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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85a0191 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51304 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51304) diff --git a/old/51304-h.zip b/old/51304-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ce1febf..0000000 --- a/old/51304-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51304-h/51304-h.htm b/old/51304-h/51304-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 2e900c6..0000000 --- a/old/51304-h/51304-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1423 +0,0 @@ -<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Touch of E Flat, by Joe Gibson. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Touch of E Flat, by Joe Gibson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Touch of E Flat - -Author: Joe Gibson - -Release Date: February 26, 2016 [EBook #51304] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TOUCH OF E FLAT *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="388" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>A Touch of E Flat</h1> - -<p>By JOE GIBSON</p> - -<p>Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Science Fiction May 1957.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">Warning: never let anyone point any weapon<br /> -at you; even something as harmless-looking<br /> -as a water pistol—it may be a Cooling gun!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Most people can find something wrong with the world, and some make a -practice of it, but few people ever get the chance to do something -about it—and those few usually go down in history with a resounding -crash.</p> - -<p>Well, it's been rather noisy around here.</p> - -<p>From the very beginning, it had been my intention to write this -account. But I certainly hadn't intended to write it while residing -under police surveillance in the Recuperating Ward of St. Luke's -Memorial Hospital. Nor did I expect the interest and encouragement of -the police officer who put me here. Nonetheless, Sgt. Nicolas Falasca -of the Ohio State Police has been most helpful both in the many long -discussions we have had and in procuring the notes and data from my -laboratory for the preparation of this manuscript.</p> - -<p>But I'm afraid there shall be a considerable lot of me in this -manuscript—which, I hastily assert, is not its purpose at all. My -apologies for that. Fact is, there's a considerable lot of me, as -anyone can see. The term I rather prefer using is roly-poly.</p> - -<p>For the record, however, I am duly Certified-at-Birth as one Albert -Jamieson Cooling, to which has been added, by my own modest efforts, -a few odd alphabetic symbols such as M.S. and Ph.D. I am currently -holding down a professorship at a small, privately endowed Tech -college, have some mentionable background in both nuclear physics and -biochemistry, possess a choice collection of rather good jazz records, -have a particular fondness for barbecued spareribs—and, of late, have -become an inventor.</p> - -<p>If I've left something out, such as horn-rimmed glasses, then, by the -point of my little black beard, it must be the wardrobe of 36 sport -jackets. Wives? Well, I've been tempted, but a professor's salary can't -support alimony.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>My discovery of the Cooling Effect itself came quite by accident. -But twice now, that accident has almost killed me. It may be argued -that this is no more than I should have expected, however, since the -invention which "followed naturally" can only be called one thing.</p> - -<p>I have invented a new weapon.</p> - -<p>That's right—a Cooling gun.</p> - -<p>But let it be said that because I was once a war scientist, my -inventiveness must therefore tend toward weapons and I should be -strongly tempted to reach for the nearest one available. The term war -scientist has been used so much, and has grown so commonplace, that it -has become universally accepted as the label for anyone who spent as -little as six weeks in the old AEC. I was in it for six years, and I -voluntarily walked out.</p> - -<p>The official policies and inter-agency politics of that era seem of -little consequence now, when we have three permanent space satellites -circling the Earth and one of them is Russian. We're no longer in a -weapons race; both sides have reached the Ultimate Weapon in that -contest. Nobody's hiding or betraying classified secrets any more. -There's all that silicon-rich basalt waiting to be cheaply processed -out on the Moon, if we can only get there....</p> - -<p>Back in '69, the official news releases were still boasting how much -bigger was each new toy we rolled out of the workshop, how much -more terrible destruction it would wreak than the last one. That was -hogwash dished out by our PR boys (and, on the other side, by the Reds' -Propaganda Ministry) simply because people didn't know any better. -Actually, our toys that made the biggest bang were the worst flops as -weapons.</p> - -<p>You don't conquer an enemy by exterminating him. A hundred million -corpses are no problem—just use bulldozers and they're out of the way. -But a hundred million living, breathing, freezing, starving, filthy and -ragged human beings can raise one hell of an uproar. And they usually -do. Some of us felt that we wouldn't need to knock off even a third of -Russia's major cities. Much less, in fact.</p> - -<p>Dr. Charles Whitney made the mistake of saying so. And they canned him. -The scuttlebutt was that Doc's conscience backfired. I know better; I -saw the explosion. It was his patience, not his conscience.</p> - -<p>Anyway, I turned in my resignation two weeks later. I walked out, kept -my mouth shut and settled down to a small college professorship. I -mention these events now simply because I believe it was there that the -development of the Cooling gun actually started.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I had begun to see what devastating weapons could never achieve. They -<i>had</i> deterred warfare, at least up to that August of 1969, by their -threat of utter destruction—and perhaps Whitney deserved to get -canned—but they offered no guarantee for the future. And they couldn't -liberate a conquered nation or protect people from a dictator's secret -police.</p> - -<p>It was time we had something better. (We did, of course, but only a -small part of the AEC was in on the development of atomic rockets.) -Until we did, I could sense that we were simply going through the -motions.</p> - -<p>But it all began to go places fast with that cold research we were -dabbling in, last semester. In fact, it was my fault that General -Atomics tossed that little problem into our Cold Lab here at Webster -Tech—my own past service in the AEC, my rather unusual background -combining nuclear physics and biochemistry, and the post-grad crew I've -managed to accumulate under my professorial wing.</p> - -<p>The whole deal was shoveled obligingly into my Christmas stocking and -the rest of the faculty obligingly left me to play with it—providing I -continued to conduct my regular classes, of course.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it's just as well I kept my hand in, though, because that line -of research got rapidly nowhere. We found that materials which have -their temperatures reduced to near-absolute zero are just plain cold. -Bring them into room temperature and strange things happen sometimes -that isn't just them trying to warm up. It isn't friction-loss and it -isn't radiation damage and it isn't entropy.</p> - -<p>It shows.</p> - -<p>There's a band of radiant energy somewhere between ultrasonics and -radiant heat that hits fast and goes deep, and comes out just as -fast, and it gets triggered off by whatever this is that happens with -near-absolute zero objects subjected to room temperature. But the whole -thing is so negligible that for most practical purposes it can be -ignored.</p> - -<p>Finding <i>that</i> out cost General Atomics thirty thousand dollars, -but our kids in the Cold Lab had a ball rigging the Mad Scientist's -super-disintegrator gizmo that reproduced the phenomenon.</p> - -<p>Then, that night—it's nearly four months ago now—I was alone in the -lab, just switched off the lights, about to close up and go home. And I -stumbled over the corner of the thing. Scrambling up, somehow I put my -foot into it. And reaching out to grasp its frame, to steady myself, my -hand hit the switch. It went on and I went out.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="600" height="214" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>It was still on—I thought—when I regained consciousness, spraddled -out on the concrete floor. I pulled the switch open and jerked the cord -out of the wall socket.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When I got home, there wasn't a bruise or a bump on my noggin. Nor the -faintest sign of a burn anywhere on my foot or leg or even on the sole -of my shoe.</p> - -<p>That was a Tuesday night.</p> - -<p>The next day, the lab remained closed. But that night, I went in, -switched the lights on and studied the machine. It showed absolutely -no sign of damage, no burned insulation, nothing. I stuck my hand into -it and closed the switch. It came on with its usual quiet hum. Nothing -happened.</p> - -<p>It was almost a week before I heard that the janitor was still -wondering who'd blown all the campus fuses on Tuesday night. Then I -remembered that I hadn't switched the lights back on when I regained -consciousness.</p> - -<p>I had been blinded when I switched them off, had stumbled over the -machine, fallen, all the rest of it. But I'd come to with night vision, -naturally. I saw well enough then by the moonlight streaming in the lab -windows. All the lights—the machine, too—could have been off, with -the fuses blown, without my noticing it. I had assumed the machine was -on because its switch was closed, had opened the switch and jerked out -the cord plug.</p> - -<p>What happened had therefore required a tremendous spurt of juice in -the circuits, or else a heck of a lot less juice than we carry in our -lab outlets. So I took home the prints on the rig and began making -changes. Which led to more changes. Which resulted in some rather -complicated mathematics to which we scientific chaps resort when the -kind we teach in colleges just won't work out right. I got it: a very -low power-input. And I got more.</p> - -<p>The thing is a sort of invisible ray. It can only be emitted, -or broadcast, as a narrow beam from the muzzle-coils of a very -fancy-looking electronic rig. Low power is a must; more juice not only -heats up the rig and smokes insulation, but it won't shoot the beam.