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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wait for Weight, by Jack McKenty
+
+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: Wait for Weight
+
+Author: Jack McKenty
+
+Illustrator: Don Sibley
+
+Release Date: June 6, 2010 [EBook #32717]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAIT FOR WEIGHT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Diane Monico, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Wait for Weight
+
+By JACK McKENTY
+
+ _Sometimes the best incentive is to tell a man that success
+ will throw him out of a job!_
+
+Illustrated by SIBLEY
+
+
+When Dr. Allport Brinton's alarm clock sounded, it brought madness. It
+was very clever; it not only rang chimes of amazing penetrating power,
+it turned on all the lights in the room, closed the window, and started
+his bath water running. But this morning it was not appreciated. In
+fact, as Dr. Brinton got out of bed, he silently called down evil on
+the technician who had built it for him.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The "off" switch was on the wall farthest away from his bed and was
+controlled by a hairtrigger combination dial that couldn't be operated
+by anyone not fully awake. Dr. Brinton fumbled for a while, then gave
+up and started looking for his bedroom slippers. They had apparently
+crawled away during the night.
+
+He padded into his bathroom barefoot. He was about to see what a hot
+bath would do for what he had already diagnosed as a histamine headache
+when the alarm clock, having decided that anyone who could sleep
+through ten minutes of chiming was unwakable, stopped chiming, turned
+off the lights, opened the window, and let all the water out.
+
+Dr. Brinton was walking back toward the light switch when he tripped on
+his bedroom slippers and fell back into bed. No further invitation was
+necessary; he slept till noon.
+
+Dr. Brinton unmistakably had a hangover. Considering the party he had
+attended the night before, it was not surprising. Actually, it was
+remarkable that he had been able to get out of bed at all. During the
+fourteen years that the Rocket Research Station had been in operation,
+the parties that were held every time another test flight resulted in
+failure had grown from a few drinks in somebody's room to a mammoth
+bust-up that left the whole place partially paralyzed for days
+afterward.
+
+First as chief chemist, and later as director of the Station, Dr.
+Brinton had attended every one of the scores of parties during every
+one of the fourteen years. It spoke well for his endurance to say that
+he was back at his office at one o'clock. Some people didn't make it
+until the next day.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+His secretary, who didn't drink, was one of very few who were at work
+on time. She walked into his office and stood in front of his desk,
+tapping her foot. Her facial expression showed that she thought people
+who got drunk at parties were amoral, degenerate, and entirely unfit
+for administrative positions. Dr. Brinton, who had been mentally
+comparing the relative merits of Prussic acid and hanging as pain
+relievers, sat up straight to prove that he was moral, alert, and ready
+for any problem that might come up. His secretary sniffed to indicate
+that she didn't believe him. Dr. Brinton dropped his eyes to admit that
+maybe he wasn't at his best at the moment, but it was only a temporary
+condition, and by tomorrow he would be okay.
+
+"In two minutes you'll wish you were dead," said his secretary. "Read
+this."
+
+She handed him a letter. He read it and his knuckles cracked as he
+gripped the arms of his chair.
+
+"Senator MacNeill coming to visit _here_?" he cried in alarm. Though
+his voice was squeaky, he was surprised to hear it at all. "Get me a
+line to Washington, our top priority, Audrey at the Naval Department."
+
+The call was put through.
+
+"Commander Audrey? This is Brinton at the Station. Joe MacNeill is
+coming to visit us. Can you head him off?...
+
+"Yes, I know, but he's on one of his economy drives. We just did a test
+yesterday and if he inspects this place now, we won't get enough money
+to build a pinball machine. Delay him a week, anyway....
+
+"Well, try. I'll arrange a tour for him as best I can, but if he
+doesn't come, I'll be much happier. Let me know as soon as possible.
+Fine. Good-by."
+
+He scribbled a memo and carried it out to his secretary. "Copy of this
+to all department heads, right away. Phone the commissary and have them
+get all the decorations taken down in the dining room. Tell them to lay
+in some steaks for tomorrow. Phone Harry Sparling in Public
+Relations--alert him V.V.I.P. tomorrow, extra-special tour including
+all our movies on the subject. I'm going over to the Fuels Department."
