathematical explanation he +offers. Right? Secondly, a device such as he claims to have produced +violates all the basic laws of science. Why, it's even against the +Second Law of Thermodynamics!" + +"I don't care what it's against," said Fenwick. "It works. I want you to +come with me to Ellerbee's and see for yourself. His device will +revolutionize communications." + +Baker shook his head sadly. "It's always tougher when they show you +something that seems to work. Then you've got to waste a lot of time +looking for the gimmick if you're going to follow it through. I just +haven't got the time--" + +"You've got to, Bill!" + +"I'll tell you what I'll do. You go out there and look over his setup. +If you can't find his gimmick in half a day, I'll come out and show it +to you. But I warn you, some of these things are very tricky--like the +old perpetual motion machines. You've got to have your wits about you. +Is that fair enough?" + +"Fair enough," Fenwick agreed. + +Baker smiled broadly. "I'll do even more. If this Ellerbee device should +prove to be on the level, I'll give you the research grant you want for +Clearwater." + +"I'm not so sure I want it on those terms," said Fenwick. + +"Well, it's a purely academic matter. You won't have to worry about it. +But, on the other hand, I'll expect you to agree that when Ellerbee is +exposed you'll not persist in your request to this office." + +"Well, now--" + +"That's a fair offer. I'm giving you a chance to prove I'm wrong in +setting up the Index to screen out people like Ellerbee--" + +"--And institutions like Clearwater." + +"And institutions like Clearwater," Baker agreed. + +"All right," said Fenwick. "I'll gamble with you--for one more stake: If +Ellerbee's device is on the level, you'll make a grant to Clearwater +_and_ other institutions of like qualifications, and you'll scrap that +insane Index--" + +Baker tapped the desk placatingly. "The grant to Clearwater, yes. As for +the Index, if it should fail in its applicability to this clear-cut +Ellerbee case I would be the first to want to know why. But I assure you +there is no flaw in the Index. It has been tried too many thousands of +times." + + * * * * * + +Ellerbee's place was in Virginia, in a dairying area in the hills. The +last ten miles of the road were not the kind to attract visitors. The +road was steep and narrow in places that turned sharply around the +hillsides. No guardrails blocked the descent into the steep gullies. It +was definitely a region for people who liked solitude. The farms that +lay in the valleys of the hills were neat and well-cared for, however. +The people Fenwick passed on the road didn't look like the recluse type. + +Ellerbee's farm was one of the best looking in the vicinity. It had the +look of being cared for by a man who could do everything. The huge barn +and the corrals were as neat as a garden, and the large white frame +farmhouse stood out like a monument against the green pasture. + +A woman and two children were in the garden beside the house as Fenwick +drove up. "May I help you? I'm Mrs. Ellerbee," the woman said. + +Fenwick explained who he was and his purpose in coming. "Jim's been +expecting you," the woman said. "His laboratory is the long white +building back of the house. He's out there now." + +Jim Ellerbee met him at the door. "You didn't bring Dr. Baker," he said +almost accusingly. + +"Later," said Fenwick. "I came, as I promised. Dr. Baker wants my report +on your facilities and production methods. Then he will come up to make +his own inspection." + +There was doubt in Ellerbee's eyes, as if he was used to such stories. +"Maybe it would be best if I marketed the crystals in any form I can," +he said. + +He led Fenwick through a number of rooms of expensive, precision +electronic equipment. Then they passed through a set of double doors, +which Fenwick observed acted as a thermal lock between the crystal +growing room and the rest of the building. It reminded him of George +Durrant's laboratory at Clearwater. + +"This is where the crystals are grown," said Ellerbee. "I suppose you're +familiar with such processes. Here we must use a very precisely +controlled sequence of co-crystallization to get layers of desired +thickness--" + +Fenwick wasn't listening. He had suddenly observed the second man in the +room, a rather small, swarthy man, who moved with quiet precision among +a row of tanks on the far side of the room. There was a startling +quality about the man that Fenwick was unable to define, a strangeness. + +Ellerbee caught the direction of his glance. "Oh," he said. "You must +meet my neighbor, Sam Atkins. Sam is in this as deep or even deeper than +I am. I think perhaps he's more responsible for the communicator +crystals." + +The man turned as his name was mentioned, and came toward them. "You +were the one who developed the crystals," he said in a soft, persuasive +voice, to Jim Ellerbee. + +"This is my setup," Ellerbee explained with a wave of his hand to +indicate the laboratory surroundings. "But Sam has been working with me +for about a year on this thing. When Sam moved in, we found we were both +radio hams and electronic bugs. I'd been fooling around with crystal +growing, trying to design some new type transistors. Then Sam suggested +some experiments in co-crystallization--using different chemicals that +will crystallize in successive layers in one crystal. + +"We stumbled on one combination that made a terrific amplifier. Then we +found it would actually radiate to a distant point all by itself. +Finally, we discovered that its radiation was completely +nonelectromagnetic. There is no way we have yet found of detecting the +radiation from the crystal--except by means of another piece of the same +crystal. + +"I know it's against all the rules in the books. It just doesn't make +sense. But there it is. It works." + +Sam Atkins had turned away for a moment to attend to one of the tanks, +but Fenwick found himself intensely aware of the man's presence. There +was nothing he could put his finger on. He just knew, with such intense +certainty, that Sam Atkins was _there_. + +"What does Mr. Atkins do?" Fenwick asked. "Does he have a dairy farm, +too?" + +Ellerbee nodded. "His place is right next to mine. Since we started this +project Sam has practically lived here, however. He's a bachelor, and so +he takes most of his meals with us." + +"Seems strange--" Fenwick mused, "two men like you, way out here in the +country, doing work on a level with that of the best crystal labs in the +country. I should think you'd both rather be in academic or industrial +work." + +Ellerbee smiled and looked up through the windows to the meadows beyond. +"We're _free_ out here," he said. + +Fenwick thought of Baker. "You are that," he said. + +"You said you wanted to investigate the whole production process. We'll +start here, if you like, and I'll show you every step in our process. +This tank contains an ordinary alum solution. We start building on a +seed crystal of alum and continue until we reach a precise thickness. +Here is a solution of chrome alum. You'll note the insulated tanks. Room +temperature is maintained within half a degree. The solutions are held +to within one-tenth of a degree. Crystal dimensions must be held to +tolerances of little more than the thickness of a molecule--" + + * * * * * + +The gimmick to fool him and cheat him. Where was it? Fenwick asked +himself. Baker was sure it was here. If so, where could it be? There was +no trickery in the crystal laboratory--unless it was the trickery of +precision refinement of methods. Only men of great mechanical skill +could accomplish what Ellerbee and his friend were doing. Genius behind +the milking machine! Fenwick could almost sympathize with Baker in his +hiding behind the ridiculous Index. Without some such protection a man +could encounter shocks. + +The crackpot fringe. + +Where else would credence have been given to the phenomenon of a crystal +that seemed to radiate in a nonelectromagnetic way? + +But, of course, it couldn't actually be doing that. All the books, all +the authorities, and the known scientific principles said it couldn't +happen. Therefore, it wouldn't have happened--outside the crackpot +fringe. + +If Ellerbee and Atkins weren't trying to foist a deliberate deception, +where were they mistaken? It was possible for such men as these to make +an honest mistake. That would more than likely turn out to be the case +here. But how could there be a mistake in the production of a phenomenon +such as Fenwick had witnessed? How could that be produced through some +error when it couldn't even be done by known electronic methods--not +just as Fenwick had seen it. + +Throughout the morning Ellerbee led him down the rows of tanks, +explaining at each step what was happening. Sometimes Sam Atkins offered +a word of explanation also, but always he stayed in the background. The +two farmers showed Fenwick how they measured crystal size down to the +thickness of a molecule while the crystals were growing. + +A sudden suspicion crossed Fenwick's mind. "If those dimensions are so +critical, how did you determine them in the first place?" + +"Initially, it was a lucky accident," said Sam Atkins. + +"Very lucky," said Fenwick, "if you were able to accidentally obtain a +crystal of fifteen layers or so and have each layer even approximately +correct." + +Sam smiled blandly. "Our first crystals were not so complex, you +understand. Only three layers. We thought we were building transistors, +then. Later, our mathematics showed us the advantage of additional +layers and gave us the dimensions." + +The mathematics that Baker said a kid could poke holes in. Fenwick +didn't know. He hadn't checked the math. + +Where was the gimmick? + +In the afternoon they took him out for field tests again. A rise behind +the barn was about a mile from a similar rise on Sam Atkins' place. They +communicated across that distance in all the ways, including various +kinds of codes, that Fenwick could think of to find some evidence of +hoax. Afterwards, they returned to the laboratory and sawed in two the +crystals they had just used. Then they showed him the tests they had +devised to determine the nature of the radiation between the crystals. + +He did not find the gimmick. + +By the end of the day Ellerbee seemed beat, as if he'd been under a +heavy strain all day long. And then Fenwick realized that was actually +the case. Ellerbee wanted desperately to have someone believe in him, +believe in his communication device. Not only had he used all the +reasoning power at his command, he had been straining physically to +induce Fenwick to believe. + +Through it all, however, Sam Atkins seemed to remain bland and utterly +at ease, as if it made absolutely no difference to him, whatever. + +"I guess we've just about shot our wad," said Ellerbee. "That's about +all we've got to show you. If we haven't convinced you by now that our +communicator works, I don't know how we can accomplish it." + +Had they convinced him? Fenwick asked himself. Did he believe what he +had seen or didn't he? He had been smug in front of Baker after the +first demonstration, but now he wondered how much he had been covered by +the same brush that had tarred Baker. + +It wasn't easy for him to admit the possibility of nonelectromagnetic +radiation from these strange crystals, radiation which could carry sight +and sound from one point to another without any transducers but the +crystals themselves. + +"You have to step out of the world you've grown accustomed to," said Sam +Atkins very quietly. "This is what we have had to do. It's not hard now +to comprehend that telepathic forces of the mind can be directed by this +means. This is a new pattern. Think of it as such. Don't try to cram it +into the old pattern. Then it's easy." + +A new pattern. That was the trouble, Fenwick thought. There couldn't +really be any new patterns, could there? There was only one basic +pattern, in which all the phenomena of the universe fit. He readily +admitted that very little was known about that pattern, and many things +believed true were false. But the Second Law of Thermodynamics. _That_ +had to be true--invariably true--didn't it? + +If there was a hoax, Baker would have to find it. + +"I'll be back with Dr. Baker in a couple of days," Fenwick said. "After +that, the one final evidence we'll need will be to construct these +crystals in our own laboratories, entirely on our own, based on your +instructions." + +Ellerbee nodded agreement. "That would suit us just fine." + + * * * * * + +"Hypnotism," said Baker. "It sounds like some form of hypnotism, and I +don't like that kind of thing. It could merit criminal prosecution." + +"There's no possible way I could have been hypnotized," said Fenwick. + +"These crystals--obviously it has something to do with them. But I +wonder what their game is, anyway? It's hard to see where they can think +they're headed." + +"I don't know," said Fenwick. "But you promised to show me the gimmick +if I couldn't