</p> - -<p>I tested it on the black tulips (Biochemical Research Project 187) -which I got to close up by the clock, not by the Sun, last year -(Project 187-A) and their blossoms closed each time the beam touched -them. The purple mushrooms which fluff their tops in radioactivity -showed no effects.</p> - -<p>It works on a simple "A" battery. But there's a transistor hookup that -behaves like no transistor. Its molecular structure vibrates, which it -shouldn't, and emits a sharp, keening note in the vicinity of E flat. A -rather bulky muffler would be required, I'm afraid, to get rid of that -noise.</p> - -<p>But the oddest thing, technically, is that invisible ray-beam. It -hasn't any of the effects of electric shock. I'll not go into the -electro-neurological aspects of that—nobody could understand it -except, just possibly, a neurologist—but the simple fact is that this -ray puts a victim to sleep instantly <i>and it doesn't do anything else</i>!</p> - -<p>No blockages or convulsions of nerve ganglia, not even a temporary -catharsis of "mild" shock! Apparently it gallops up the "white -matter" of the nervous system quite harmlessly, then smacks the "gray -matter"—the brain, the spinal column—a good wallop. Painlessly.</p> - -<p>In short, the victim just flops over and snores up a half-hour or so, -and then awakens as if from a short nap, though perhaps with some -puzzlement. There is no injury whatsoever.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Naturally I wanted to find out how the Cooling Effect worked and -why—though I may never learn <i>what</i> it is. Hypnosis? Artificially -induced, instantaneous sleep? (Victims can be handled without -awakening.) Of course, I was curious. I'd have gone through it step by -step for my own satisfaction, even if somebody else had already done it -before.</p> - -<p>Nobody had—and it wasn't easy. During the rest of the term, even -through final exams, I devoted every spare moment to the Cooling -Effect. Even so, it took another two months' hot sweat—the summer -vacation's practically gone now—to get those final diagrams onto my -drawing board.</p> - -<p>But once I did, there it was, at least its basic circuits and -components. All I needed was to juggle them around, coax them into a -slim, tubular case, put a carved butt on it containing the "A" battery -and give it a push-button trigger. With that data, any good bench-hand -in an electrical repair shop could have done the job. I fashioned it -out of plastic and odds and ends in my basement laboratory.</p> - -<p>A glance in the telephone Red Book gave me the number of a local -breeding farm and a call soon brought a pair of fat, inquisitive -guinea pigs in a small, wire-screened carrying cage. Beyond the patio -wall, my house sides directly on open pasturage, and beyond that, -lower in the valley, the alfalfa field begins. With a brisk pacing off -of a base-line and some rough, splay-thumbed triangulation, I soon -determined my new weapon's effectiveness from point-blank range to a -thousand yards—on guinea pigs, that is.</p> - -<p>At nine hundred yards, it still knocked them over for the count. At a -thousand yards, it had no effect whatever, so far as I could determine -through field glasses. The animals gave no sign that they even noticed -it. That, plus the nature of the mechanism, indicates its application -is definitely limited. Whether you make it small enough to fit a lady's -purse or as big as an atomic cannon, its maximum effective range will -still remain 900 yards. And not just on guinea pigs.</p> - -<p>I already knew from my own experience what it does to a man at close -range. Blowing the fuses on the whole campus had been the real danger -there, however. Had it been the slightest bit different, even to the -position of my foot in that big machine, I should certainly have been -electrocuted that night.</p> - -<p>That was the first time it almost killed me.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Cooling Effect is worthless as an anesthetic for surgery. While the -sleeping guinea pigs don't awaken when I pick them up out of their -cage and handle them, even pulling their legs, they do struggle. They -resist, like sleeping animals, not wanting to be disturbed. Still, I -pinched them and bounced them and they invariably slept through an -approximate half-hour. It's shock, and it isn't. It's sleep, and it -isn't.</p> - -<p>But I certainly knew it was a weapon. A new weapon. And man alive, -<i>what</i> a weapon!</p> - -<p>I turned the guinea pigs loose in the patio, let them scamper, then -tumbled them both with a quick sweep of the beam.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>One man in ambush could knock over a whole company of marching troops!</p> - -<p>The guns could be mounted on tripods with a rotating mechanism that -kept them sweeping the area constantly. Anyone who approached within -900 yards would go down—then wake up, climb back to their feet, and go -down again every half-hour. Man or animal. The guns could be strung out -to cover a whole sector, then wired to a single main switch—and one -lone observer could stop an infantry advance.</p> - -<p>But they wouldn't stop guided missiles or even mortar fire. Nor would -they deflect through peepholes on a tank or pillbox. There isn't -quite that much "scatter" from the beam reflecting off a hard surface. -However, there is some—I fired through the wire-screen openings of the -cage and had the beam glance directly off the back wall, often knocking -the guinea pigs down without hitting them directly. It went through -a handkerchief easily, even when folded thick. A thin glass tumbler, -however, stopped it.</p> - -<p>You could take cover from it almost anywhere—if you knew when you -were going to be shot at. You could wear a light plastic armor—if -the joints were sealed and you kept it hooked to about a fifty-pound -air-condition unit. No problem at all if you ride a motor scooter.</p> - -<p>It wouldn't stop an invading army, but it could certainly raise the -devil with the occupation. Almost anyone could make the gun. Given the -components of a pocket radio, a few pieces of copper wire, a few sticks -of chewing gum and a penknife, I could whittle one out of wood or put -it into a plastic toy water-pistol.</p> - -<p>But what the Armed Forces <i>don't</i> want right now is a new secret -weapon! They have their manned satellite now, keeping its vigil over -the arsenals of Earth, their big atomic missiles ready to jump off -against preset targets—but with the frightful unknown of deep space -chilling their backsides.</p> - -<p>And, too, I can imagine trying to sell those Generals on something that -won't even stop a tank.</p> - -<p>I'm afraid I forgot to shut off the kitchen monitor that night. The -servos dished out the dinner menu I'd dialed before noon, then whisked -it away when it got cold. I noticed it when the waste processor's -stuttering hum went on a bit longer than usual.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I realized all too clearly what a predicament I was in.</p> - -<p>The Armed Forces would undoubtedly suppress my invention. Their lives -are nightmarish enough already—not knowing what they'll find out in -space or how it will affect matters. What's more, they would suppress -<i>me</i>! There are certain retroactive clauses in that contract I signed -with the AEC which would do the job with complete legality. A nice -little hideaway, then, with nothing for miles but security guards, -radar traps, trip-wires and electric fences.</p> - -<p>But that was the kindest fate I could expect. Quite a number of -assorted big and small dictators might like my head blown off.</p> - -<p>The most obvious alternative was to suppress the invention myself. To -destroy all traces of my experiments and forget about it. To convince -myself the world wasn't ready for it.</p> - -<p>It's quite possible I might have—if I hadn't kept forgetting to shut -off things—and if not for an unsavory little group.</p> - -<p>There is small chance that Big Jake Claggett and his three henchmen -will ever be remembered for their unwitting contribution to science -and the future of mankind. In fact, their contribution can be accepted -as the merest coincidence—unless you discount Big Jake's liking for -foreign sports cars. But that came later.</p> - -<p>We always have had criminals and crime, and it just happened that -Claggett's gang were the big news that day. It could as easily have -been some other bunch of crooks.</p> - -<p>Anyway, when nine P.M. rolled around, my wall TV burst into -its customary serenade of sound and color, timed for just enough of the -opening commercial to let me settle down to watch Mr. Winkle's news -commentary. It was August 23rd, 1979. At two o'clock that afternoon, -Big Jake Claggett and his gang robbed the Bellefontaine County Savings -Bank and got away with $23,000.</p> - -<p>One of the gang clubbed the elderly bank guard senseless with the -barrel of his revolver. The guard was hospitalized for a possible skull -fracture. Witnesses said Big Jake cursed the gunman who struck the -guard, warning him to "get hold of himself!"</p> - -<p>That was enough for me. The world had to be given my new weapon. (I'm -even more convinced of it now, after discussing it with Sgt. Falasca. -Practically every professional criminal in this country would give -almost anything for the Cooling gun. Then they could commit armed -robbery with no risk of earning a murder rap!) I could see that both -criminals and police officers would welcome it and for one simple -reason.</p> - -<p>It doesn't kill, maim or injure. Even if it should cause a tremendous -increase in robberies and similar crimes, its victims wouldn't be dead. -Better a hundred robberies than one man's death.</p> - -<p>Besides, I had a notion that I could discourage its criminal use.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>First I had to prevent its suppression. Solve that problem and there -wouldn't be any reason I couldn't manufacture the pistols, advertise -them, and sell them exactly as any firearms company can sell .22 -rifles. Except that I should probably do better to arrange for their -manufacture by some established firm.</p> - -<p>That was when I began planning to write this. There is just one -condition under which no secret can be suppressed—<i>when it ceases to -be a secret!</i></p> - -<p>It took preparation. The roughed-out diagrams and scribbled notes a -man uses in research are hardly suitable for publication. Technical -specifications had to be phrased in clear, understandable terms. -The complete data took nearly two weeks to reach final draft. Also, -it seemed best to establish the importance, and at least imply the -probable consequences, of this publication.</p> - -<p>And then, obviously, I had to find a publisher.</p> - -<p>That one had me stumped.