+
+Dr. Ferber, head of Fuels, met Dr. Brinton at the door of his lab.
+
+"I just got your memo," he said. "Is that budget-butcher really coming
+down here?"
+
+Dr. Brinton nodded his head gently. "I'm afraid so. I came over to see
+what kind of show we can put on for him."
+
+"We have some samples to run on the indoor motors. There are a couple
+of loads left for the acceleration sled. And I suppose if we work all
+night we could get a sergeant-major ready, but if he's on an economy
+drive that might be too elaborate. Just a view of everybody pouring
+stuff from one test-tube to another might be best."
+
+"Do the samples and run the sled once," Dr. Brinton said. "That should
+provide enough fire and noise. The rest of it will have to be fast
+talk. I think I'll go home to bed."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Dr. Brinton considered himself a methodical man. He had bacon and eggs
+every morning for breakfast. He always took a vitamin pill with his
+afternoon coffee. And he was used to exactly eight hours sleep. It was
+this last habit that caused him to wake up that night at midnight; he
+had gone to bed at four that afternoon and habit is a hard thing to
+break. At first he thought it was morning, but a glance at his watch
+hanging on its illuminated pedestal corrected that.
+
+He grunted, rolled over, and waited for sleep to overtake him again.
+Nothing happened. He turned and stared at the ceiling for a while.
+Still nothing; he had not felt so wide awake for a long time. Then he
+was struck by one of the flashes of inspiration that had made him
+famous--he would raid the refrigerator.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Downstairs, he found that his son Eric had anticipated him by two
+minutes, and was busy setting the table with cheese, pickles, ice
+cream, peanut butter, and everything else necessary to keep a
+sixteen-year-old boy operating at peak efficiency. A pile of books on
+the table indicated that he had just finished his homework. Dr. Brinton
+was pleased that his son had worked so late, but the choice of food
+made him shudder. He rummaged in the refrigerator himself, found a cold
+pork chop that Eric had somehow overlooked, and bore it to the table in
+triumph.
+
+"We were dealt a blow today," he said, between mouthfuls.
+
+"Oh?" said Eric, on guard in case it was about his school work.
+
+"Received word that Senator MacNeill is coming here tomorrow. No,
+today--it's after midnight."
+
+"Oh." It was an "oh" of relief. A senator couldn't be nearly as
+troublesome as a teacher.
+
+"Don't say 'oh' like that. He'll probably close the Station tight and
+we'll all be out of work. You don't realize, it, but money has been
+getting harder and harder to cadge for this place. We're practically
+running only the Fuels department now."
+
+He got up, threw the bone from his pork chop into a garbage pail,
+washed his hands at the sink, and sat down again.
+
+He continued, "Wait till he finds out about those four reactor rockets
+that are cooling off on the Moon, waiting for us to get there. I can
+hear him scream, 'Five million dollars each! Each full of precious
+equipment, to say nothing of invaluable fissionable material!' And then
+this place gets shut down."
+
+Eric had a suggestion. "Give him the old routine about how we have to
+get men to the Moon or the Russians will do it first and use all the
+equipment we've sent there without even thanking us."
+
+"Umm," said his father, considering. He shook his head finally. "His
+answer to that is why send good money after bad. No. I just hope he
+feels better after a steak dinner. Either that or the wings fall off
+his plane." He smiled wistfully at the thought. "Oh, well," he said,
+"let's go to bed."
+
+They went their separate ways, but only Eric went to bed. His father
+entered the library, sat down, got his pipe going, and began to reread
+_How to Win Friends and Influence People_.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+The next day saw Dr. Brinton contemplate suicide, homicide, and voting
+Republican, though not necessarily in that order. The Senator had
+viewed their most inspiring onward-and-upward movies and merely asked
+how much they cost to make. He had eaten a huge steak at the
+commissary, and then inspected the garbage cans for waste. His visits
+to various departments had been marred by his lack of interest in
+anything except the number of men employed by each and their average
+salaries, though he did comment that they all looked hung-over. In the
+Fuels Department, he had walked out on the demonstrations, interrupting
+some actual experiments that were going on outside the test room.