find it in half a day. I spent a whole day out there +without finding anything." + +Baker slapped the desk in exasperation. "You're not really going to make +me go out there and look at this fool thing, are you? I know I made a +crazy promise, but I was sure you could find where they were hoaxing you +if you took one look at their setup. It's probably so obvious you just +stumbled right over it without even seeing it was there." + +"Possibly. But you're going to have to show me." + +"John, look--" + +"Or, I _might_ be willing to take that Clearwater research grant without +any more questions on either side." + +Baker thought of the repercussions that would occur in his own office, +let alone outside it, if he ever approved such a grant. "All right," he +sighed. "You've got me over a barrel. I'll drive my car. I may have to +stop at some offices on the other side of town." + +"I might be going on, rather than coming back to town," said Fenwick. "I +ought to have my car, too. Suppose I meet you out there?" + +"Good enough. Say one o'clock. I'm sure that will give us more time than +we need." + + * * * * * + +Baker was prompt. He arrived with an air of +let's-get-this-over-as-quick-as-possible. He nodded perfunctorily as +Ellerbee introduced his wife. He scarcely looked at Sam Atkins. + +"I hope you've got your demonstration all set up," he said. He glanced +at the darkening sky. "It looks like we might get some heavy rain this +afternoon." + +"We're all ready," said Ellerbee. "Sam will drive over to that little +hill on his farm, and we'll go out behind the barn." + +On the knoll, Baker accepted the crystal cube without looking at it. +Clenching it in his fist, he put his hand in his pocket. Fenwick guessed +he was trying to avoid any direct view and thus avoid the possibility of +hypnotic effects. This seemed pretty farfetched to Fenwick. + +Through field glasses Sam Atkins was seen to get out of his car and walk +to the top of the knoll. He stood a moment, then waved to signal his +readiness. + +"Press the crystal in your hand," Ellerbee said to Baker. "Direct your +attention toward Sam Atkins." + +Each of them had a cube of the same crystal. It was like a party line. +Fenwick pressed his only slightly. He had learned it didn't take much. +He saw Baker hesitate, then purse his lips as if in utter disgust, and +follow instructions. + +In a moment the image of Sam Atkins appeared before them. Regardless of +their position, the image gave the illusion of standing about four feet +in front of them. + +"Good afternoon, Dr. Baker," Sam Atkins said. + +Fenwick thought Baker was going to collapse. + +The director just stood for a moment, like a creature that had been +pole-axed. Then his color began to deepen and he turned with robot +stiffness. "Did you men hear anything? Fenwick ... did you hear ... did +you see?" + +"Sure," said Fenwick, grinning broadly. "Sam Atkins said good afternoon +to you. It would be polite if you answered him back." + +The image of Sam Atkins was still before them. He, too, was grinning +broadly. The grins infuriated Baker. + +"Mr. Atkins," said Baker. + +"Yes, Dr. Baker," said Sam Atkins. + +"If you hear me, wave your hands. I will observe you through the field +glasses." + +"The field glasses won't be necessary." + +Both the image before them, and the distant figure on the knoll were +seen to wave arms and gyrate simultaneously. For good measure, Sam +Atkins turned a cartwheel. + +Baker seemed to have partly recovered. "There seems to be a very +remarkable effect present here," he said cautiously. + +"Dr. Baker," Jim Ellerbee spoke earnestly, "I know you're skeptical. You +don't think the crystals do what I say they do. Even though you see it +with your own eyes you doubt that it is happening. I will do anything +possible to test this device to your satisfaction. Name the test that +will dispel your doubts and we will perform it!" + +"It's not entirely a question of demonstration, Mr. Ellerbee," said +Baker. "There are the theoretical considerations as well. The +mathematics you have submitted in support of your claim are not, to put +it mildly, sound." + +"I know. Sam keeps telling me that. He says we need an entirely new math +to handle it. Maybe we'll get around to that. But the important thing is +that we've got a working device." + +"Your mathematical basis _must_ be sound!" Baker's fervor returned. +Fenwick felt a sudden surge of pity for the director. + +The demonstration was repeated a dozen times more. Fenwick went over on +Sam Atkins' hill. He and Baker conversed privately. + +[Illustration: ... _"Presence," with the crystals, was not a physical +thing_ ...] + +"Do you see it yet?" Fenwick asked. + +"No, I'm afraid I don't!" Baker was snappish. "This is one of the most +devilish things I've ever come across!" + +"You don't think it's working the way Jim and Sam say it is?" + +"Of course not. The thing is utterly impossible! I am convinced a +hypnotic condition is involved, but I must admit I don't see how." + +"You may figure it out when you go through Ellerbee's lab." + + * * * * * + +Baker was obviously shaken. He spoke in subdued tones as Ellerbee +started the tour of the crystal lab again. Baker's eyes took in +everything. As the tour progressed he seemed to devour each new item +with frenzied intensity. He inspected the crystals through a microscope. +He checked the measurements of the thickness of the growing crystal +layers. + +The rain began while they were in the crystal lab. It beat furiously on +the roof of the laboratory building, but Baker seemed scarcely aware +that it was taking place. His eyes sought out every minute feature of +the building. Fenwick was sure he was finding nothing to confirm his +belief that the communicator crystals were a hoax. + +Fenwick hadn't realized it before, but he recognized now that it would +be a terrific blow to Baker if he couldn't prove the existence of a +hoax. + +Proof that the communicator crystals were all they were supposed to be +would be a direct frontal attack on the sacred Index. It would blast a +hole in Baker's conviction that nothing of value could come from the +crackpot fringe. And, not least of all, it would require Baker to issue +a research grant to Clearwater College. + +What else it might do to Baker, Fenwick could only guess, but he felt +certain Bill Baker would never be the same man again. + +As it grew darker, Baker looked up from the microscope through which he +had been peering. He glanced at the windows and the drenched countryside +beyond. "It's been raining," he said. + +Mary Ellerbee had already anticipated that the visitors would be staying +the night. She had the spare room ready for Baker and Fenwick before +dinner. While they ate in the big farmhouse kitchen, Ellerbee explained. +"It would be crazy to try to get down to the highway tonight. The +county's been promising us a new road for five years, but you see what +we've got. Even the oldest citizen wouldn't tackle it in weather like +this, unless it was an emergency. You put up for the night with us. +You'll get home just as fast by leaving in the morning, after the storm +clears. And it will be a lot more pleasant than spending the night stuck +in the mud somewhere--or worse." + +Baker seemed to accept the invitation as he ate without comment. To +Fenwick he appeared stunned by the events of the day, by his inability +to find a hoax in connection with the communicator crystals. + + * * * * * + +It was only when Baker and Fenwick were alone in the upstairs bedroom +that Baker seemed to stir out of his state of shock. + +"This is ridiculous, Fenwick!" he said. "I don't know what I'm doing +here. I can't possibly stay in this place tonight. I've got people to +see this evening, and appointments early in the morning." + +"It's coming down like cats and dogs again," said Fenwick. "You saw the +road coming in. It's a hog wallow by now. Your chance of getting through +would be almost zero." + +"It's a chance I have to take," Baker insisted. He started for the door. +"_You_ don't have to take it, of course." + +"I'm not going to!" said Fenwick. + +"But I must!" + +Fenwick followed him downstairs, still trying to persuade him of the +foolishness of driving back tonight. When Ellerbee heard of it he seemed +appalled. + +"It's impossible, Dr. Baker! I wouldn't have suggested your not +returning if there were any chance of getting through. I assure you +there isn't." + +"Nevertheless I must try. Dr. Fenwick will remain, and I will come back +tomorrow afternoon to complete our investigation. There are important +things I must attend to before then, however." + +Fenwick had the sudden feeling that Baker was in a flight of panic. His +words had an aimless stream-of-consciousness quality that contrasted +sharply with his usually precise speech. Fenwick was certain there was +nothing sufficiently important that it demanded his attention on a night +like this. He could have telephoned his family and had his wife cancel +any appointments. + +No, Fenwick thought, there was nothing Baker had to go _to_; rather, he +was running _from_. He was running in panicky fear from his failure to +pin down the hoax in the crystals. He was running, Fenwick thought, from +the fear that there might be no hoax. + +It seemed incredible that such an experience could trigger so strong a +reaction. Yet Fenwick was aware that Baker's attitude toward Ellerbee +and his device was not merely one aspect of Baker's character. His +attitude in these things _was_ his character. + +Fenwick dared not challenge Baker with these thoughts. He knew it would +be like probing Baker's flesh with a hot wire. There was nothing at all +that he could do to stop Baker's flight. + +Ellerbee insisted on loaning him a powerful flashlight and a hand +lantern, which Baker ridiculed but accepted. It was only after Baker's +tail-light had disappeared in the thick mist that Fenwick remembered he +still had the crystal cube in his coat pocket. + +"He's bound to get stuck and spend the night on the road," said +Ellerbee. "He'll be so upset he'll never come back to finish his +investigation." + +Fenwick suspected this was true. Baker would seal off every association +and reminder of the communicator crystals as if they were some infection +that would not heal. "There's no use beating your brains out trying to +get the NBSD to pay attention," Fenwick told Ellerbee. "You've got a +patent. Figure out some gadgety use and start selling the things. You'll +get all the attention you want." + +"I wanted to do it in a dignified way," said Ellerbee regretfully. + +_You, too_, Fenwick thought as he moved back up the stairs to the spare +bedroom. + +Fenwick undressed and got into bed. He tried to read a book he had +borrowed from Ellerbee, but it held no interest for him. He kept +thinking about Baker. What produced a man like Baker? What made him +tick, anyway? + +Fenwick had practically abandoned his earlier determination that +something had to be done about Baker. There was really nothing that +could be done about Baker, Bill Baker in particular--and the host of +assorted Bakers scattered throughout the world in positions of power and +importance, in general. + +They stretched on and on, back through the pages of history and time. +Jim Ellerbee understood the breed. He had quite rightly tagged Baker in +addressing him as "Dear Urban." Pope Urban, who persecuted the great +Galileo, had certainly been one of them. + +It wasn't that Baker was ignorant or stupid. He was neither. Fenwick +gave reluctant respect to his intelligence and his education. Baker was +quick-witted. His head was stuffed full of accurate scientific +information from diversified fields. + +But he refused to be jarred loose from his fixed position that +scientific breakthroughs could come from any source but the Established +Authority. The possibility that the crackpot fringe could produce such a +break-through panicked him. It _had_ panicked him. He was fleeing +dangerously now through the night, driven by a fear he did not know was +in him. + +Inflexibility. This seemed to be the characteristic that marked Baker +and his kind. Defender of the Fixed Position might well have been his +title. With all his might and power, Bill Baker defended the Fixed +Position he had chosen, the Fixed Position behind the wall of +Established Authority. + +A blind spot, perhaps? But it seemed more than mere blindness that kept +Baker so hotly defending his Fixed Position. It seemed as if, somehow, +he was aware of its vulnerability and was determined to fight off any +and all attacks, regardless of consequences. + +Fenwick didn't know. He felt as if it was less than hopeless, however, +to attempt to change Bill Baker. Any change would have to be brought +about by Baker himself. And that, at the moment, seemed far less likely +than the well-known snowball in Hades. + + * * * * * + +Fenwick knew he must have dozed off to sleep with the light still on in +the room and Ellerbee's unread book opened over his chest. He did not +know what time it was when he awoke. He was