</p> - -<p>Furthermore, I suspect it might still have me stumped if I did not now -have the full support of the Governor and the State Police of Ohio. -<i>These police officers want Cooling guns!</i> But even back then, while -I was still the only man on Earth who knew about it, I managed to -formulate a solution of sorts.</p> - -<p>Any publisher would be scared of the thing while only he and I and the -printers knew about it. He'd be risking a Federal injunction, at the -very least, even to consider publishing it.</p> - -<p>But if it were no longer a secret and simply not yet <i>common -knowledge</i>, most publishers would grab it. If, for example, some -manufacturing firm had already considered it and was planning to put -Cooling guns into production....</p> - -<p>Dr. Charles Whitney is currently the president and chief stockholder of -the Cleveland Atomic Equipment Company, which designs and manufactures -special tools and equipment for nuclear power companies, radiation labs -and universities throughout the Midwest. He started the business after -his dismissal from the AEC and built it up gradually over the ensuing -ten years. We have some of his tools at Webster Tech.</p> - -<p>Then, too, Whitney and I had maintained a cursory, but friendly contact -through the years, so naturally I thought of him first. He had the -production layout for the job; what's more, he had the guts to go -through with it. All I had to do was sell him on it.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, by then I was scared silly. I was the furtive, sneaky -little man whose invention would change the world. I contacted Dr. -Whitney with a simple televisor call—but instead of suggesting a -perfectly normal appointment at his office, I had to swear him to -secrecy and arrange a clandestine meeting in the country! I wonder he -didn't consult an almanac to see if there wasn't a full moon that night.</p> - -<p>In fact, I wonder that he came at all. It was pouring rain.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At least six hours are still required to reach Indian Lake in dry -weather, even allowing the Federal Freeway's 125 mph speed limit. -Once through the Columbus Turnoff, you have to double back westward -and northward through a hilly, rural country with twisting county -roads. You must have excellent driving ability to average more than 30 -mph—and it won't be much more—over that maze of roads. When they're -wet, you need driving ability just to stay on them.</p> - -<p>I'd worked late the night before, arranging my material for this -meeting, and didn't arise until noon. One glance at the sky's heavy -overcast told me what to expect. The weather reports confirmed it.</p> - -<p>The world proceeded about its own business, of course, thoroughly -indifferent to a worried man eating his belated breakfast. I was -so completely <i>alone</i>! If I felt any sense of foreboding, stuffing -articles into my pockets, picking up the guinea pigs' case and going -out to the car, I couldn't distinguish it from my feeling of gloom. -Perhaps I did, since the world's affairs caught up with me quite -forcibly that night.</p> - -<p>I met the rain before I was halfway up the Freeway and had to cut -speed clear down to 85.</p> - -<p>The old hotel on Indian Lake was my natural choice for a rendezvous, -since it was a gutted ruin in abandoned backwoods—though "abandoned" -isn't exactly true. Local residents still fish the lake and there are a -few homes around the shore area.</p> - -<p>Strictly speaking, the region has simply changed with the times. Today, -you can't get past the toll-gate onto a Federal Freeway unless you have -a Federal Driver's License and your Vehicle Inspection sticker is up -to date—which changed more things, I think, than nuclear power and -industrial automation.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When people suddenly couldn't drive across the country in any junkheap -with a nut at the wheel, it became a mark of distinction just to <i>live</i> -in the country. That's what made more rural jobs—the small community -shopping centers springing up, products having to be shipped out to -them, the growth of rural power and water systems—when work in the -cities got scarce, with automation taking over the factories.</p> - -<p>But it hit the small resort areas especially hard. More people are -vacationing in the cities now than at the seashore or mountains!</p> - -<p>I hadn't been out to the lake in years, but I had less trouble finding -my way this time than ever before. The influx of new home-builders has -considerably improved the road signs around there, both in number and -accuracy, and that's all you need in a Porsche Apache. My little blue -speedster takes those narrow, rain-slicked county roads like a Skid Row -bum making the saloon circuit with a brand new ten-dollar bill. The -only real problem is getting around those armor-sided Detroit mastodons -that can't decide which end is the front.</p> - -<p>Anyway, driving kept me too busy to think much of anything else. But -I made good time—better than I expected—and it wasn't long after -dark when my headlights cut through the sheeting rain to pick out the -fire-blackened ruin of the hotel.</p> - -<p>I jounced the little Porsche around the deep-rutted drive and parked -next to the empty frame building that had once been the restaurant and -bar.</p> - -<p>I had plenty of time to think, for Dr. Whitney didn't arrive until two -hours later.</p> - -<p>It was sometime during those two hours that the Claggett gang smashed -their way through a police roadblock just outside Lima, their guns -blasting reply to the machine-gun bullets peppering their big sedan. -Two policemen were seriously wounded; one died on the way to the -hospital.</p> - -<p>Shortly afterward, the bullet-riddled sedan was found by the roadside, -but only one of the gang was in it. He was dead.</p> - -<p>And some time later, a call aroused Sgt. Falasca from a sound sleep. -He didn't even take time to don his State Police uniform, but merely -pulled a trenchcoat on over his pajamas, got his revolver out of the -bureau drawer, and kissed his wife on the way out the front door. He -had three other State Troopers to pick up, off-duty as he was, before -proceeding to the assembly point at Lima.</p> - -<p>The Claggett gang had split up, some of them probably wounded, each of -them armed and more dangerous than ever. They were wanted for murder -now.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Dr. Whitney made the trip by helicopter, of course—the head of a -scientific instrument company must keep up appearances. He'd waited as -long as he could, hoping the weather might clear, then had taken off on -instruments and reached the lake by ADF gridmap. He settled to the lake -surface and crept in to shore, his landing lights probing the thick -curtains of rain.</p> - -<p>I heard the hollow roar of his turbine, rather than the throb of his -rotor blades, and hurried around the slanting wing of the old hotel -to meet him. The lakefront presented a macabre view that wrenched at -my memory. The desolate, cracked-stucco walls with the black holes of -their windows rising from mounds of rubble beside me, a weed-grown lawn -and a straggle of trees half-masking the lake—stark-looking trees now, -in the 'copter's landing lights—and a small boat-dock leaning half -into the black water.</p> - -<p>Once, as a rather obnoxious young high-school student, I had seen -this lakefront on just such a night. A steady rain fell, lightning -flickered, and thunder blasted its anger ... and, for a moment, I saw -it as it had been, with that grand old British pioneer of space flight, -Arthur C. Clarke, standing out there in the pelting rain with his -camera, taking pictures of the lightning!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="600" height="182" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Dr. Whitney brought his sleek craft over the treetops and settled -neatly into the small space that remained of the lawn, his rotor tips -almost nicking the crumbled walls of the hotel. It was a plexi-nosed, -three-place executive ship—a Bell, I think. A lot of people prefer -flying. They must fly specific air routes and airfield traffic -patterns; and with airfields so crowded, they have trouble finding a -place to park. It's not for me.</p> - -<p>But Dr. Whitney had heard the newscasts on the way out. I don't recall -what was said at our meeting. It was rather uncomfortable, under the -circumstances—the more so for me, I think, as those circumstances were -my own making. But when we'd rounded the hotel and entered the old -restaurant-bar, I recall Whitney's jocular approval.</p> - -<p>"Well, we're cozy enough here," he said. "So long as the Claggett gang -doesn't drop in on us!"</p> - -<p>That was how I heard of the night's happenings. When he saw that his -remark puzzled me, he related the news while I was setting things up -for our conference. We were in the back room, which had once been the -bar—the front section, formerly the restaurant, had had windows all -around, which now formed an unbroken gap with a chill wind whistling -through it. The place was stripped bare of its former fixtures, but -some unsung fisherman had provided the old barroom with a rickety table -and several pressed-board boxes to sit on. I had a Coleman radiant heat -lantern which I swung from a ceiling wire hook, a plastic sheet which -I threw across the table, and a couple of patio chair cushions for the -boxes.</p> - -<p>It took some shifting about to get everything out of the way of several -roof leaks, and I had to choose a sturdy box for myself, first testing -a few.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I can well imagine the thoughts and emotions struggling through Dr. -Whitney's mind then, but he showed none of them. It was I, rather, with -my clumsy movements, the pauses to polish my glasses, the lump I kept -trying to swallow, who took so long to face up to it.</p> - -<p>But finally we were ready. I took out my notebook and opened it upon -the table before me. Whitney's frosty eyebrows raised. Then he quietly -reached inside his own topcoat, produced his notebook and pen, and laid -the notebook open before him. It was a gesture of an almost-forgotten -past, but a habit neither of us had ever abandoned. Something about -it—the reminder of countless AEC conferences we had both attended—had -a steadying effect on me.</p> - -<p>I placed my pistol in the center of the table. The guinea pigs' cage -was on the floor before us. I told what I had to tell.</p> - -<p>Then I went to the cage, removed one of the animals and tucked it into -my pocket. Returning to the table, I picked up the pistol and fired at -the cage. The shrill E flat note pierced the rushing sound of the rain.