+
+Dr. Brinton was now riding in the back of a jeep, explaining to the
+Senator that nuclear rockets were not too efficient, and the shielding
+necessary to make them safe for men weighed more than their payload.
+The Senator noted down the word "inefficient."
+
+A loudspeaker on a pole a little farther down the road interrupted the
+explanation. "Twenty-five, twenty-five, twenty-five," it shouted.
+"Five-nine, eighteen. Five-nine, eighteen. Seventy-three, ten-eight."
+It began to repeat the message.
+
+The driver, who had slowed while they listened to the message, turned
+the jeep around and sped them back the other way.
+
+"What in Heaven's name was that?" asked the Senator, who was busy
+hanging on.
+
+"Twenty-five means emergency," shouted Dr. Brinton. "Five and nine is
+fire and explosion in the Fuels Department, which is eighteen.
+Seventy-three is my call number and ten-eight means they want me to get
+there in a hurry."
+
+For the first time, the Senator looked impressed. Then he grew angry
+again when his hat blew off and the driver wouldn't stop to go back and
+get it. The jeep took a shortcut across the concrete fence, and left
+tire marks in the grass in front of the Fuels Department. Dr. Brinton
+jumped out and ran into the building, leaving the Senator to argue with
+the driver about going back for the hat.
+
+The lab outside the test room was dusty and littered with broken glass.
+Two technicians were receiving first aid for minor cuts, but everyone
+else seemed to be in an almost holiday mood.
+
+Dr. Ferber saw Dr. Brinton standing in the doorway and came over to
+him immediately.
+
+"That telephone operator gets too excited," he said. "There's no fire,
+and I think it was an implosion, not an explosion. Wrecked our new
+pressure catalyzer. Harrison's gone to hospital and the two you see are
+hurt, but none of it's very serious. I suppose Butcher Boy is going to
+put this down in his little notebook, too."
+
+"If you are referring to me," said the Senator's voice behind them, "I
+most certainly am going to make a note of it. And I suggest you both
+start advertising for other jobs."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Brinton had been indulging in a pleasant little fantasy in which he had
+cut Senator MacNeill up into twenty-eight pieces, placed them in
+aluminum cans, and made them radioactive in the Station pile. He was
+smiling at the newsreel cameras, about to fire the first
+Senator-powered spaceship in the history of mankind, when his alarm
+clock, which had maliciously been waiting for just such an opportunity,
+spoiled his dream by waking him up.
+
+That was how the next day started. It continued in the same vein when,
+in a fit of petulance, he strode into his clothes closet and kicked the
+alarm control box, barefoot. He was working the combination dial for
+the third or fourth time when he noticed that his feet were getting
+wet. His kick must have jammed some relays in the control box; the bath
+water was overflowing. Since the box was sealed to prevent him from
+fooling with it, he had had to prevent a flood by limping downstairs
+and pulling the master switch.
+
+With no electricity, his breakfast consisted of cold fruit juice, cold
+cereal, and cold milk. When he got to his office, he ordered a pot of
+coffee and made out a requisition for a pipe wrench. If it ever
+happened again, he was going to shut the water off instead.
+
+His secretary came in with the coffee and poured him a cup.
+
+"I have some letters for you to sign," she said brightly, to cheer him
+up. Dr. Brinton drank his coffee. "Our new filing system is working
+very well," she added, pouring him another cup. The doctor's face
+relaxed a little, but it was because the snow bank in his stomach was
+beginning to melt. His secretary played her trump. "And somebody from
+the Fuels Department phoned and said something was passing the yellow
+line and might make the blue."
+
+She was never sure afterward whether Dr. Brinton had gone around his
+desk, or over it. She had blinked and by the time her eyes were open
+again, he was gone.
+
+Dr. Brinton found a crowd in the indoor test lab, chuckling over the
+line being drawn by a differential analyzer. He elbowed his way to the
+front, looked himself, and began a little dance of impatience. The
+analyzer was connected with linkages to the test stand where a tiny
+rocket motor was thrusting out a hot blue pencil of flame. The results
+from the analyzer were plotted as range capability against time on a
+piece of graph paper which had four curved colored lines overprinted on
+it. The curved lines were marked in succession: "Earth," "Moon," "Moon"
+and "Earth."