aware only of a suffocating +sensation as if some ghostly aura were within the room, filling it, +pressing down upon him. A wailing of agony and despair seemed to scratch +at his senses although he was certain there was no audible sound. And a +depression clutched at his soul as if death itself had suddenly walked +unseen through the closed door. + +Fenwick sat up, shivering in the sudden coolness of the room, but clammy +with sweat over his whole body. He had never experienced such sensations +before in his life. His stomach turned to a hard ball under the flow of +panic that surged through all his nerves. + +He forced himself to sit quietly for a moment, trying to release his +fear-tightened muscles. He relaxed the panic in his stomach and looked +slowly about the room. He could recall no stimulus in his sleep that had +produced such a reaction. He hadn't even been dreaming, as far as he +could tell. There was no recollection of any sound or movement within +the house or outside. + +He was calmer after a moment, but that sensation of death close at hand +would not go away. He would have been unable to describe it if asked, +but it was there. It filled the atmosphere of the room. It seemed to +emanate from-- + +Fenwick turned his head about. It was almost as if there was some +definite source from which the ghastly sensation was pouring over him. +The walls--the air of the room-- + +His eyes caught the crystal on the table by the bed. + +He could feel the force of death pouring from it. + +His first impulse was to pick up the thing and hurl it as far as he +could. Then in saner desperation he leaped from the bed and threw on his +clothes. He grabbed the crystal in his hand and ran out through the door +and down the stairs. + +Jim Ellerbee was already there in the living room. He was seated by the +old-fashioned library table, his hand outstretched upon it. In his hand +lay the counterpart of the crystal Fenwick carried. + +"Ellerbee!" Fenwick cried. "What's going on? What in Heaven's name is +coming out of these things?" + +"Baker," said Ellerbee. "He smashed up on the road somewhere. He's out +there dying." + +"Can you be sure? Then don't sit there, man! Let's get on our way!" + +Ellerbee shook his head. "He'll be dead before we can get there." + +"How do you know he cracked up, anyway? Can you read that out of the +crystal?" + +Ellerbee nodded. "He kept it in his pocket. It's close enough to him to +transmit the frantic messages of his dying mind." + +"Then we've got to go! No matter if we get there in time or not." + +Ellerbee shook his head again. "Sam is on his way over here. He's in +touch with Baker. He says he thinks he can talk Baker back." + +"_Talk_ him back? What do you mean by that?" + +Ellerbee hesitated. "I'm not sure. In some ways Sam understands a lot +more about these things than I do. He can do things with the crystals +that I don't understand. If he says he can talk Dr. Baker back, I think +maybe he can." + +"But we can't depend on that!" Fenwick said frantically. "Can't we get +on our way in the car and let Sam do what he thinks he can while we +drive? Maybe he can get Baker to hold on until we get him to a doctor." + +"You don't understand," said Ellerbee. "Dr. Baker has gone over the +edge. He's _dying_. I know what it's like. I looked into a dying mind +once before. There is nothing whatever that a doctor can do after an +organism starts dying. It's a definite process. Once started, it's +irreversible." + +"Then what does Sam--?" + +"Sam thinks he knows how to reverse it." + + * * * * * + +There wasn't much pain. Not as much as he would have supposed. He felt +sure there was terrible damage inside. He could feel the warmth of blood +welling up inside his throat. But the pain was not there. That was good. + +In place of pain, there was a kind of infinite satisfaction and a +growing peace. The ultimate magnitude of this peace, which he could +sense, was so great that it loomed like some blinding glory. + +This was death. The commitment and the decision had been made. But this +was better than any alternative. He could not see how there could have +been any question about it. + +He was lying on his back in the wet clay of a bank below the road. It +was raining, softly now, and he rather liked the gentle drop of it on +his face. Somewhere below him the hulk of his wrecked car lay on its +side. He could smell the unpleasant odor of gasoline. But all of this +was less than nothing in importance to him now. Somewhere in the back of +his mind was a remnant of memory of what he had been doing this day. He +remembered the name of John Fenwick, and the memory brought a faint +amusement to his bloody lips. There had been some differences between +him and John Fenwick. Those differences were also less than nothing, +now. All differences were wiped out. He gave himself up to the pleasure +of being borne along on that great current that seemed to be carrying +him swiftly to a quiet place. + +After a time, he remembered two other names, also. James Ellerbee and +Sam Atkins. He remembered a crystal, and it meant nothing. He remembered +that it was in his pocket and that for some time he had felt a warmth +from it, that was both pleasant and unpleasant. It was of no importance. +He might have reached for it and thrown it farther from him, but his arm +on that side was broken. + +He was glad that there was nothing--nothing whatever--that had any +magnitude of importance. Even his family--they were like fragments of a +long-ago dream. + +He lay waiting quietly and patiently for the swiftly approaching +destination of ultimate peace. He did not know how long it would take, +but he knew it could not be long, and even the journey was sweet. + +It was while he waited, letting his mind drift, that he became aware of +the intruder. In that moment, the pain boiled up in shrieking agony. + +He had thought himself alone. He wanted above all else to be alone. But +there was someone with him. He wasn't sure how he knew. He could simply +_feel_ the unwanted presence. He strained to see in the wet darkness. He +listened for muted sounds. There was nothing. Only the presence. + +"Go away!" he whispered hoarsely. "Go away, and leave me alone--whoever +you are." + +"No. Let me take you by the hand, William Baker. I have come to show you +the way back. I have come to lead you back." + +"Leave me alone! Whoever you are, leave me alone!" Baker was conscious +of his own voice screaming in the black night. And it was not only +terror of the unknown presence that made him scream, but the physical +pain of crushed bones and torn flesh was sweeping like a torrent through +him. + +"Don't be afraid of me. You know me. You remember, we met this +afternoon. Sam Atkins. You remember, Dr. Baker?" + +"I remember." Baker's voice was a painful gasp. "I remember. Now go away +and leave me alone. You can do nothing for me. I don't want you to do +anything for me." + + * * * * * + +Sam Atkins. The crystal. Baker wished he could reach the cursed thing +and hurl it away from him. That must be how Atkins was communicating +with him. Yes, somehow it was possible. He had found no trick, no +gimmick. Somehow, the miserable things worked. + +But what did Sam Atkins want? He had broken in on a moment that was as +private as a dream. There was nothing he could do. Baker was dying. He +knew he was dying. There was no medicine that could heal the battering +his body had taken. He had been slipping away into peace and release of +pain. He had no desire to have it interrupted. + +There was no more evidence of Sam Atkins' presence. It was there--and +Baker wished furiously that Atkins would let his death be a private +thing--but he was not interfering now. + +There was the faint suggestion of other presences, too. Baker thought he +could pick them out, Fenwick and Ellerbee. They were all gathered to +watch him die through the crystals. It was unkind of them to so +intrude--but it didn't really matter very much. He began drifting +pleasantly again. + +"William Baker." The soft voice of Sam Atkins shattered the peaceable +realm once more. "We must do some healing before we start back, Dr. +Baker. Give me your hand, and come with me, Dr. Baker, while we touch +these tissues and heal their breaks. Stay close to me and the pain will +not be more than you can endure." + +The night remained dark and there was no sound, but Baker's body arched +and twisted in panic as he fought against invisible hands that seemed to +touch with fleeting, exploratory passes over him. + +"I don't want to be healed," he whispered. "There is nothing that can be +done. I'm dying. I want to die! Can't you understand that? I want to +die! I don't want your help!" + +He had said it. And the shock of it jolted even him in the depths of his +half-conscious mind. Could a man really _want_ to die? + +Yes. + +He had forgotten what terror he had left so far behind. He knew only +that he wanted to move forever in the direction of the flowing peace. + +Like probing fingers, Sam Atkins' mind continued to touch him. It +scanned the broken organs of his body, and, in some kind of detached +way, Baker felt that he was accompanying Atkins on that journey of +exploration, even as Sam had asked. + +They searched the skeleton and found the splintered bones. They examined +the muscle structure and found the torn and shattered tissue. They +searched the dark recesses of his vital organs and came to injury that +Baker knew was hopeless. + +"You built this once," Sam Atkins' voice whispered. "You can build it +again. The materials are all here. The blood stream is still moving. The +nerve tissue will carry your instructions. I'll supply the +scaffolding--while you build--" + +He remembered. Baker examined the long-untouched record of when he had +done this before. He remembered the construction of cells, the building +of organs, the interconnection of nerve tissue. He felt an infinite +sadness at the present ruin. Yes--he could build again. + + * * * * * + +Sam Atkins' face was like that of a dead man. Across the table from him, +Jim Ellerbee and John Fenwick watched silently. Faintly, between them +was the crystal-projected image of Baker's body. + +Fenwick felt the cold touch of some mysterious unknown prickle his +scalp. Sam Atkins seemed remote and alien, like the practitioner of +ancient and forbidden arts. Fenwick found the question tumbling over and +over in his mind, who is this man? He felt as if the very life energy of +Sam Atkins was somehow flowing out through the crystal, across space, to +the distant broken body of Bill Baker and was supporting it while +Baker's own feeble energy was consumed in the rebuilding of his +shattered organs. + +[Illustration] + +Though Fenwick and Ellerbee held their own crystals, Sam had somehow +shut them out. They were in faint contact with Baker, but they could not +follow the fierce contact that Sam's mind held with him. + +Ellerbee's face showed worry and a trace of panic. He hesitantly reached +out to touch the immobile figure of Sam Atkins, who sat with closed eyes +and imperceptible breath. Fenwick sensed disaster. He arrested the +motion of Ellerbee's hand. + +"I think you could kill them both," he whispered. The life force of one +man, divided between two--it was not sufficient to cope with unexpected +shocks to either, now. + +Ellerbee desisted. "I've never seen anything like this before," he said. +"I don't know what Sam's doing--I don't know how he's doing it--" + +Fenwick looked sharply at Ellerbee. Ellerbee had discovered the +crystals, so he and Sam said. Yet Sam was able to do things with them +that Ellerbee could not conceive. Fenwick wondered just who was +responsible for the crystals. And he resolved that some day, when and if +Baker pulled out of this, he would learn something more about Sam +Atkins. + +Time moved beyond midnight and into the early morning hours of the day, +but this meant nothing to William Baker. He was in the midst of +eternity. Because the old pattern was there, and the ancient memories +were clear, his reconstruction moved at a pace that was limited only by +the materials available. When these grew scarce, Sam Atkins showed him +how to break down and utilize other structures that could be rebuilt +leisurely at a later time. There was remembered joy in the building and, +once started, Baker gave only idle wonder to the question of whether +this was more desirable than death. He did not know. This seemed the +right thing to do. + +In the presence of Sam Atkins everything he was doing seemed right, and +a lifetime of doubts, and errors, and fears seemed distant and vague. + +But Sam said suddenly, "It is almost finished. Just a little farther and +you'll have to go the rest of the way alone." + +Terror struck at Baker. He had reached a point where he was absolutely +sure he could _not_ go on alone without Sam's supporting presence. "You +tricked me!" Baker cried. "You tricked me! You didn't tell me I would +have to be reborn alone!" + +"Doesn't every man?" said Sam. "Is there any way to be born, except +alone?" + +Slowly, the