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="600" height="196" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Whitney rose and went to the cage. Gently removing the little -creature, he felt it a moment, then nodded.</p> - -<p>"Asleep," he said, and replaced it in the cage.</p> - -<p>Looking over my notes, I see that considerable space would be required -to cover the entire interrogation which followed. Also, I see that -I failed to note down the almost gradual change in my old friend's -demeanor—from his calm, quiet manner at first to the keen-eyed -excitement of his flushed features, his rapid-fire questions at the end.</p> - -<p>I shall, instead, give some examples of that discussion.</p> - -<p>"The guinea pigs sleep for only a half-hour? Always a half-hour?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. It never varies much. A minute or so each way."</p> - -<p>"If you—uh—shoot one, then shoot it again, does that prolong its -sleep any?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all! Still only a half-hour, no matter how many times you shoot -them while they sleep."</p> - -<p>"Ummm. That could indicate sleep is the brain's defense mechanism -against the effects of your ray. A successful defense, it would seem. -They show <i>no</i> after-effects of this?"</p> - -<p>"None whatever. They've begun to associate it with the pistol, though. -Each time I point the pistol at them, they get mad—"</p> - -<p>"You mean angry? They aren't <i>afraid</i> of it?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not afraid! One in my pocket here tries burrowing into -corners, making furious grunting sounds. The other one usually just -stands and glares at me."</p> - -<p>"How about when they wake up?"</p> - -<p>"Well, generally, their first reaction is to keep a sharp eye out for -me—and the pistol."</p> - -<p>"Wary, eh? Damned inconvenient, I suppose, getting knocked asleep all -the time. But it certainly doesn't seem to hurt them. What about mental -disturbance?"</p> - -<p>"No obvious aberrations. But I don't know—"</p> - -<p>"Yes, they're only guinea pigs. Hardly be satisfactory to the American -Medical Association, among others. Take years of research to determine -its absolute safety—"</p> - -<p>"But it should be released to the public now!"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because its harmful effects, if any, are very likely to be -insignificant—or we'd have no doubts about their existence."</p> - -<p>"That assumption <i>could</i> be dangerous."</p> - -<p>"Yes. But there's something else, too. This new weapon will replace -firearms—which certainly <i>do</i> inflict injury, even death."</p> - -<p>"Ah, society's application of it—" And Dr. Whitney took several -minutes to digest that aspect.</p> - -<p>I outlined my plans to him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was incredulous at first, then frankly aghast. "You expect me to -<i>mass-produce</i> that thing?"</p> - -<p>I said I hoped he would.</p> - -<p>He then commenced raking me over the coals in a most fitting and proper -manner. Didn't I realize what I had created? My visions of it freeing -peoples from police-state enslavement were all fine and good, and it -might conceivably have such result; but what I had here was nothing -more than <i>the most fiendish instrument ever inflicted upon human -society</i>!</p> - -<p>What did I think it might do in the hands of muggers, sex offenders, -pickpockets, burglars or worse? Why, our whole civilized culture would -be thrown into chaos! No person would dare ever be alone, for fear of -ambush. No one could sleep without someone else standing watch! No man -could defend his own possessions, no woman could keep her chastity, -unless people were around them, watching them <i>every moment of their -lives</i>!</p> - -<p>Goods could no longer be transported without heavy guard. The -wealthy—who could afford it—would have to live in massive, -well-guarded fortresses. The rest of us would be like the feudal -serf, with nothing worth stealing and quite accustomed to having his -daughters raped. <i>We'd be thrown back into the Dark Ages!</i></p> - -<p>I nodded agreement to everything he said.</p> - -<p>Then I took the guinea pig from my pocket, held it squirming, and -fastened a little collar about its neck. I unwound a wire from the -plastic disc on the collar so Dr. Whitney could see it. He instantly -recognized the tiny node on the wire as a miniature microphone.</p> - -<p>"Remember how you determined that the other pig was asleep?" I asked. -I taped the tiny node to the artery on the pig's neck, carried it -over to the cage, and placed it inside. "I call this my 'Hey, Rube!'" -I explained, grinning. "But imagine it as a little wrist radio -transmitter, worn by everyone who requests them, tuned to the police -broadcast frequency. Radio DF could pinpoint the location in seconds."</p> - -<p>Going back to the table, I picked up the pistol. "This one's just for -demonstration," I added, and fired at the cage.</p> - -<p>As the guinea pig slumped beside its companion, the disc on its collar -emitted a harsh, buzzing noise.</p> - -<p>Whitney chuckled. "Slowed heartbeat, eh? Simple as that!"</p> - -<p>"And better than any burglar alarm," I pointed out. "This one needn't -sit still while some crook disconnects it!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He pointed out, of course, that this might destroy its usefulness to -people in a police-state. The dictator's police and troops could wear -"Hey, Rube!" radios, too. I replied that all the people's underground -fighters would need is a Cooling pistol and a saw-edged meat knife. -One man could knock over a whole platoon and cut their heel-tendons in -minutes. "The American Indians used to collect scalps in less time!" I -said. "But a wounded man's more trouble to the enemy than a dead one. I -think the heel-tendon would be easiest."</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was a bit out of character for me. Whitney looked at me for -a long moment, and blinked. Both eyes, tight.</p> - -<p>But still he didn't think much of my plans.</p> - -<p>His subsequent suggestions were far more rational, however, than the -ones I had evolved through fear.</p> - -<p>First, we didn't really know the Armed Forces <i>would</i> suppress this -gun. They were completely involved in their problems of space flight -and military satellites; there probably wasn't anyone left in -Washington who was even looking for secret weapons now. And we just -might get this gun through while they weren't looking.</p> - -<p>He suggested, therefore, that I attempt to patent my invention. But -that we should take adequate safeguards: I must handle all patent -correspondence through his office. Then, if the Armed Forces clamped -down, they'd come there first—and he could tip me off in time to -escape. I'd have to flee the country. But at least I'd be free and we -could adopt other measures for bringing out the gun.</p> - -<p>It would be pointless now to disclose what other plans and arrangements -we made. It's enough to say I agreed. The discussion then turned to -further speculation of what the future might be with the Cooling gun.</p> - -<p>Whitney was not at all convinced it would be good, but, rather, that -neither we nor any group of men had the right to decide what humanity -should or should not do.</p> - -<p>He had strong doubts that it would mean the end of dictatorship. -"Dictators dream world conquest, and dreams like that breed war," he -said. "But they aren't the only ones to blame. You'll find people who -<i>like</i> dictatorships!"</p> - -<p>But the truth was that most of humanity didn't want to get involved, -never realizing that that involved them more than anything else could.</p> - -<p>It was at approximately this time, so far as I can determine, that Big -Jake Claggett and one of his henchmen walked up to a service station -where a Porsche speedster was getting gas. They clubbed the station -attendant unconscious, hauled the driver out of the little sports car -and took off in it.</p> - -<p>Dr. Whitney left me with a problem. What could be done to keep people -alert? It is this one thing that will determine the Cooling gun's -effect on the world—whether as an instrument of crime or protection -for the weak, the innocent.</p> - -<p>Where people are complacent, it will be a boon to thieves and -revolutionaries.</p> - -<p>Where people are alert—</p> - -<p>But what could keep us alert?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Driving back, I was preoccupied, hardly conscious of the little car's -deft progress over the slick roads. It was almost with a feeling of -detached interest that I saw the black skid-marks at the bottom of the -hill—then, with chill shock, the dark bulk of the sedan on its side in -the ditch.</p> - -<p>I was slowing when a flashlight beam raked outward from the car, -showing crumpled metal and broken headlights. One figure, perhaps -two, were standing behind it. Another one, a man in a trenchcoat, -mud-splattered almost to his hips, was walking onto the road in front -of me, flagging me down.</p> - -<p>"Get out of that car!"</p> - -<p>There were exasperation and rage in his voice, an expression of utter -fury on his face. He stood just at the edge of my headlights' glare, -not directly in it, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets.</p> - -<p>There was that. There was the speed of the sedan, as evidenced by -its skid-marks. My mind leaped instantly to one nerve-shattering -conclusion—</p> - -<p>And I felt absolutely calm. I can't explain that. It may have been that -the night's events had already drained me of tense emotion.</p> - -<p><i>They're armed</i>, I thought, <i>but so am I! And I have a weapon that can -get them all with one sweep—</i></p> - -<p>This, while I opened the door and climbed out. While I thrust my hand -into my own pocket.</p> - -<p>I whipped out the little pistol.</p> - -<p>One instant, he was standing still, hands thrust in the wet -trenchcoat. The next, a heavy revolver exploded at his hip. A -sledgehammer caught me in the right side, knocked me reeling.</p> - -<p>It occurred to me then, lying there on the road, cold rain pelting my -face, a warm wetness spreading along my side. I had met the one pitfall -we shall never escape in a pistol-packing society: the man who's faster -with a gun than you are!</p> - -<p>Bending over me, Sgt. Nicolas Falasca picked up the little plastic -Cooling gun and straightened up, peering at it, scowling. "What the -hell!" he muttered.</p> - -<p>I was rather inclined to agree.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Naturally, this had to be told. The State of Ohio wants Cooling guns -for its police officers; after this, other States will undoubtedly -follow suit. The Armed Forces don't want to suppress it. And Dr. -Whitney will start production in just another week.