+
+If the first Earth line, colored red, was passed, the fuel under test
+could power a rocket to leave Earth, carrying men with it. If the
+yellow line--the first Moon line--was reached, the rocket could
+theoretically land men on the Moon. Several rockets, carrying dummy
+loads, had already tried and failed: their fuels, though the best
+available, barely reached the yellow line when under test.
+
+The blue--second--Moon line was calculated to indicate an escape from,
+the Moon without refueling, and the last line, in green, was a
+theoretical powered landing back on Earth.
+
+The pen of the analyzer had already passed the blue line and was more
+than halfway to the green!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"This the stuff that was left in the catalyzer after the explosion
+yesterday!" Dr. Ferber shouted to Dr. Brinton over the roar from the
+little engine. "It looked as if it would burn, so I tested it.
+Jackpot!"
+
+"What is it?" asked Dr. Brinton.
+
+"Supposed to be an artificial base for a _perfume_!"
+
+The last word seemed louder because the test rocket just then ran out
+of fuel and grew silent. The tracing of the pen stopped a fraction
+short of the green line.
+
+Dr. Ferber continued in his normal voice while he busied himself with
+the connections of the engine: "We didn't have anything to do to put on
+a show for MacNeill yesterday, so I told the lads to carry on with
+experiments of their own. It was Harrison who made this stuff. He was
+cut by flying glass and landed in the hospital. I phoned there this
+morning and found the damn fool doctor took his appendix out. Said he
+figured he might as well while Harrison was in there. He's still under
+the anesthetic and we won't be able to ask him anything for several
+hours."
+
+"Doesn't matter," said Dr. Brinton. "We know it works; we have to find
+out why it works. Got any left? We'll analyze it."
+
+The next few hours saw Dr. Brinton rapidly become a bitter and
+disillusioned man.
+
+When a qualitative test informed them that the presence of nitrogen
+meant they were going to have to use an even longer and more laborious
+process than the ordinary one, he uttered a few sentences that made a
+couple of nearby German exchange students wonder if perhaps they hadn't
+a portion missed in the English language learning.
+
+When he found that he had forgotten his pipe at home, and the analysis
+required too much of their attention to allow him to go home and get
+it, he quoted a paragraph or two that earned him the undivided
+attention of everyone in the lab.
+
+But when he took the results over to a calculator and worked them out
+to carbon 281.6% he had barely started the prologue when frustration
+overtook him and he subsided, speechless. He was at a loss to say or do
+anything except mumble that 281.6% was impossible.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Dr. Ferber came over and took the paper with the results from him.
+Everyone in the lab watched while he checked the calculations
+patiently.
+
+A delegation minutely checked the apparatus the two doctors had used;
+it was faultless. One person even went so far as to cast a suspicious
+look at the big automatic micro-balance standing on its pedestal in the
+center of the room. He weighed a piece of paper, wrote his name on it
+in pencil and reweighed it. The difference was satisfactory. For a few
+moments, they all just stood and looked at each other. Then the whole
+lot of them set to work.
+
+A junior technician headed for the spectrograph, came back in three
+minutes with a freshly developed spectral photograph and a puzzled
+look. He spent some time comparing both of them with the illustrations
+in a manual entitled _Structural Formulae as Indicated by Spectral
+Groupings_.
+
+The two German exchange students made a few tries at finding the class
+of compound. They soon were deep in a technical discussion in their own
+language, the only recognizable words being "biuret," "dumkopf," and
+"damn."
+
+A senior research-chemist tried crystalizing some and invented an
+entirely new swear word.
+
+With four helpers, Dr. Brinton and Dr. Ferber redid the combustion
+analysis in slightly less than twice the time it would have taken only
+one of them. Of course they were assured of accuracy; each step was
+checked at least twice by everyone.
+
+The result was still carbon 281.6%.
+
+Dr. Brinton escaped the ensuing mental paralysis since he had already
+been through the experience once. He went over and began to study the
+figures written in on the side of the spectral photograph. Out of
+little more than idle curiosity, he compared the ratios of the rough
+quantitative estimate found spectrographically with the more accurate
+but impossible answer of the combustion micro-analysis.