world closed in about Baker. + +Light. Sounds. + +Wet. Cold. + +The impact of a million idiot minds. The coursing of cosmic-ray +particles. The wrenching of Earth's magnetic and gravitational fields. +Old and sluggish memories were renewed, memories meant to be buried for +all of his life. + +Baker felt as if he were suddenly running down a dark and immense +corridor. Behind were all the terrors spawned since the beginning of +time. Ahead were a thousand openings of light and safety. He raced for +the nearest and brightest and most familiar. + +"No," said Sam Atkins. "You cannot go that way again. It is the way you +went before--and it led to this--to a search for death. For you, it will +lead only to the same goal again." + +"I can't go on!" Baker cried. The terrors seemed to be swiftly closing +in. + +"Take my hand a moment longer," said Sam. "Inspect these more distant +paths. There are many of them that will be agreeable to you." + +Baker felt calmer now in the renewed presence of Sam Atkins. He passed +the branching pathway that Sam had forbidden, that had seemed so bright. +He sensed now why Sam had cautioned him against it. Far down, in the +depths of it, he glimpsed faintly a dark ugliness that he had not seen +before. He shuddered. + +Directly ahead there seemed to be the opening of a corridor of blazing +brightness. Baker's calmness increased as he approached. "This one," he +said. + +He heard nothing, but he sensed Sam Atkins' smile, and nod of approval. + +He remembered now for the first time why he had wanted to die. It was to +avoid the very terrors by which he had been pursued through the dark +corridor. All this had happened before, and he had gone down the pathway +Sam had forbidden. Somehow, like a circle, it had come back to this very +point, to this forgotten experience for which he had been willing to die +rather than endure again. + +It was very bewildering. He did not understand the meaning of it. But he +knew he had corrected a former error. He was back in the world. He was +alive again. + +Sam Atkins looked up at his companions through eyes that seemed all but +dead. "He's going to make it," he said. "We can get the car out and pick +up Baker now." + + * * * * * + +They used Sam's panel truck, which had a four-wheel drive and mud tires. +Nothing else could possibly get through. Fenwick left his own car at +Ellerbee's. + +It was still raining lightly as the truck sloshed and slewed through the +muck that was hardly recognizable now as a road. For an hour Sam fought +the wheel to hold the car approximately in the middle of the brownish +ooze that led them through the night. The three men sat in the cab. +Behind them, a litter and first-aid equipment had been rigged for Baker. +Sam told them nothing would be needed except soap and water, but Fenwick +and Ellerbee felt it impossible to go off without some other emergency +equipment. + +After an hour, Sam said, "He's close. Just around the next bend. That's +where his car went off." + +Baker loomed suddenly in the lights of the car. He was standing at the +edge of the road. He waved an arm wearily. + +Fenwick would not have recognized him. And for some seconds after the +car had come to a halt, and Baker stood weaving uncertainly in the beam +of the lights, Fenwick was not sure it was Baker at all. + +He looked like something out of an old Frankenstein movie. His clothes +were ripped almost completely away. Those remaining were stained with +blood and red clay, and soaked with rain. Baker's face was laced with a +network of scars as if he had been slashed with a shower of glass not +too long ago and the wounds were freshly healed. Blood was caked and +cracked on his face and was matted in his hair. + +[Illustration] + +He smiled grotesquely as he staggered toward the car door. "About time +you got here," he said. "A man could catch his death of cold standing +out here in this weather." + + * * * * * + +Dr. William Baker was quite sure he had no need of hospitalization, but +he let them settle him in a hospital bed anyway. He had some thinking to +do, and he didn't know of a better place to get it done. + +There was a good deal of medical speculation about the vast network of +very fresh scars on his body, the bones which X rays showed to have been +only very recently knit, and the violent internal injuries which gave +some evidence of their recent healing. Baker allowed the speculation to +go on without offering explanations. He let them tap and measure and +apply electrical gadgets to their heart's content. It didn't bother the +thinking he had to get done. + +Fenwick and Ellerbee came back the next day to see him. The two +approached the bed so warily that Baker burst out laughing. "Pull up +chairs!" he exclaimed. "Just because you saw me looking a shade less +than dead doesn't mean I'm a ghost now. Sit down. And where's Sam? Not +that I don't appreciate seeing your ugly faces, but Sam and I have got +some things to talk about." + +Ellerbee and Fenwick looked at each other as if each expected the other +to speak. + +"Well, what's the matter?" demanded Baker. "Nothing's happened to Sam, I +hope!" + +Fenwick spoke finally. "We don't know where Sam is. We don't think we'll +be seeing him again." + +"Why not?" Baker demanded. But in the back of his mind was the growing +suspicion that he knew. + +"After your--accident," said Fenwick, "I went back to the farm with +Ellerbee and Sam because I'd left my car there. I went back to bed to +try to get some more shut-eye, but the storm had started up again and +kept me awake. Just before dawn a terrific bolt of lightning seemed to +strike Sam's silo. Later, Jim went out to check on his cows and help his +man finish up the milking. + +"By mid-morning we hadn't heard anything from Sam and decided to go over +and talk to him about what we'd seen him do for you. I guess it was +eleven by the time we got there." + +[Illustration: ... _Lightning doesn't strike up from inside a silo! +That's something else_ ...] + +Jim Ellerbee nodded agreement. + +"When we got there," Fenwick went on, "we saw that the front door of the +house was open as if the storm had blown it in. We called Sam, but he +didn't answer, so we went on in. Things were a mess. We thought it was +because of the storm, but then we saw that drawers and shelves seemed to +have been opened hastily and cleaned out. Some things had been dropped +on the floor, but most of the stuff was just gone. + +"It was that way all through the house. Sam's bed hadn't been disturbed. +He had either not slept in it, or had gone to the trouble of making it +up even though he left the rest of the house in a mess." + +"Sounds like the place might have been broken into," said Baker. "Didn't +you notify the sheriff?" + +"Not after we'd seen what was outside, in back." + +"What was that?" + +"We wanted to see the silo after the lightning had struck it. Jim said +he'd always been curious about that silo. It was one of the best in the +county, but Sam never used it. He used a pit. + +"When we went out, all the cows were bellowing. They hadn't been milked. +Sam did all his own work. Jim called his own man to come and take care +of Sam's cows. Then we had a close look at the silo. It had split like a +banana peel opening up. It hardly seemed as if a bolt of lightning could +have caused it. We climbed over the broken pieces to look inside. It was +still warm in there. At least six hours after lightning--or whatever had +struck it, the concrete was still warm. The bottom and several feet of +the sides of the silo were covered with a glassy glaze." + +"No lightning bolt did that." + +"We know that now," said Fenwick. "But I had seen the flash of it +myself. Then I remembered that in my groggy condition that morning +something had seemed wrong about that flash of lightning. Instead of a +jagged tree of lightning that formed instantly, it had seemed like a +thin thread of light striking _upward_. I thought I must be getting +bleary-eyed and tried to forget it. In the silo, I remembered. I told +Jim. + +"We went back through the house once more. In Sam's bedroom, as if +accidently dropped and kicked partway under the bed, I found this. Take +a look!" + +Fenwick held out a small book. It had covers and pages as did any +ordinary book. But when Baker's fingers touched the book, something +chilled his backbone. + +The material had the feel and appearance of white leather--yet Baker had +the insane impression that the cells of that leather still formed a +living substance. He opened the pages. Their substance was as foreign as +that of the cover. The message--printing, or whatever it might be +called--consisted of patterned rows of dots, pin-head size, in color. It +reminded him of computer tape cut to some character code. He had the +impression that an eye might scan those pages and react as swiftly as a +tape-fed computer. + +Baker closed the book. "Nothing more?" he asked Fenwick. + +"Nothing. We thought maybe you had found out something else when he +worked to save your life." + + * * * * * + +Baker kept his eyes on the ceiling. "I found out a few things," he said. +"I could scarcely believe they were true. I have to believe after +hearing your story." + +"What did you find?" + +"Sam Atkins came from--somewhere else. He went back in the ship he had +hidden in the silo." + +"Where did he come from? What was he doing here?" + +"I don't know the name of the world he was from or where it is located. +Somewhere in this galaxy, is about all I can deduce from my impressions. +He was here on a scientific mission, a sociological study. He was +responsible for the crystals. I suppose you know that by now?" Baker +glanced at Ellerbee. + +Jim Ellerbee nodded. "I suspected for a long time that I was being led, +but I couldn't understand it. I thought I was doing the research that +produced the crystals, but Sam would drop a hint or a suggestion every +once in a while, that would lead off on the right track and produce +something fantastic. He knew where we were going, ahead of time. He led +me to believe that we were exploring together. Do you know why he did +this?" + +"Yes," said Baker. "It was part of his project. The project consisted of +a study of human reaction to scientific processes which our scientific +culture considered impossible. He was interested in measuring our +flexibility and reaction to such introductions." + +Baker smiled grimly. "We sure gave him his money's worth, didn't we! We +really reacted when he brought out his little cubes. I'd like to read +the report he writes up!" + +"Why did he leave so suddenly?" asked Fenwick. "Was he through?" + +"No, that's the bad part of it. My reaction to the crystals was a shock +that sent me into a suicidal action--" + +Fenwick stared at him, shocked. "You didn't--" + +"But I did," said Baker calmly. "All very subconsciously, of course, but +I did try to commit suicide. The crystals triggered it. I'll explain how +in a minute, but since Sam Atkins was an ethical being he felt the +responsibility for what had happened to me. He had to reveal himself to +the extent of saving my life--and helping me to change so that the +suicidal drive would not appear again. He did this, but it revealed too +much of himself and destroyed the chance of completing his program. When +he gets back home, he's really going to catch hell for lousing up the +works. It's too bad." + +Jim Ellerbee let out a long breath. "Sam Atkins--somebody from another +world--it doesn't seem possible. What things he could have taught us if +he'd stayed!" + +Fenwick wondered why it had to have been Baker to receive this +knowledge. Baker, the High Priest of the Fixed Position, the ambassador +of Established Authority. Why couldn't Sam Atkins--or whatever his real +name might be--have whispered just a few words of light to a man willing +to listen and profit? His bowels felt sick with the impact of +opportunity forever lost. + + * * * * * + +"How did the crystals trigger a suicidal reaction?" asked Fenwick +finally, as if to make conversation more than anything else. + +Baker's face seemed to glow. "That's the really important thing I +learned from Sam. I learned that about me--about all of us. It's hard to +explain. I experienced it--but you can only hear about it." + +"We're listening," said Fenwick dully. + +"I saw a picture of a lathe in a magazine a few months ago," said Baker +slowly. "You can buy one of these lathes for $174,000, if you want one. +It's a pretty fancy job. The lathe remembers what it does once, and +afterwards can do it again without any instructions. + +"The lathe has a magnetic tape memory. The operator cuts the first piece +on the lathe, and the tape records all the operations necessary for that +production. After that, the operator needs only to insert the metal +stock and press the start button. + +"There could be a million memories in storage, and the lathe could draw +on any one of them to repeat what it had done before at any time in its +history." + +"I don't see what this has got to do with Sam and you," said Fenwick. + +Baker ignored