</p> - -<p>They've been very decent about paying my hospital bills and seeing that -nothing else happens to me.</p> - -<p>Even though Sgt. Falasca was saddled with the latter responsibility, I -must repeat that he's treated me very well. The future will depend a -lot on men like him.</p> - -<p>As for the rest—I've been assured that the guinea pigs were honorably -retired to the breeding farm; Nurse wouldn't let me keep them here. -Everyone knows of the violent end of the Claggett gang.</p> - -<p>I want to state vigorously at this point that, despite widespread -public belief, neither I nor the Cooling gun had anything whatsoever to -do with it. I never at any time even saw Claggett or any member of his -gang. Their unwitting contribution was the alerting of Sgt. Falasca and -the rest of the police, and, as I mentioned at the beginning of this -account, Claggett's stealing a Porsche like mine because he was fond of -sports cars.</p> - -<p>That's the whole of the story, except for one additional item:</p> - -<p>This is scheduled to appear at the same time as the plans and -specifications for the Cooling gun. You'll find them given as premiums -with safety razors, breakfast cereals, cigarettes and other articles. I -wish to thank the manufacturers for their kind cooperation.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Touch of E Flat, by Joe Gibson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TOUCH OF E FLAT *** - -***** This file should be named 51304-h.htm or 51304-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/0/51304/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Touch of E Flat - -Author: Joe Gibson - -Release Date: February 26, 2016 [EBook #51304] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TOUCH OF E FLAT *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - A Touch of E Flat - - By JOE GIBSON - - Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction May 1957. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - Warning: never let anyone point any weapon - at you; even something as harmless-looking - as a water pistol--it may be a Cooling gun! - - -Most people can find something wrong with the world, and some make a -practice of it, but few people ever get the chance to do something -about it--and those few usually go down in history with a resounding -crash. - -Well, it's been rather noisy around here. - -From the very beginning, it had been my intention to write this -account. But I certainly hadn't intended to write it while residing -under police surveillance in the Recuperating Ward of St. Luke's -Memorial Hospital. Nor did I expect the interest and encouragement of -the police officer who put me here. Nonetheless, Sgt. Nicolas Falasca -of the Ohio State Police has been most helpful both in the many long -discussions we have had and in procuring the notes and data from my -laboratory for the preparation of this manuscript. - -But I'm afraid there shall be a considerable lot of me in this -manuscript--which, I hastily assert, is not its purpose at all. My -apologies for that. Fact is, there's a considerable lot of me, as -anyone can see. The term I rather prefer using is roly-poly. - -For the record, however, I am duly Certified-at-Birth as one Albert -Jamieson Cooling, to which has been added, by my own modest efforts, -a few odd alphabetic symbols such as M.S. and Ph.D. I am currently -holding down a professorship at a small, privately endowed Tech -college, have some mentionable background in both nuclear physics and -biochemistry, possess a choice collection of rather good jazz records, -have a particular fondness for barbecued spareribs--and, of late, have -become an inventor. - -If I've left something out, such as horn-rimmed glasses, then, by the -point of my little black beard, it must be the wardrobe of 36 sport -jackets. Wives? Well, I've been tempted, but a professor's salary can't -support alimony. - - * * * * * - -My discovery of the Cooling Effect itself came quite by accident. -But twice now, that accident has almost killed me. It may be argued -that this is no more than I should have expected, however, since the -invention which "followed naturally" can only be called one thing. - -I have invented a new weapon. - -That's right--a Cooling gun. - -But let it be said that because I was once a war scientist, my -inventiveness must therefore tend toward weapons and I should be -strongly tempted to reach for the nearest one available. The term war -scientist has been used so much, and has grown so commonplace, that it -has become universally accepted as the label for anyone who spent as -little as six weeks in the old AEC. I was in it for six years, and I -voluntarily walked out. - -The official policies and inter-agency politics of that era seem of -little consequence now, when we have three permanent space satellites -circling the Earth and one of them is Russian. We're no longer in a -weapons race; both sides have reached the Ultimate Weapon in that -contest. Nobody's hiding or betraying classified secrets any more. -There's all that silicon-rich basalt waiting to be cheaply processed -out on the Moon, if we can only get there.... - -Back in '69, the official news releases were still boasting how much -bigger was each new toy we rolled out of the workshop, how much -more terrible destruction it would wreak than the last one. That was -hogwash dished out by our PR boys (and, on the other side, by the Reds' -Propaganda Ministry) simply because people didn't know any better. -Actually, our toys that made the biggest bang were the worst flops as -weapons. - -You don't conquer an enemy by exterminating him. A hundred million -corpses are no problem--just use bulldozers and they're out of the way. -But a hundred million living, breathing, freezing, starving, filthy and -ragged human beings can raise one hell of an uproar. And they usually -do. Some of us felt that we wouldn't need to knock off even a third of -Russia's major cities. Much less, in fact. - -Dr. Charles Whitney made the mistake of saying so. And they canned him. -The scuttlebutt was that Doc's conscience backfired. I know better; I -saw the explosion. It was his patience, not his conscience. - -Anyway, I turned in my resignation two weeks later. I walked out, kept -my mouth shut and settled down to a small college professorship. I -mention these events now simply because I believe it was there that the -development of the Cooling gun actually started. - - * * * * * - -I had begun to see what devastating weapons could never achieve. They -_had_ deterred warfare, at least up to that August of 1969, by their -threat of utter destruction--and perhaps Whitney deserved to get -canned--but they offered no guarantee for the future. And they couldn't -liberate a conquered nation or protect people from a dictator's secret -police. - -It was time we had something better. (We did, of course, but only a -small part of the AEC was in on the development of atomic rockets.) -Until we did, I could sense that we were simply going through the -motions. - -But it all began to go places fast with that cold research we were -dabbling in, last semester. In fact, it was my fault that General -Atomics tossed that little problem into our Cold Lab here at Webster -Tech--my own past service in the AEC, my rather unusual background -combining nuclear physics and biochemistry, and the post-grad crew I've -managed to accumulate under my professorial wing. - -The whole deal was shoveled obligingly into my Christmas stocking and -the rest of the faculty obligingly left me to play with it--providing I -continued to conduct my regular classes, of course. - -Perhaps it's just as well I kept my hand in, though, because that line -of research got rapidly nowhere. We found that materials which have -their temperatures reduced to near-absolute zero are just plain cold. -Bring them into room temperature and strange things happen sometimes -that isn't just them trying to warm up. It isn't friction-loss and it -isn't radiation damage and it isn't entropy. - -It shows. - -There's a band of radiant energy somewhere between ultrasonics and -radiant heat that hits fast and goes deep, and comes out just as -fast, and it gets triggered off by whatever this is that happens with -near-absolute zero objects subjected to room temperature. But the whole -thing is so negligible that for most practical purposes it can be -ignored. - -Finding _that_ out cost General Atomics thirty thousand dollars, -but our kids in the Cold Lab had a ball rigging the Mad Scientist's -super-disintegrator gizmo that reproduced the phenomenon. - -Then, that night--it's nearly four months ago now--I was alone in the -lab, just switched off the lights, about to close up and go home. And I -stumbled over the corner of the thing. Scrambling up, somehow I put my -foot into it. And reaching out to grasp its frame, to steady myself, my -hand hit the switch. It went on and I went out. - -It was still on--I thought--when I regained consciousness, spraddled -out on the concrete floor. I pulled the switch open and jerked the cord -out of the wall socket. - - * * * * * - -When I got home, there wasn't a bruise or a bump on my noggin. Nor the -faintest sign of a burn anywhere on my foot or leg or even on the sole -of my shoe. - -That was a Tuesday night. - -The next day, the lab remained closed. But that night, I went in, -switched the lights on and studied the machine. It showed absolutely -no sign of damage, no burned insulation, nothing. I stuck my hand into -it and closed the switch. It came on with its usual quiet hum. Nothing -happened. - -It was almost a week before I heard that the janitor was still -wondering who'd blown all the campus fuses on Tuesday night. Then I -remembered that I hadn't switched the lights back on when I regained -consciousness. - -I had been blinded when I switched them off, had stumbled over the -machine, fallen, all the rest of it. But I'd come to with night vision, -naturally. I saw well enough then by the moonlight streaming in the lab -windows. All the lights--the machine, too--could have been off, with -the fuses blown, without my noticing it. I had assumed the machine was -on because its switch was closed, had opened the switch and jerked out -the cord plug. - -What happened had therefore required a tremendous spurt of juice in -the circuits, or else a heck of a lot less juice than we carry in our -lab outlets. So I took home the prints on the rig and began making -changes. Which led to more changes. Which resulted in some rather -complicated mathematics to which we scientific chaps resort when the -kind we teach in colleges just won't work out right. I got it: a very -low power-input. And I got more. - -The thing is a sort of invisible ray. It can only be emitted, -or broadcast, as a narrow beam from the muzzle-coils of a very -fancy-looking