+
+While he was doing the necessary figuring, he listened sympathetically
+to the technician. The young man was complaining bitterly about things
+in general, and chemistry in particular. Chemical reference books came
+in for a special roasting, because: "either that lousy book is
+incomplete, or this structural formula is out of this world."
+
+That did it.
+
+Brinton got out a scratch pad and drew a little diagram.
+
+Then he went to talk to Dr. Ferber.
+
+"Would it be possible that Harrison started with a multi-ringed
+phenol?" he asked. Dr. Ferber nodded. Dr. Brinton showed him the
+drawing. "Does that remind you of any geometrical figure?"
+
+Dr. Ferber looked. There was a pause, then his eyes lit up.
+
+"Of course," he said. "Since formulae are usually drawn in one plane, I
+doubt if anyone ever noticed that before. And when it comes under
+stress by compression, it's only natural that it should fold." He
+paused and looked at the calendar, "Four weeks?" he asked.
+
+"That'll do fine," said Dr. Brinton. "I'll arrange the details. You
+look after the fuel. Harrison can give us the details of this one, but
+there are probably any number of fuels based on this principal. Some
+will be even more efficient, too."
+
+He excused himself, went to a phone, and asked for a Washington number.
+The call was answered.
+
+"Hello, Senator MacNeill?" he said. "How would you like to be guest of
+honor at a party?"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Brinton peered through the ring of reporters over to the head table
+where Senator MacNeill was speaking, and speaking, and speaking.
+
+"He's on his home state," Dr. Brinton said. "About half an hour to go.
+Now, gentlemen, you were asking about the new fuel. You all received
+press handouts containing the information. You will probably receive
+copies of the Senator's speech. And the broadcast from our first men on
+the Moon went out over several networks hours ago. It seems to me that
+you have enough for several stories."
+
+One of the reporters asked bewilderedly, "What is a tesseract? I read
+the handout twice and I still don't understand."
+
+"A mathematician would be better qualified to explain," said Dr.
+Brinton, "but I'll try. A tesseract is a fourth dimensional cube. A
+line has one dimension, a square has two, a cube has three, and a
+tesseract has four. A cube can be unfolded into six squares, and a
+tesseract unfolds to eight cubes. The new fuel had a molecular
+structure resembling an unfolded tesseract. When pressure is applied,
+it folds up into a tesseract so that it takes up less room and relieves
+the pressure.
+
+"The practical application is that we can get eight pounds of it into a
+one pound can. The other seven pounds of it are riding around in the
+fourth dimension. As soon as it starts to burn, the structure is
+destroyed, so that it comes back out of the fourth dimension. Several
+people have assured me that it can't work. They're probably right,
+except that it does. Oh, I'll be back in a minute."
+
+He went over to another group and spoke to one of its members. The man
+addressed nodded his head and left. Dr. Brinton returned.
+
+"If there are no more questions, I suggest we do some serious drinking.
+I am now out of a job and I want to celebrate."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Promptly at seven-thirty, a relay clicked and the alarm clock went into
+its usual daily routine with the chimes, window, lights, and bath
+water.
+
+Dr. Brinton woke up enough to reach out a lazy arm and flip a newly
+installed toggle switch beside his bed. Everything returned to normal.
+The light and the chimes both faded away, the window reopened, and a
+soft gurgling came from the bathroom.
+
+A slight gurgling also came from the bed, where Dr. Brinton, with a
+happy little smile on his face, had gone peacefully back to sleep,
+perfectly satisfied that he had worked himself into unemployment by
+finding the fuel that would power spaceships to--and from--any part of
+the Solar System.
+
+
+--=JACK McKENTY=
+
+
+
+
+ * * * * *
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction October 1952.
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright
+on this publication was renewed.
+
+Italicized text is shown within _underscores_.
+
+Bold text is shown within =equal signs=.
+
+Thought breaks are shown by 5 asterisks:
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wait for Weight, by Jack McKenty
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAIT FOR WEIGHT ***
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