him. "A long time ago a bit of life came into existence. +It had no memory, because it was the first. But it faced the universe +and made decisions. That's the difference between life and nonlife. Did +you know that, Fenwick? The capacity to make decisions without +pre-programming. The lathe is not alive because it must be +pre-programmed by the operator. We used to say that reproduction was the +criterion of life, but the lathe could be pre-programmed to build a +duplicate of itself, complete with existing memories, if that were +desired, but that would not make it a living thing. + +"Spontaneous decision. A single cell can make a simple binary choice. +Maybe nothing more complex than to be or not to be. The decision may be +conditioned by lethal circumstances that permit only a 'not' decision. +Nevertheless, a decision _is_ made, and the cell shuts down its life +processes in the very instant of death. They are not shut down for it. + +"In the beginning, the first bit of life faced the world and made +decisions, and memory came into being. The structures of giant protein +molecules shifted slightly in those first cells and became a memory of +decisions and encounters. The cells split and became new pairs carrying +in each part giant patterned molecules of the same structure. These were +memory tapes that grew and divided and spread among all life until they +carried un-numbered billions of memories. + +"Molecular tapes. Genes. The memory of life on earth, since the +beginning. Each new piece of life that springs from parent life comes +equipped with vast libraries of molecular tapes recording the +experiences of life since the beginning. + +"Life forms as complex as mammals could not exist without this tape +library to draw upon. The bodily mechanisms could not function if they +came into existence without the taped memories out of the ages, +explaining why each organ was developed and how it should function. +Sometimes, part of the tapes _are_ missing, and the organism, if it +endures, must live without instructions for some function. One human +lifetime is too infinitesimally small to relearn procedures that have +taken aeons to develop. + +"Just as the lathe operator has a choice of tapes which will cause the +lathe to function in different ways, so does new life have a choice. The +accumulated instructions and wisdom of the whole race may be available, +except for those tapes which have been lost or destroyed through the +ages. New life has a choice from that vast library of tapes. In its +inexperience, it relies on the parentage for the selection of many +proven combinations, and so we conclude certain characteristics are +'dominant' or 'inherited,' but we haven't been able to discover the +slightest reason why this is so. + +"A selection of things other than color of eyes, the height of growth to +be attained, the shape of the body must also be made. A choice of modes +of facing the exterior world, a choice of stratagems to be used in +attaining survival and security in that world, must be made. + +"And there is one other important factor: Mammalian life is created in a +universe where only life exists. The mammal in the womb does not know of +the existence of the external universe. Somewhere, sometime, the first +awareness of this external universe arises. In the womb. Outside the +womb. Early in fetal life, or late. When and where this awareness comes +is an individual matter. But when it comes, it arrives with lethal +impact. + +"Awareness brings a million sensory invasions--chemical, physical, +extrasensory--none of them understood, all of them terrifying. + +"This terrible fear that arises in this moment of awareness and +non-understanding is almost sufficient to cause a choice of death rather +than life at this point. Only because of the developed toughness, +acquired through the aeons, does the majority of mammalian life choose +to continue. + +"In this moment, choices must be made as to how to cope with the +external world, how to understand it so as to diminish the fear it +inspires. The library of genetic tapes is full of possible solutions. +Parental experience is examined, too, and the very sensory impacts that +are the source of the terror are inspected to a greater or lesser extent +to see how they align with taped information. + +"A very basic choice is then made. It may not be a single decision, but, +rather, a system of decisions all based on some fundamental underlying +principle. And the choice may not be made in an instant. How long a time +it may occupy I do not know. + +"When the decision has been made, reaction between the individual and +the external universe begins and understanding begins to flow into the +data storage banks. As data are stored, and successful solutions found +in the encounter with the world, fear diminishes. Some kind of +equilibrium is eventually reached, in which the organism decides how +much fear it is willing to tolerate to venture farther into areas of the +unknown, and how much it is willing to limit its experience because of +this fear. + +"When the decision has been made, and the point of equilibrium chosen, a +personality exists. The individual has shaped himself to face the world. + +"And nothing short of a Heavenly miracle will ever change that shape!" + +"You have said nothing about how the crystal caused you to attempt +suicide," said Fenwick. + +"The crystal invalidated the molecular tape I had chosen to provide my +foundation program for living. The tape was completely shattered, +brought to an end. There was nothing left for me to go on." + + * * * * * + +"Wait a minute!" said Fenwick. "Even supposing this could happen as you +describe it, other programs could be selected out of the great number +you have described." + +"Quite true. But do you know what happens to an adult human being when +the program on which his entire life is patterned is destroyed?" + +Fenwick shook his head. "What is it like?" + +"It's like it was in the beginning, in that moment of first awareness of +the external universe. He is aware of the universe, but has no +understanding of it. Previous understanding--or what he thought was +understanding--has been invalidated, destroyed. The drive to keep +living, that was present in that first moment of awareness, has +weakened. The strongest impulse is to escape the terror that follows +awareness without understanding. Death is the quickest escape. + +"This is why men are inflexible. This is why the Urbans cannot endure +the Galileos. This is why the Bill Bakers cannot face the Jim Ellerbees. +That was what Sam Atkins wanted to find out. + +"If a man should decide his basic program is invalid and decide to +choose another, he would have to face again the terror of awareness of a +world in which understanding does not exist. He would have to return to +that moment of first awareness and select a new program in that moment +of overwhelming fear. Men are not willing to do this. They prefer a +program--a personality--that is defective, that functions with only a +fraction of the efficiency it might have. They prefer this to a basic +change of programs. Only when a program is rendered absolutely +invalid--as mine was by the crystal communicator--is the program +abandoned. When that happens, the average man drives his car into a +telephone pole or a bridge abutment, or he steps in front of a truck at +a street intersection. I drove into a gully in a storm." + +"All this would imply that the tape library is loaded with genetic +programs that contain basic defects!" said Fenwick. + +Baker hesitated. "That's not quite true," he said finally. "The library +of molecular tapes does contain a great many false solutions. But they +are false not so much because they are defective as because they are +obsolete. All of them worked at one time, under some set of +circumstances, however briefly. Those times and circumstances may have +vanished long since." + +"Then why are they chosen? Why aren't they simply passed over?" + +"Because the individual organism lacks adequate data for evaluating the +available programs. In addition, information may be presented to him +which says these obsolete programs are just the ones to use." + +Fenwick leaned against the bed and shook his head. "How could a crazy +thing like that come about?" + +"Cultures become diseased," said Baker. "Sparta was such a one in +ancient times. A more psychotic culture has scarcely existed anywhere, +yet Sparta prevailed for generations. Ancient Rome is another example. +The Age of Chivalry. Each of these cultures was afflicted with a +different disease. + +"These diseases are epidemic. Individuals are infected before they +emerge from the womb. In the Age of Chivalry this cultural disease held +out the data that the best life program was based on the concept of +Honor. Honor that could be challenged by a mistaken glance, an +accidental touch in a crowd. Honor that had to be defended at the +expense of life itself. + +"Pure insanity. Yet how long did it persist?" + +"And our culture?" said Fenwick. "There is such a sickness in our +times?" + + * * * * * + +Baker nodded. "There's a disease in our times. A cultural disease you +might call the Great Gray Plague. It is a disease which premises that +safety, security, and effectiveness in dealing with the world may be +obtained by agreement with the highest existing Authority. + +"This premise was valid in the days when disobedience to the Head Man +meant getting lost in a bog or eaten by a saber-toothed tiger. Today it +is more than obsolete. It is among the most vicious sicknesses that have +ever infected any culture." + +"And you were sick with it." + +"I was sick with it. You remember I said a molecular program is chosen +partly on the basis of data presented by parental sources and the spears +of invasion from the external world. This data that came to me from both +sources said that I could deal with the world by yielding to Authority, +by surrounding myself with it as with a shell. It would protect me. I +would have stature. My world-problems would be solved if I chose this +pattern. + +"I chose it well. In our culture there are two areas of Authority, one +in government, one in science. I covered myself both ways. I became a +Government Science Administrator. You just don't get any more +authoritative than that in our day and time!" + +"But not everyone employs this as a basic premise!" exclaimed Fenwick. + +"No--not everyone, fortunately. In that, may be our salvation. In all +times there have been a few infected individuals--Pope Urban, for +example. But in his time the culture was throwing off such ills and was +surging forward under the impetus of men like Galileo. + +"In our own time we are on the other end of the stick. We are just +beginning to sink into this plague; it has existed in epidemic form only +a few short decades. But look how it has spread! Our civil institutions, +always weak to such infection, have almost completely succumbed. Our +educational centers are equally sick. Approach them with a new idea and +no Ph. D. and see what happens. Remember the Greek elevator engineer who +did that a few years ago? He battered his way in by sheer force. It was +the only way. He became a nuclear scientist. But for every one of his +kind a thousand others are defeated by the Plague." + +Fenwick was grinning broadly. He suddenly laughed aloud. "You must be +crazy in the head, Bill. You sound just like me!" + +Baker smiled faintly. "You are one of the lucky ones. You and Jim. It +hasn't hit you. And there are plenty of others like you. But they are +defeated by the powerful ones in authority, who have been infected. + +"It's less than fifty years since it hit us. It may have five hundred +years to run. I think we'll be wiped out by it before then. There must +be something that can be done, some way to stamp it out." + +"Well," said Fenwick. "You could give Clearwater enough to get us on our +feet and running. That would be a start in the right direction." + +"An excellent start," said Baker. "The only trouble is you asked for +less than half of what you need. As soon as I get back to the office a +grant for what you need will be on its way." + + * * * * * + +William Baker stayed in the hospital two more days. Apart from his +family, he asked that no visitors be admitted. He felt as if he were a +new-born infant, facing the world with the knowledge of a man--but +innocent of experience. + +He remembered the days before the accident. He remembered how he dealt +with the world in those days. But the methods used then were as +impossible to him now as if he were paralyzed. The new methods, found in +that bright portal to which Sam Atkins had helped guide him, were +untried. He knew they were right. But he had never used them. + +He found it difficult to define the postulates he had chosen. The more +he struggled to identify them, the more elusive they seemed to become. +When he gave up the struggle he found the answer. He had chosen a +program that held no fixed postulates. It was based on a decision to +face the world