electronic rig. Low power is a must; more juice not only -heats up the rig and smokes insulation, but it won't shoot the beam. - -I tested it on the black tulips (Biochemical Research Project 187) -which I got to close up by the clock, not by the Sun, last year -(Project 187-A) and their blossoms closed each time the beam touched -them. The purple mushrooms which fluff their tops in radioactivity -showed no effects. - -It works on a simple "A" battery. But there's a transistor hookup that -behaves like no transistor. Its molecular structure vibrates, which it -shouldn't, and emits a sharp, keening note in the vicinity of E flat. A -rather bulky muffler would be required, I'm afraid, to get rid of that -noise. - -But the oddest thing, technically, is that invisible ray-beam. It -hasn't any of the effects of electric shock. I'll not go into the -electro-neurological aspects of that--nobody could understand it -except, just possibly, a neurologist--but the simple fact is that this -ray puts a victim to sleep instantly _and it doesn't do anything else_! - -No blockages or convulsions of nerve ganglia, not even a temporary -catharsis of "mild" shock! Apparently it gallops up the "white -matter" of the nervous system quite harmlessly, then smacks the "gray -matter"--the brain, the spinal column--a good wallop. Painlessly. - -In short, the victim just flops over and snores up a half-hour or so, -and then awakens as if from a short nap, though perhaps with some -puzzlement. There is no injury whatsoever. - - * * * * * - -Naturally I wanted to find out how the Cooling Effect worked and -why--though I may never learn _what_ it is. Hypnosis? Artificially -induced, instantaneous sleep? (Victims can be handled without -awakening.) Of course, I was curious. I'd have gone through it step by -step for my own satisfaction, even if somebody else had already done it -before. - -Nobody had--and it wasn't easy. During the rest of the term, even -through final exams, I devoted every spare moment to the Cooling -Effect. Even so, it took another two months' hot sweat--the summer -vacation's practically gone now--to get those final diagrams onto my -drawing board. - -But once I did, there it was, at least its basic circuits and -components. All I needed was to juggle them around, coax them into a -slim, tubular case, put a carved butt on it containing the "A" battery -and give it a push-button trigger. With that data, any good bench-hand -in an electrical repair shop could have done the job. I fashioned it -out of plastic and odds and ends in my basement laboratory. - -A glance in the telephone Red Book gave me the number of a local -breeding farm and a call soon brought a pair of fat, inquisitive -guinea pigs in a small, wire-screened carrying cage. Beyond the patio -wall, my house sides directly on open pasturage, and beyond that, -lower in the valley, the alfalfa field begins. With a brisk pacing off -of a base-line and some rough, splay-thumbed triangulation, I soon -determined my new weapon's effectiveness from point-blank range to a -thousand yards--on guinea pigs, that is. - -At nine hundred yards, it still knocked them over for the count. At a -thousand yards, it had no effect whatever, so far as I could determine -through field glasses. The animals gave no sign that they even noticed -it. That, plus the nature of the mechanism, indicates its application -is definitely limited. Whether you make it small enough to fit a lady's -purse or as big as an atomic cannon, its maximum effective range will -still remain 900 yards. And not just on guinea pigs. - -I already knew from my own experience what it does to a man at close -range. Blowing the fuses on the whole campus had been the real danger -there, however. Had it been the slightest bit different, even to the -position of my foot in that big machine, I should certainly have been -electrocuted that night. - -That was the first time it almost killed me. - - * * * * * - -The Cooling Effect is worthless as an anesthetic for surgery. While the -sleeping guinea pigs don't awaken when I pick them up out of their -cage and handle them, even pulling their legs, they do struggle. They -resist, like sleeping animals, not wanting to be disturbed. Still, I -pinched them and bounced them and they invariably slept through an -approximate half-hour. It's shock, and it isn't. It's sleep, and it -isn't. - -But I certainly knew it was a weapon. A new weapon. And man alive, -_what_ a weapon! - -I turned the guinea pigs loose in the patio, let them scamper, then -tumbled them both with a quick sweep of the beam. - - * * * * * - -One man in ambush could knock over a whole company of marching troops! - -The guns could be mounted on tripods with a rotating mechanism that -kept them sweeping the area constantly. Anyone who approached within -900 yards would go down--then wake up, climb back to their feet, and go -down again every half-hour. Man or animal. The guns could be strung out -to cover a whole sector, then wired to a single main switch--and one -lone observer could stop an infantry advance. - -But they wouldn't stop guided missiles or even mortar fire. Nor would -they deflect through peepholes on a tank or pillbox. There isn't -quite that much "scatter" from the beam reflecting off a hard surface. -However, there is some--I fired through the wire-screen openings of the -cage and had the beam glance directly off the back wall, often knocking -the guinea pigs down without hitting them directly. It went through -a handkerchief easily, even when folded thick. A thin glass tumbler, -however, stopped it. - -You could take cover from it almost anywhere--if you knew when you -were going to be shot at. You could wear a light plastic armor--if -the joints were sealed and you kept it hooked to about a fifty-pound -air-condition unit. No problem at all if you ride a motor scooter. - -It wouldn't stop an invading army, but it could certainly raise the -devil with the occupation. Almost anyone could make the gun. Given the -components of a pocket radio, a few pieces of copper wire, a few sticks -of chewing gum and a penknife, I could whittle one out of wood or put -it into a plastic toy water-pistol. - -But what the Armed Forces _don't_ want right now is a new secret -weapon! They have their manned satellite now, keeping its vigil over -the arsenals of Earth, their big atomic missiles ready to jump off -against preset targets--but with the frightful unknown of deep space -chilling their backsides. - -And, too, I can imagine trying to sell those Generals on something that -won't even stop a tank. - -I'm afraid I forgot to shut off the kitchen monitor that night. The -servos dished out the dinner menu I'd dialed before noon, then whisked -it away when it got cold. I noticed it when the waste processor's -stuttering hum went on a bit longer than usual. - - * * * * * - -I realized all too clearly what a predicament I was in. - -The Armed Forces would undoubtedly suppress my invention. Their lives -are nightmarish enough already--not knowing what they'll find out in -space or how it will affect matters. What's more, they would suppress -_me_! There are certain retroactive clauses in that contract I signed -with the AEC which would do the job with complete legality. A nice -little hideaway, then, with nothing for miles but security guards, -radar traps, trip-wires and electric fences. - -But that was the kindest fate I could expect. Quite a number of -assorted big and small dictators might like my head blown off. - -The most obvious alternative was to suppress the invention myself. To -destroy all traces of my experiments and forget about it. To convince -myself the world wasn't ready for it. - -It's quite possible I might have--if I hadn't kept forgetting to shut -off things--and if not for an unsavory little group. - -There is small chance that Big Jake Claggett and his three henchmen -will ever be remembered for their unwitting contribution to science -and the future of mankind. In fact, their contribution can be accepted -as the merest coincidence--unless you discount Big Jake's liking for -foreign sports cars. But that came later. - -We always have had criminals and crime, and it just happened that -Claggett's gang were the big news that day. It could as easily have -been some other bunch of crooks. - -Anyway, when nine P.M. rolled around, my wall TV burst into -its customary serenade of sound and color, timed for just enough of the -opening commercial to let me settle down to watch Mr. Winkle's news -commentary. It was August 23rd, 1979. At two o'clock that afternoon, -Big Jake Claggett and his gang robbed the Bellefontaine County Savings -Bank and got away with $23,000. - -One of the gang clubbed the elderly bank guard senseless with the -barrel of his revolver. The guard was hospitalized for a possible skull -fracture. Witnesses said Big Jake cursed the gunman who struck the -guard, warning him to "get hold of himself!" - -That was enough for me. The world had to be given my new weapon. (I'm -even more convinced of it now, after discussing it with Sgt. Falasca. -Practically every professional criminal in this country would give -almost anything for the Cooling gun. Then they could commit armed -robbery with no risk of earning a murder rap!) I could see that both -criminals and police officers would welcome it and for one simple -reason. - -It doesn't kill, maim or injure. Even if it should cause a tremendous -increase in robberies and similar crimes, its victims wouldn't be dead. -Better a hundred robberies than one man's death. - -Besides, I had a notion that I could discourage its criminal use. - - * * * * * - -First I had to prevent its suppression. Solve that problem and there -wouldn't be any reason I couldn't manufacture the pistols, advertise -them, and sell them exactly as any firearms company can sell .22 -rifles. Except that I should probably do better to arrange for their -manufacture by some established firm. - -That was when I began planning to write this. There is just one -condition under which no secret can be suppressed--_when it ceases to -be a secret!_ - -It took preparation. The roughed-out diagrams and scribbled notes a -man uses in research are hardly suitable for publication. Technical -specifications had to be phrased in clear, understandable terms. -The complete data took nearly two weeks to reach final draft. Also, -it seemed best to establish the importance, and at least imply the -probable consequences, of this publication. - -And then, obviously, I had to find a publisher. - -That one had me stumped. - -Furthermore, I suspect it might still have me stumped if I did not now -have the full support of the Governor and the State Police of Ohio. -_These police officers want Cooling guns!