as it came. + +He was not entirely sure what this meant. The age-old genetic wisdom was +still available to guide him. But he was committed to no set path. Fresh +decisions would be required at every turn. + +A single shot of vaccine could not stem an epidemic. His immunity to the +sickness of his culture could not immunize the entire populace. Yet, he +felt there was something he could do. He was just not sure what it was. + +What could a single man do? In other times, a lone man had been enough +to overturn an age. But William Baker did not feel such heroic +confidence in his own capacity. + +He was not alone, however. There were the John Fenwicks and the Jim +Ellerbees who were immune to the great Plague. It was just that William +Baker was probably the only man in the world who had ever been infected +so completely and then rendered immune. That gave him a look at both +sides of the fence, which was an advantage no one else shared. + +There was something that stuck in his mind, something that Sam Atkins +had said that night when Baker had been reborn. He couldn't understand +it. Sam Atkins had said of the molecular program tape that had been +broken: When you cease to be fearful of Authority, you become Authority. + +The last thing in the whole world William Baker wanted now was to be +Authority. But the thought would not leave his mind. Sam Atkins did not +say things that had no meaning. + + * * * * * + +Baker's return to the office of NBSD was an occasion for outpouring of +the professional affection which his staff had always tendered him. He +knew that there had been a time when this had given him a great deal of +satisfaction. He remembered that fiftieth birthday party. + +Looking back, it seemed as if all that must have happened to some other +man. He felt like a double of himself, taking over positions and +prerogatives in which he was a complete impostor. + +This was going to be harder than he had anticipated, he thought. + +Pehrson especially, it appeared, was going to be difficult. The +administrative assistant came into the office almost as soon as Baker +was seated at his desk. "It's very good to have you back," said Pehrson. +"I think we've managed to keep things running while you've been gone, +however. We have rejected approximately one hundred applications during +the past week." + +Baker grunted. "And how many have you approved?" + +"Approval would have had to await your signature, of course." + +"O.K., how many are awaiting my signature?" + +"It has been impossible to find a single one which had a high enough +Index to warrant your consideration." + +"I see," said Baker. "So you've taken care of the usual routine without +any help from me?" + +"Yes," said Pehrson. + +"There's one grant left over from before I was absent. We must get that +out of the way as quickly as possible." + +"I don't recall any that were pending--" said Pehrson in apology. + +"Clearwater College. Get me the file, will you?" + +Pehrson didn't know for sure whether the chief was joking or not. He +looked completely serious. Pehrson felt sick at the sudden thought that +the accident may have so injured the chief's mind that he was actually +serious. + +He sparred. "The Clearwater College file?" + +"That's what I said. Bring a set of approval forms, too." + +Pehrson managed to get out with a placid mask on his face, but it broke +as soon as he reached the safety of his own office. It wasn't possible +that Baker was serious! The check that went out that afternoon convinced +him it was so. + +When Pehrson left the office, Baker got up and sauntered to the window, +looking out over the smoke-gray buildings of Washington. The Index, he +smiled, remembering it. Five years he and Pehrson had worked on that. It +had seemed like quite a monumental achievement when they considered it +finished. It had never been really finished, of course. Continuous +additions and modifications were being made. But they had been very +proud of it. + +Baker wondered now, however, if they had not been very shortsighted in +their application of the Index. He sensed, stirring in the back of his +mind, not fully defined, possibilities that had never appeared to him +before. + +His speculations were interrupted by Doris. She spoke on the interphone, +still in the sweetly sympathetic tone she had adopted for her greetings +that morning. Baker suspected this would last at least a full week. + + * * * * * + +"Dr. Wily is on the phone. He would like to know if you'd mind his +coming in this afternoon. Shall I make an appointment or would you +rather postpone these interviews for a few days? Dr. Wily would +understand, of course." + +"Tell him to come on up whenever he's ready," said Baker. "I'm not doing +much today." + +President George H. Wily, Ph. D., D.Sc., of Great Eastern University. +Wily was one of his best customers. + +Baker guessed that he had given Wily somewhere around twelve or thirteen +million dollars over the past decade. He didn't know exactly what Wily +had done with all of it, but one didn't question Great Eastern's use of +its funds. Certainly only the most benevolent use would be made of the +money. + +Baker reflected on his associations with Wily. His satisfaction had been +unmeasurable in those exquisite moments when he had had the pleasure of +handing Wily a check for two or three million dollars at a time. In +turn, Wily had invited him to the great, commemorative banquets of Great +Eastern. He had presented Baker to the Alumni and extolled the +magnificent work Baker was doing in the advancement of the cause of +Science. It had been a very pleasant association for both of them. + +The door opened and Doris ushered Wily into the room. He came forward +with outstretched hands. "My dear Baker! Your secretary said you had no +objection to my coming up immediately, so I took advantage of it. I +didn't hear about your terrible accident until yesterday. It's so good +to know that you were not more seriously hurt." + +"Thanks," said Baker. "It wasn't very bad. Come and sit down." + +Wily was a rather large, beetle-shaped man. He affected a small, graying +beard that sometimes had tobacco ashes in it. + +"Terrible loss to the cause of Science if your accident had been more +serious," Wily was saying. "I don't know of anyone who occupies a more +critical position in our nation's scientific advance than you do." + +This was what had made him feel safe, secure, able to cope with the +problems of the world, Baker reflected. Wily represented Authority, the +highest possible Authority in the existing scientific culture. + +But it had worked both ways, too. Baker had supplied a similar +counterpart for Wily. His degrees matched Wily's own. He represented +both Science and Government. The gift of a million dollars expressed +confidence on the part of the Government that Wily was on the right +track, that his activity was approved. + +A sort of mutual admiration society, Baker thought. + +"I suppose you are interested in the progress on your application for +renewal of Great Eastern's grants," said Baker. + +Wily waved the subject away with an emphatic gesture. "Not business +today! I simply dropped in for a friendly chat after learning of your +accident. Of course, if there is something to report, I wouldn't mind +hearing it. I presume, however, the processing is following the usual +routine." + +"Not quite," said Baker slowly. "An increasing flood of applications is +coming in, and I'm finding it necessary to adopt new processing methods +to cope with the problem." + +"I can understand that," said Wily. "And one of the things I have always +admired most about your office is your ability to prevent wastage of +funds by nonqualified people. Qualifications in the scientific world are +becoming tighter every day. You have no idea how difficult it is to get +people with adequate backgrounds today. Men of stature and authority +seem to be getting rarer all the time. At any rate, I'm sure we are +agreed that only the intellectual elite must be given access to these +funds of your Bureau, which are limited at best." + +Baker continued to regard Wily across the desk for a long moment. Wily +was one of them, he thought. One of the most heavily infected of all. +Surround yourself with Authority. Fold it about you like a shell. Never +step beyond the boundaries set by Authority. This was George H. Wily, +President of Great Eastern University. This was a man stricken by the +Great Gray Plague. + +"I need a report," said Baker. "For our new program of screening I need +a report of past performance under our grants. The last two years would +be sufficient, I think, from Great Eastern." + +Wily was disturbed. He frowned and hesitated. "I'm sure we could supply +such a report," he said finally. "There's never been any question--" + +"No question at all," said Baker. "I just need to tally up the +achievements made under recent grants. I shall also require some new +information for the Index. I'll send forms as soon as they're ready." + +"We'll be more than glad to co-operate," said Wily. "It's just that +concrete achievement in a research program is sometimes hard to pin +point, you know. So many intangibles." + +"I know," said Baker. + +When Wily was gone, Baker continued sitting at his desk for a long time. +He wished fervently that he could talk with Sam Atkins for just five +minutes now. And he hoped Sam hadn't gotten too blistered by his mentors +when he returned home after fluffing the inquiry he was sent out on. + +There was no chance, of course, that Baker would ever be able to talk +with Sam again. That one fortuitous encounter would have to do for a +lifetime. But Sam's great cryptic statement was slowly beginning to make +sense: When you cease to be fearful of Authority, you become Authority. + +Neither Baker or Wily, or any of the members of Wily's lock-step staff +were Authority. Rather, they all gave obeisance to the intangible +Authority of Science, and stood together as self-appointed vicars of +that Authority, demanding penance for the slightest blasphemy against +it. And each one stood in living terror of such censure. + +The same ghost haunted the halls of Government. The smallest civil +servant, in his meanest incivility, could invoke the same reverence for +that unseen mantle of Authority that rested, however falsely, on his +thin shoulders. + +The ghost existed in but one place, the minds of the victims of the +Plague. William Baker had ceased to recognize or give obeisance to it. +He was beginning to understand the meaning of Sam Atkins' words. + +He was quite sure the grants to Great Eastern were going to diminish +severely. + + * * * * * + +Within six months, the output from Clearwater College was phenomenal. +The only string that Baker had attached to his grants was the provision +that the National Bureau of Scientific Development be granted the +privilege of announcing all new inventions, discoveries, and significant +reports. This worked to the advantage of both parties. It gave the +college the prestige of association in the press with the powerful +Government agency, and it gave Baker the association with a prominent +scientific discovery. + +During the first month of operation under the grant, Fenwick appointed a +half dozen "uneducated" professors to his physical science staff. These +were located with Baker's help because they had previously applied to +NBSD for assistance. + +The announcement of the developments of the projects of these men was a +kind of unearned windfall for both Baker and Fenwick because most of the +work had already been done in garages and basements. But no one objected +that it gave both Clearwater and NBSD a substantial boost in the public +consciousness. + +During this period, Baker found three other small colleges of almost +equal caliber with Clearwater. He made substantial grants to all of them +and watched their staffs grow in number and quality of background that +would have shocked George Wily into apoplexy. Baker's announcements of +substantial scientific gains became the subject of weekly press +conferences. + +And also, during this time, he lowered the ax on Great Eastern and two +other giants whose applications were pending. He cut them to twenty per +cent of what they were asking. A dozen of the largest industrial firms +were accorded similar treatment. + +Through all this, Pehrson moved like a man in a nightmare. His first +impulse had been to resign. His second was to report the gross +mismanagement of NBSD to some appropriate congressman. Before he did +either of these things the reports began to come in from Clearwater and +other obscure points. + +Pehrson was a man in whom allegiance was easily swayed. His loyalty was +only for the top man of any hierarchy, and he suddenly began to regard +Baker with an amazed incredulity. It seemed akin to witchcraft to be +able to pull out works of near genius from the dross material Baker had +been supporting with his grants. Pehrson wasn't quite sure how it had +been done although he had been present throughout the whole process. He +only knew