_ But even back then, while -I was still the only man on Earth who knew about it, I managed to -formulate a solution of sorts. - -Any publisher would be scared of the thing while only he and I and the -printers knew about it. He'd be risking a Federal injunction, at the -very least, even to consider publishing it. - -But if it were no longer a secret and simply not yet _common -knowledge_, most publishers would grab it. If, for example, some -manufacturing firm had already considered it and was planning to put -Cooling guns into production.... - -Dr. Charles Whitney is currently the president and chief stockholder of -the Cleveland Atomic Equipment Company, which designs and manufactures -special tools and equipment for nuclear power companies, radiation labs -and universities throughout the Midwest. He started the business after -his dismissal from the AEC and built it up gradually over the ensuing -ten years. We have some of his tools at Webster Tech. - -Then, too, Whitney and I had maintained a cursory, but friendly contact -through the years, so naturally I thought of him first. He had the -production layout for the job; what's more, he had the guts to go -through with it. All I had to do was sell him on it. - -Unfortunately, by then I was scared silly. I was the furtive, sneaky -little man whose invention would change the world. I contacted Dr. -Whitney with a simple televisor call--but instead of suggesting a -perfectly normal appointment at his office, I had to swear him to -secrecy and arrange a clandestine meeting in the country! I wonder he -didn't consult an almanac to see if there wasn't a full moon that night. - -In fact, I wonder that he came at all. It was pouring rain. - - * * * * * - -At least six hours are still required to reach Indian Lake in dry -weather, even allowing the Federal Freeway's 125 mph speed limit. -Once through the Columbus Turnoff, you have to double back westward -and northward through a hilly, rural country with twisting county -roads. You must have excellent driving ability to average more than 30 -mph--and it won't be much more--over that maze of roads. When they're -wet, you need driving ability just to stay on them. - -I'd worked late the night before, arranging my material for this -meeting, and didn't arise until noon. One glance at the sky's heavy -overcast told me what to expect. The weather reports confirmed it. - -The world proceeded about its own business, of course, thoroughly -indifferent to a worried man eating his belated breakfast. I was -so completely _alone_! If I felt any sense of foreboding, stuffing -articles into my pockets, picking up the guinea pigs' case and going -out to the car, I couldn't distinguish it from my feeling of gloom. -Perhaps I did, since the world's affairs caught up with me quite -forcibly that night. - -I met the rain before I was halfway up the Freeway and had to cut -speed clear down to 85. - -The old hotel on Indian Lake was my natural choice for a rendezvous, -since it was a gutted ruin in abandoned backwoods--though "abandoned" -isn't exactly true. Local residents still fish the lake and there are a -few homes around the shore area. - -Strictly speaking, the region has simply changed with the times. Today, -you can't get past the toll-gate onto a Federal Freeway unless you have -a Federal Driver's License and your Vehicle Inspection sticker is up -to date--which changed more things, I think, than nuclear power and -industrial automation. - - * * * * * - -When people suddenly couldn't drive across the country in any junkheap -with a nut at the wheel, it became a mark of distinction just to _live_ -in the country. That's what made more rural jobs--the small community -shopping centers springing up, products having to be shipped out to -them, the growth of rural power and water systems--when work in the -cities got scarce, with automation taking over the factories. - -But it hit the small resort areas especially hard. More people are -vacationing in the cities now than at the seashore or mountains! - -I hadn't been out to the lake in years, but I had less trouble finding -my way this time than ever before. The influx of new home-builders has -considerably improved the road signs around there, both in number and -accuracy, and that's all you need in a Porsche Apache. My little blue -speedster takes those narrow, rain-slicked county roads like a Skid Row -bum making the saloon circuit with a brand new ten-dollar bill. The -only real problem is getting around those armor-sided Detroit mastodons -that can't decide which end is the front. - -Anyway, driving kept me too busy to think much of anything else. But -I made good time--better than I expected--and it wasn't long after -dark when my headlights cut through the sheeting rain to pick out the -fire-blackened ruin of the hotel. - -I jounced the little Porsche around the deep-rutted drive and parked -next to the empty frame building that had once been the restaurant and -bar. - -I had plenty of time to think, for Dr. Whitney didn't arrive until two -hours later. - -It was sometime during those two hours that the Claggett gang smashed -their way through a police roadblock just outside Lima, their guns -blasting reply to the machine-gun bullets peppering their big sedan. -Two policemen were seriously wounded; one died on the way to the -hospital. - -Shortly afterward, the bullet-riddled sedan was found by the roadside, -but only one of the gang was in it. He was dead. - -And some time later, a call aroused Sgt. Falasca from a sound sleep. -He didn't even take time to don his State Police uniform, but merely -pulled a trenchcoat on over his pajamas, got his revolver out of the -bureau drawer, and kissed his wife on the way out the front door. He -had three other State Troopers to pick up, off-duty as he was, before -proceeding to the assembly point at Lima. - -The Claggett gang had split up, some of them probably wounded, each of -them armed and more dangerous than ever. They were wanted for murder -now. - - * * * * * - -Dr. Whitney made the trip by helicopter, of course--the head of a -scientific instrument company must keep up appearances. He'd waited as -long as he could, hoping the weather might clear, then had taken off on -instruments and reached the lake by ADF gridmap. He settled to the lake -surface and crept in to shore, his landing lights probing the thick -curtains of rain. - -I heard the hollow roar of his turbine, rather than the throb of his -rotor blades, and hurried around the slanting wing of the old hotel -to meet him. The lakefront presented a macabre view that wrenched at -my memory. The desolate, cracked-stucco walls with the black holes of -their windows rising from mounds of rubble beside me, a weed-grown lawn -and a straggle of trees half-masking the lake--stark-looking trees now, -in the 'copter's landing lights--and a small boat-dock leaning half -into the black water. - -Once, as a rather obnoxious young high-school student, I had seen -this lakefront on just such a night. A steady rain fell, lightning -flickered, and thunder blasted its anger ... and, for a moment, I saw -it as it had been, with that grand old British pioneer of space flight, -Arthur C. Clarke, standing out there in the pelting rain with his -camera, taking pictures of the lightning! - -Dr. Whitney brought his sleek craft over the treetops and settled -neatly into the small space that remained of the lawn, his rotor tips -almost nicking the crumbled walls of the hotel. It was a plexi-nosed, -three-place executive ship--a Bell, I think. A lot of people prefer -flying. They must fly specific air routes and airfield traffic -patterns; and with airfields so crowded, they have trouble finding a -place to park. It's not for me. - -But Dr. Whitney had heard the newscasts on the way out. I don't recall -what was said at our meeting. It was rather uncomfortable, under the -circumstances--the more so for me, I think, as those circumstances were -my own making. But when we'd rounded the hotel and entered the old -restaurant-bar, I recall Whitney's jocular approval. - -"Well, we're cozy enough here," he said. "So long as the Claggett gang -doesn't drop in on us!" - -That was how I heard of the night's happenings. When he saw that his -remark puzzled me, he related the news while I was setting things up -for our conference. We were in the back room, which had once been the -bar--the front section, formerly the restaurant, had had windows all -around, which now formed an unbroken gap with a chill wind whistling -through it. The place was stripped bare of its former fixtures, but -some unsung fisherman had provided the old barroom with a rickety table -and several pressed-board boxes to sit on. I had a Coleman radiant heat -lantern which I swung from a ceiling wire hook, a plastic sheet which -I threw across the table, and a couple of patio chair cushions for the -boxes. - -It took some shifting about to get everything out of the way of several -roof leaks, and I had to choose a sturdy box for myself, first testing -a few. - - * * * * * - -I can well imagine the thoughts and emotions struggling through Dr. -Whitney's mind then, but he showed none of them. It was I, rather, with -my clumsy movements, the pauses to polish my glasses, the lump I kept -trying to swallow, who took so long to face up to it. - -But finally we were ready. I took out my notebook and opened it upon -the table before me. Whitney's frosty eyebrows raised. Then he quietly -reached inside his own topcoat, produced his notebook and pen, and laid -the notebook open before him. It was a gesture of an almost-forgotten -past, but a habit neither of us had ever abandoned. Something about -it--the reminder of countless AEC conferences we had both attended--had -a steadying effect on me. - -I placed my pistol in the center of the table. The guinea pigs' cage -was on the floor before us. I told what I had to tell. - -Then I went to the cage, removed one of the animals and tucked it into -my pocket. Returning to the table, I picked up the pistol and fired at -the cage. The shrill E flat note pierced the rushing sound of the rain. - -Whitney rose and went to the cage. Gently removing the little -creature, he felt it a moment, then nodded. - -"Asleep," he said, and replaced it in the cage. - -Looking over my notes, I see that considerable space would be required -to cover the entire interrogation which followed. Also, I see that -I failed to note down the almost gradual change in my old friend's -demeanor--from his calm, quiet manner at first to the keen-eyed -excitement of his flushed features, his rapid-fire questions at the end. - -I shall, instead, give some examples of that discussion. - -"The guinea pigs sleep for only a half-hour? Always a half-hour?" - -"Yes. It never varies much. A minute or so each way." - -"If you--uh--shoot one, then shoot it again, does that prolong its -sleep any?" - -"Not at all! Still only a half-hour, no matter how many times you shoot -them while they sleep." - -"Ummm. That could indicate sleep is the brain's defense mechanism -against the effects of your ray. A successful defense, it would seem. -They show _no_ after-effects of this?" - -"None whatever. They've begun to associate it with the pistol, though. -Each time I point the pistol at them, they get mad--" - -"You mean angry? They aren't _afraid_ of it?" - -"Certainly not afraid! One in my pocket here tries burrowing into -corners, making furious grunting sounds. The other one usually just -stands and glares at me." - -"How about when they wake up?" - -"Well, generally, their first reaction is to keep a sharp eye out for -me--and the pistol." - -"Wary, eh? Damned inconvenient, I suppose, getting knocked asleep all -the time. But it certainly doesn't seem to hurt them. What about mental -disturbance?" - -"No obvious aberrations. But I don't know--" - -"Yes, they're only guinea pigs. Hardly be satisfactory to the American -Medical Association, among others. Take years of research to determine -its absolute safety--" - -"But it should be released to the public now!" - -"Why?" - -"Because its harmful effects, if any, are very likely to be -insignificant--or we'd have no doubts about their existence." - -"That assumption _could_ be dangerous." - -"Yes. But there's something else, too. This new weapon will replace -firearms--which certainly _do_ inflict injury, even death." - -"Ah, society's application of it--" And Dr. Whitney took several -minutes to digest that aspect. - -I outlined my plans to him. - - * * * * * - -He was incredulous at first, then frankly aghast. "You expect me to -_mass-produce_ that thing?" - -I said I hoped he would. - -He then commenced raking me over the coals in a most fitting and proper -manner. Didn't I realize what I had created? My visions of it freeing -peoples from police-state enslavement were all fine and good, and it -might conceivably have such result; but what I had here was nothing -more than _the most fiendish instrument ever inflicted upon human -society_! - -What did I think it might do in the hands of muggers, sex offenders, -pickpockets, burglars or worse? Why, our whole civilized culture would -be thrown into chaos! No person would dare ever be alone, for fear of -ambush. No one could sleep without someone else standing watch! No man -could defend his own possessions, no woman could keep her chastity, -unless people were around them, watching them _every moment of their -lives_! - -Goods could no longer be transported without heavy guard. The -wealthy--who could afford it--would have to live in massive, -well-guarded fortresses. The rest of us would be like the feudal -serf, with nothing worth stealing and quite accustomed to having his -daughters raped. _We'd be thrown back into the Dark Ages!_ - -I nodded agreement to everything he said. - -Then I took the guinea pig from my pocket, held it squirming, and -fastened a little collar about its neck. I unwound a wire from the -plastic disc on the collar so Dr. Whitney could see it. He instantly -recognized the tiny node on the wire as a miniature microphone. - -"Remember how you determined that the other pig was asleep?" I asked. -I taped the tiny node to the artery on the pig's neck, carried it -over to the cage, and placed it inside. "I call this my 'Hey, Rube!'" -I explained, grinning. "But imagine it as a little wrist radio -transmitter, worn by everyone who requests them, tuned to the police -broadcast frequency. Radio DF could pinpoint the location in seconds." - -Going back to the table, I picked up the pistol. "This one's just for -demonstration," I added, and fired at the cage. - -As the guinea pig slumped beside its companion, the disc on its collar -emitted a harsh, buzzing noise. - -Whitney chuckled. "Slowed heartbeat, eh? Simple as that!" - -"And better than any burglar alarm," I pointed out. "This one needn't -sit still while some crook disconnects it!" - - * * * * * - -He pointed out, of course, that this might destroy its usefulness to -people in a police-state. The dictator's police and troops could wear -"Hey, Rube!" radios, too. I replied that all the people's underground -fighters would need is a Cooling pistol and a saw-edged meat knife. -One man could knock over a whole platoon and cut their heel-tendons in -minutes. "The American Indians used to collect scalps in less time!" I -said. "But a wounded man's more trouble to the enemy than a dead one. I -think the heel-tendon would be easiest." - -Perhaps it was a bit out of character for me. Whitney looked at me for -a long moment, and blinked. Both eyes, tight. - -But still he didn't think much of my plans. - -His subsequent suggestions were far more rational, however, than the -ones I had evolved through fear. - -First, we didn't really know the Armed Forces _would_ suppress this -gun. They were completely involved in their problems of space flight -and military satellites; there probably wasn't anyone left in -Washington who was even looking for secret weapons now. And we just -might get this gun through while they weren't looking. - -He suggested, therefore, that I attempt to patent my invention. But -that we should take adequate safeguards: I must handle all patent -correspondence through his office. Then, if the Armed Forces clamped -down, they'd come there first--and he could tip me off in time to -escape. I'd have to flee the country. But at least I'd be free and we -could adopt other measures for bringing out the gun. - -It would be pointless now to disclose what other plans and arrangements -we made. It's enough to say I agreed. The discussion then turned to -further speculation of what the future might be with the Cooling gun. - -Whitney was not at all convinced it would be good, but, rather, that -neither we nor any group of men had the right to decide what humanity -should or should not do. - -He had strong doubts that it would mean the end of dictatorship. -"Dictators dream world conquest, and dreams like that breed war," he -said. "But they aren't the only ones to blame. You'll find people who -_like_ dictatorships!" - -But the truth was that most of humanity didn't want to get involved, -never realizing that that involved them more than anything else could. - -It was at approximately this time, so far as I can determine, that Big -Jake Claggett and one of his henchmen walked up to a service station -where a Porsche speedster was getting gas. They clubbed the station -attendant unconscious, hauled the driver out of the little sports car -and took off in it. - -Dr. Whitney left me with a problem. What could be done to keep people -alert? It is this one thing that will determine the Cooling gun's -effect on the world--whether as an instrument of crime or protection -for the weak, the innocent. - -Where people are complacent, it will be a boon to thieves and -revolutionaries. - -Where people are alert-- - -But what could keep us alert? - - * * * * * - -Driving back, I was preoccupied, hardly conscious of the little car's -deft progress over the slick roads. It was almost with a feeling of -detached interest that I saw the black skid-marks at the bottom of the -hill--then, with chill shock, the dark bulk of the sedan on its side in -the ditch. - -I was slowing when a flashlight beam raked outward from the car, -showing crumpled metal and broken headlights. One figure, perhaps -two, were standing behind it. Another one, a man in a trenchcoat, -mud-splattered almost to his hips, was walking onto the road in front -of me, flagging me down. - -"Get out of that car!" - -There were exasperation and rage in his voice, an expression of utter -fury on his face. He stood just at the edge of my headlights' glare, -not directly in it, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets. - -There was that. There was the speed of the sedan, as evidenced by -its skid-marks. My mind leaped instantly to one nerve-shattering -conclusion-- - -And I felt absolutely calm. I can't explain that. It may have been that -the night's events had already drained me of tense emotion. - -_They're armed_, I thought, _but so am I! And I have a weapon that can -get them all with one sweep--_ - -This, while I opened the door and climbed out. While I thrust my hand -into my own pocket. - -I whipped out the little pistol. - -One instant, he was standing still, hands thrust in the wet -trenchcoat. The next, a heavy revolver exploded at his hip. A -sledgehammer caught me in the right side, knocked me reeling. - -It occurred to me then, lying there on the road, cold rain pelting my -face, a warm wetness spreading along my side. I had met the one pitfall -we shall never escape in a pistol-packing society: the man who's faster -with a gun than you are! - -Bending over me, Sgt. Nicolas Falasca picked up the little plastic -Cooling gun and straightened up, peering at it, scowling. "What the -hell!" he muttered. - -I was rather inclined to agree. - - * * * * * - -Naturally, this had to be told. The State of Ohio wants Cooling guns -for its police officers; after this, other States will undoubtedly -follow suit. The Armed Forces don't want to suppress it. And Dr. -Whitney will start production in just another week. - -They've been very decent about paying my hospital bills and seeing that -nothing else happens to me. - -Even though Sgt. Falasca was saddled with the latter responsibility, I -must repeat that he's treated me very well. The future will depend a -lot on men like him. - -As for the rest--I've been assured that the guinea pigs were honorably -retired to the breeding farm; Nurse wouldn't let me keep them here. -Everyone knows of the violent end of the Claggett gang. - -I want to state vigorously at this point that, despite widespread -public belief, neither I nor the Cooling gun had anything whatsoever to -do with it. I never at any time even saw Claggett or any member of his -gang. Their unwitting contribution was the alerting of Sgt. Falasca and -the rest of the police, and, as I mentioned at the beginning of this -account, Claggett's stealing a Porsche like mine because he was fond of -sports cars. - -That's the whole of the story, except for one additional item: - -This is scheduled to appear at the same time as the plans and -specifications for the Cooling gun. You'll find them given as premiums -with safety razors, breakfast cereals, cigarettes and other articles. I -wish to thank the manufacturers for their kind cooperation. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Touch of E Flat, by Joe Gibson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TOUCH OF E FLAT *** - -***** This file should be named 51304.txt or 51304.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/0/51304/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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