that Baker had developed a kind of prescience that was nothing +short of miraculous, and from now on he was strictly a Baker man. + +Baker was happy with this outcome. The problem of Pehrson had been a +bothersome one. Civil Service regulations forbade his displacement. +Baker had been undecided how to deal with him. With Pehrson's acceptance +of the new methods, the entire staff swung behind Baker, and the +previous grumblings and complaints finally ceased. He stood on top in +his own office, at least, Baker reflected. + +George H. Wily was not happy, however. He waited two full days after +receiving the announcement of NBSD's grant for the coming year. He +consulted with his Board of Regents and then took a night plane down to +Washington to see Baker. + +He was coldly formal as he entered Baker's office. Baker shook his hand +warmly and invited him to sit down. + +"I was hoping you'd drop in again when you came to town," said Baker. "I +was sorry we had to ask you for so much new information, but I +appreciate your prompt response." + +Wily's eyes were frosty. "Is that why you gave us only two hundred +thousand?" he asked. + +Baker spread his hands. "I explained when you were here last that we +were getting a flood of applications. We have been forced to distribute +the money much more broadly than in other years. There is only so much +to go around, you know." + +"There is just as much as you've ever had," snapped Wily. "I've checked +on your overall appropriation. And there is no increase in qualified +applicants. There is a decrease, if anything. + +"I've done a little checking on the grants you've made, Baker. I'd like +to see you defend your appropriation for that miserable little school +called Clearwater College. I made a detailed study of their staff. They +haven't a single qualified man. Not one with a background any better +than that of your elevator operator!" + +Baker looked up at the ceiling. "I remember an elevator man who became +quite a first rate scientist." + +Wily glared, waiting for explanation, then snorted. "Oh, _him_--" + +"Yes, _him_," said Baker. + +"That doesn't explain your wasting of Government funds on such an +institution as Clearwater. It doesn't explain your grants to--" + +"Let me show you what does explain my grants," said Baker. "I have what +I call the Index--with a capital I, you know--" + +"I don't care anything about your explanations or your Index!" Wily +exclaimed. "I'm here to serve notice that I represent the nation's +interest as well as that of Great Eastern. And I am not going to stand +by silently while you mismanage these sacred funds the way you have +chosen to do in recent months. I don't know what's happened to you, +Baker. You were never guilty of such mistakes before. But unless you can +assure me that the full normal grant can be restored to Great Eastern, +I'm going to see that your office is turned inside out by the Senate +Committee on Scientific Development, and that you, personally, are +thrown out." + +Wily glared and breathed heavily after his speech. He sat waiting for +Baker's answer. + +Baker gave it when Wily had stopped panting and turned to drumming his +fingers on the desk. "Unless your record of achievement is better this +year than it has been in recent years, Great Eastern may not get any +allotment at all next year," he said quietly. + +Wily shaded toward deep red, verging on purple, as he rose. "You'll +regret this, Baker! This office belongs to American Science. I refuse to +see it desecrated by your gross mismanagement! Good day!" + +[Illustration] + +Baker smiled grimly as Wily stormed out. Then he picked up the phone and +asked Doris to get Fenwick at Clearwater. When Fenwick finally came on, +Baker said, "Wily was just here. I expected he would be the one. This is +going to be it. Send me everything you've got for release. We're going +to find out how right Sam Atkins was!" + +He called the other maverick schools he'd given grants, and the penny +ante commercial organizations he'd set on their feet. He gave them the +same message. + +It wasn't going to be easy or pleasant, he reflected. The biggest guns +of Scientific Authority would be trained on him before this was over. + + * * * * * + +Drew Pearson had the word even before it reached Baker. Baker read it at +breakfast a week after Wily's visit. The columnist said, "The next big +spending agency to come under the fire of Congressional Investigation is +none other than the high-echelon National Bureau of Scientific +Development. Dr. William Baker, head of the Agency, has been accused of +indiscriminate spending policies wholly unrelated to the national +interest. The accusers are a group of elite universities and top +manufacturing organizations that have benefited greatly from Baker's +handouts in years past. This year, Baker is accused of giving upwards of +five million dollars to crackpot groups and individuals who have no +standing in the scientific community whatever. + +"If these charges are true, it is difficult to see what Dr. Baker is up +to. For many years he has had an enviable record as a tight-fisted, +hard-headed administrator of these important funds. Congress intends to +find out what's going on. The watchdog committee of Senator Landrus is +expected to call an investigation early next week." + +Baker was notified that same afternoon. + + * * * * * + +Senator Landrus was a big, florid man, who moved about a committee +hearing chamber with the ponderous smoothness of a luxury liner. He was +never visited by a single doubt about the rightness of his chosen +course--no matter how erratic it might appear to an onlooker. His faith +in his established legislative procedures and in the established tenets +of Science was complete. Since he wore the shield of both camps, his +confidence in the path of Senator Robert Landrus was also unmarred by +questions. + +Baker had faced him many times, but always as an ally. Now, recognizing +him as the enemy, Baker felt some small qualms, not because he feared +Landrus, but because so much was at stake in this hearing. So much +depended on his ability to guide the whims and uncertainties of this +mammoth vessel of Authority. + +There was an unusual amount of press interest in what might have seemed +a routine and unspectacular hearing. No one could recall a previous +occasion when the recipients had challenged a Government handout agency +regarding the size of the handouts. While Landrus made his opening +statement several of the reporters fiddled with the idea of a headline +that said something about biting the hand that feeds. It wouldn't quite +come off. + +Wily was invited to make his statement next, which he did with icy +reserve, never once looking in Baker's direction. He was followed by two +other university presidents and a string of laboratory directors. The +essence of their remarks was that Russia was going to beat the pants off +American researchers, and it was all Baker's fault. + +This recital took up all of the morning and half the afternoon of the +first day. A dozen or so corporation executives were next on the docket +with complaints that their vast facilities were being hamstrung by +Baker's sudden switch of R & D funds to less qualified agents. Baker +observed that the ones complaining were some of those who had never +spent a nickel on genuine research until the Government began buying it. +He knew that Landrus had not observed this fact. It would have to be +called to the senator's attention. + +By the end of the day, Landrus looked grave. It was obvious that he +could see nothing but villainy in Baker's recent performance. It had +been explained to him in careful detail by some of the most powerful men +in the nation. Baker was certainly guilty of criminal negligence, if not +more, in derailing these funds which Congress had intended should go to +the support of the nation's scientific leaders. Landrus felt a weary +depression. He hadn't really believed it would turn out this bad for +Baker, for whom he had had a considerable regard in times past. + +"You have heard the testimony of these witnesses," Landrus said to +Baker. "Do you wish to reply or make a statement of your own, Dr. +Baker?" + +"I most certainly do!" said Baker. + +Landrus didn't see what was left for Baker to say. "Testimony will +resume tomorrow at nine a.m.," he said. "Dr. Baker will present his +statement at that time." + + * * * * * + +The press thought it looked bad for Baker, too. Some papers accused him +openly of attempting to sabotage the nation's research program. Wily and +his fellows, and Landrus, were commended for catching this defection +before it progressed any further. + +Baker was well aware he was in a tight spot, and one which he had +deliberately created. But as far as he could see, it was the only chance +of utilizing the gift that Sam Atkins had left him. He felt confident he +had a fighting chance. + +His battery of supporters had not even been noticed in the glare of +Wily's brilliant assembly, but Fenwick was there, and Ellerbee. +Fenwick's fair-haired boy, George, and a half dozen of his new recruits +were there. Also present were the heads of the other maverick schools +like Clearwater, and the presidents--some of whom doubled as +janitors--of the minor corporations Baker had sponsored. + +Baker took the stand the following morning, armed with his charts and +displays. He looked completely confident as he addressed Landrus and the +assembly. + +"Gentlemen--and ladies--" he said. "The corner grocery store was one of +America's most familiar and best loved institutions a generation or two +ago. In spite of this, it went out of business because we refused to +support it. May I ask why we refused to continue to support the corner +grocery? + +"The answer is obvious. We began to find better bargains elsewhere, in +the supermarket. As much as we regret the passing of the oldtime grocer +I'm sure that none of us would seriously suggest we bring him back. + +"For the same reason I suggest that the time may have come to reconsider +the bargains we have been getting in scientific developments and +inventions. Americans have always taken pride in driving a good, hard, +fair bargain. I see no reason why we should not do the same when we go +into the open market to buy ideas. + +"Some months ago I began giving fresh consideration to the product we +were buying with the millions of dollars in grants made by NBSD. It was +obvious that we were buying an impressive collection of shiny, glass and +metal laboratories. We were buying giant pieces of laboratory equipment +and monstrous machines of other kinds. We were getting endless +quantities of fat reports--they fill thousands of miles of microfilm. + +"Then I discovered an old picture of what I am sure all unbiased +scientists will recognize as the world's greatest laboratory--greatest +in terms of measurable output. I brought this picture with me." + +Baker unrolled the first of his exhibits, a large photographic blowup. +The single, whitehaired figure seated at a desk was instantly +recognized. Wily and his group glanced at the picture and glared at +Baker. + +"You recognize Dr. Einstein, of course," said Baker. "This is a +photograph of him at work in his laboratory at the Institute for +Advanced Study at Princeton." + +"We are all familiar with the appearance of the great Dr. Einstein," +said Landrus. "But you are not showing us anything of his laboratory, as +you claimed." + +"Ah, but I am!" said Baker. "This is all the laboratory Dr. Einstein +ever had. A desk, a chair, some writing paper. You will note that even +the bookshelves behind him are bare except for a can of tobacco. The +greatest laboratory in the world, a place for a man's mind to work in +peace. Nuclear science began here." + +Wily jumped to his feet. "This is absurd! No one denies the greatness of +Dr. Einstein's work, but where would he have been without billions of +dollars spent at Oak Ridge, Hanford, Los Alamos, and other great +laboratories. To say that Dr. Einstein did not use laboratory facilities +does not imply that vast expenditures for laboratories are not +necessary!" + +"I should like to reverse your question, Dr. Wily, and then let it +rest," said Baker. "What would Oak Ridge, Hanford, and Los Alamos have +done without Dr. Einstein?" + + * * * * * + +Senator Landrus floated up from his chair and raised his hands. "Let us +be orderly, gentlemen. Dr. Baker has the floor. I should not like to +have him interrupted again, please." + +Baker nodded his thanks to the senator. "It has been charged," Baker +continued, "that the methods of NBSD in granting funds for research have +changed in recent times. This is entirely correct, and I should first +like to show the results of this change." + +He unrolled a chart and pinned it to the board behind him. "This chart +shows what we have been paying and what we have been getting. The black +line on the upper half of the chart shows the number of millions of +dollars spent during the past five years. Our budget has had a +moderately steady rise. The green line shows the value of laboratories +constructed and equipment purchased. The red line shows the measure of +new concepts developed by the scientists in these laboratories, the +improvement on old concepts, and the invention of devices that are +fundamentally new in purpose or function." + +The gallery leaned forward to stare at the chart. From press row came +the popping of flash cameras. Then a surge of spontaneous comment rolled +through the chamber as the audience observed the sharp rise of the red +line during the last six months, and the dropping of the green line. + +Wily was on his feet again. "An imbecile should be able to see that the +trend of the red line is the direct result of the previous satisfactory +expenditures for facilities. One follows the other!" + +Landrus banged for order. + +"That's a very interesting point," said Baker. "I have another chart +here"--he unrolled and pinned it--"that shows the output in terms of +concepts and inventions, plotted against the size of the grants given to +the institution." + +The curve went almost straight downhill. + +Wily was screaming. "Such data are absolutely meaningless! Who can say +what constitutes a new idea, a new invention? The months of +groundwork--" + +"It will be necessary to remove any further demonstrators from the +hearing room," said Landrus. "This will be an orderly hearing if I have +to evict everyone but Dr. Baker and myself. Please continue, doctor." + +"I am quite willing for my figures and premises to be examined in all +detail," said Baker. "I will be glad to supply the necessary information +to anyone who desires it at the close of this session. In the meantime, +I should like to present a picture of the means which we have devised to +determine whether a grant should be made to any given applicant. + +"I am sure you will agree, Senator Landrus and Committee members, that +it would be criminal to make such choices on any but the most scientific +basis. For this reason, we have chosen to eliminate all elements of +bias, chance, or outright error. We have developed a highly advanced +scientific tool which we know simply as The Index." + + * * * * * + +Baker posted another long chart on the wall, speaking as he went. "This +chart represents the index of an institution which shall remain +anonymous as Sample A. However, I would direct Dr. Wily's close +attention to this exhibit. The black median line indicates the boundary +of characteristics which have been determined as acceptable or +nonacceptable for grants. The colored areas on either side of the median +line show strength of the various factors represented in any one +institution. The Index is very simple. All that is required is that +fifty per cent of the area above the line be colored in order to be +eligible for a grant. You will note that in the case of Sample A the +requirement is not met." + +Fenwick couldn't believe his eyes. The chart was almost like the first +one he had ever seen, the one prepared for Clearwater College months +ago. He hadn't even known that Baker was still using the idiotic Index. +Something was wrong, he told himself--all wrong. + +"The Index is a composite," Baker was saying; "the final resultant of +many individual charts, and it is the individual charts that will show +you the factors which are measured. These factors are determined by an +analysis of information supplied directly by the institution. + +"The first of these factors is admissions. For a college, it is +admission as a student. For a corporation, it is admission as an +employee. In each case we present the qualifications of the following at +college age: Thomas Edison, Michael Faraday, Nicholai Tesla, James Watt, +Heinrich Hertz, Kepler, Copernicus, Galileo, and Henry Ford. The +admissibility of this group of the world's scientific and the inventive +leaders is shown here." Baker pointed to a minute dab of red on the +chart. + +"Gentlemen of the Committee," he said, "would you advise me to support +with a million-dollar grant an institution that would close its doors to +minds like those of Edison and Faraday?" + +The roar of surf seemed to fill the committee room as Landrus banged in +vain on the table. Photographers' flashes lit the scene with spurts of +lightning. Wily was on his feet screaming, and Baker thought he heard +the word, "Fraud!" repeated numerous times. Landrus was finally heard, +"The room will be cleared at the next outburst!" + +Baker wondered if he ever did carry out such a threat. + +But Wily prevailed. "No such question was ever asked," he cried. "My +organization was never asked the ridiculous question of whether or not +it would admit these men. Of course we would admit them if they were +known to us!" + +"I should like to answer the gentleman's objection," Baker said to +Landrus. + +The senator nodded reluctantly. + +"We did not, of course, present these men by name. That would have been +too obvious. We presented them in terms of their qualifications at the +age of college entrance. You see how many would have been turned down. +How many, therefore, who are the intellectual equals of these men are +also being turned down? Dr. Wily says they would be admitted if they +were known. But of course they could not be known at the start of their +careers!" + + * * * * * + +Baker turned the chart and quickly substituted another. "The second +standard is that of creativeness. We simply asked the applicants to +describe ten or more new ideas of speculations entertained by each +member of the staff during the past year. When we received this +information, we did not even read the descriptions; we merely plotted +the degree of response. As you see, the institution represented by +Sample A does not consider itself long on speculative ideas." + +A titter rippled through the audience. Baker saw Wily poised, beet-red, +to spring up once more; then apparently he thought better of it and +slumped in his seat. + +"Is this a fair test?" Baker asked rhetorically. "I submit that it is. +An institution that is in the business of fostering creativeness ought +to be guilty of a few new ideas once in a while!" + +He changed charts once more and faced the listeners. "We have more than +twenty such factors that go into the composition of the Index. I will +not weary you with a recital of all of them, but I will present just one +more. We call this the area of communication, and it is plotted here for +Sample institution A." + +Again, a dismal red smudge showed up at the bottom of the sheet. Fenwick +could hardly keep from chuckling aloud as he recalled the first time he +had seen such a chart. He hoped Baker was putting it over. If the +reaction of the gallery were any indication, he was doing so. + +"A major activity of scientists in all ages has been writing reports of +their activities. If a man creates something new and talks only to +himself about it, the value of the man and his discovery to the world is +a big round zero. If a man creates something new and tells the whole +world about it, the value is at a maximum. Somewhere in between these +extremes lies the communicative activity of the modern scientist. + +"There was a time when the scientist was the most literate of men, and +the writing of a scientific report was a work of literary art. The +lectures of Michael Faraday, Darwin's account of his great +research--these are literate reading still. + +"There are few such men among us today. The modern scientists seldom +speak to you and me, but only to each other. To the extent their circle +of communication is limited, so is their value. Shall we support the man +who speaks to the world, or the man who speaks only in order to hear his +own echo?" + +He had them now, Fenwick was convinced. He could quit any time and be +ahead. The gallery was smiling approval. The press was nodding and +whispering to each other. The senators wouldn't be human if they weren't +moved. + +Baker swept aside all these charts now and placed another series before +the audience. "This is the Index on an institution to whom we have given +a sizable grant," he said. "Is there anyone here who would question our +decision? + +"This institution would have accepted every one of the list of +scientists I gave you a moment ago. They would have had their chance +here. This institution has men in whom new ideas pop up like cherry +blossoms in the spring. I don't know how many of them are good ideas. No +one can tell at this stage, but, at least, these men are +_thinking_--which is a basic requirement for producing scientific +discovery. + +"Finally, this institution is staffed by men who can't be shut up. They +don't communicate merely with each other. They talk about their ideas to +anyone who comes along. They write articles for little publications and +for big ones. They are in the home mechanics' journals and on +publishers' book lists. + +"Most important of all, these are some of the men responsible for the +red line on the first curve I showed you. These are the men who have +produced the most new developments and inventions with the least amount +of money. + +"I leave it to you, gentlemen. Has the National Bureau of Scientific +Development chosen correctly, or should we return to our former course?" + +There were cheers and applause as Baker sat down. Landrus closed the +hearing with the announcement that the evidence would be examined at +length and a report issued. Wily hurried forward to buttonhole him as +the crowd filed out. + + * * * * * + +"It was a good show," Fenwick said, "but I'm still puzzled by what +you've done. This new Index is really just about as phony as your old +one." + +They were seated in Baker's office once more. Baker smiled and glanced +through the window beyond Fenwick. "I suppose so," Baker admitted +finally, "but do you think Wily will be able to convince Landrus and his +committee of that no matter how big a dinner he buys him tonight?" + +"No--I don't think he will." + +"Then we've accomplished our purpose. Besides, there's a good deal of +truth buried in the Index. It's no lie that we can give them scientific +research at a cheaper price than ever before." + +"But what was the purpose you were trying to accomplish?" + +Baker hesitated. "To establish myself as an Authority," he said, +finally. "After today, I will be the recognized Authority on how to +manage the nation's greatest research and development program." + +Fenwick stared, then gasped. "Authority--you? This is the thing you were +trying to fight. This is the great Plague Sam Atkins taught you--" + +Baker was shaking his head and laughing. "No. Sam Atkins didn't tell me +that one man could become immune and fight the Plague head on all by +himself. He taught me something else that I didn't understand for a long +time. He told me that he who ceases to fear Authority becomes Authority. + +"To become Authority was the last thing in the world I wanted. But +finally I recognized what Sam meant; it was the only way I could ever +accomplish anything in the face of this Plague. You can't tell men of +this culture that it is wrong to put themselves in total agreement with +Authority. If that's the program on which they've chosen to function, +the destruction of the program would destroy them, just as it did me. +There had to be another way. + +"If men are afraid of lions, you don't teach them it's wrong for men to +be afraid of beasts; you teach them how to trap lions. + +"If men are afraid of new knowledge-experiences, you don't teach them +that new knowledge is not to be feared. There was a time when men got +burned at the stake for such efforts. The response today is not entirely +different. No--when men are afraid of knowledge you teach them to trap +knowledge, just as you might teach them to trap lions. + +"I can do this now because I have shown them that I am an Authority. I +can lead them and it will not fracture their basic program tapes, which +instruct them to be in accord with Authority. I can stop their battle +against those who are not possessed of the Plague. It may even be that I +can change the course of the Plague. Who knows?" + +Fenwick was silent for a long time. Then he spoke again. "I read +somewhere about a caterpillar that's called the Processionary +Caterpillar. Several of them hook up, nose to fanny, and travel through +a forest wherever the whims of the front caterpillar take them. + +"A naturalist once took a train of Processionary Caterpillars and placed +them on the rim of a flower pot in a continuous chain. They marched for +days around the flower pot, each one supposing the caterpillar in front +of him knew where he was going. Each was the Authority to the one +behind. Food and water were placed nearby, but the caterpillars +continued marching until they dropped off from exhaustion." + +Baker frowned. "And what's that got to do with--?" + +"You," said Fenwick. "You just led the way down off the flower pot. You +just got promoted to head caterpillar." + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Great Gray Plague, by Raymond F. 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