_CHAPTER SIX_
"If we can get television reception with this apparatus of ours," askedGreg, "what is to prevent us from televising? Why can't we send as wellas receive?"
Russ drew doodles on a calculation sheet. "We could. Just something elseto work out. You must remember we're working in a four-dimensionalmedium. That would complicate matters a little. Not like working inthree dimensions alone. It would ..."
He stopped. The pencil fell from his finger and he swung around slowlyto face Manning.
"What's the matter now?" asked Greg.
"Look," said Russ excitedly. "We're working in four dimensions. And ifwe televised through four dimensions, what would we get?"
Greg wrinkled his brow. Suddenly his face relaxed. "You don't mean wecan televise in _three_ dimensions, do you?"
"That's what it should work out to," declared Russ. He swung back to thetable again, picked up his pencil and jotted down equations. He lookedup from the sheet. "Three-dimensional television!" he almost whispered.
"Something new again," commented Greg.
"I'll say it's new!"
Russ reached out and jerked a calculator toward him. Rapidly he set upthe equations, pressed the tabulator lever. The machine gurgled andchuckled, clicked out the result. Bending over to read it, Russ suckedin his breath.
"It's working out right," he said.
"That'll mean new equipment, lots of it," Greg pointed out. "Wilson'sgone, damn him. Who's going to help us?"
"We'll do it ourselves," said Russ. "When we're the only ones here, wecan be sure there won't be any leak."
It took hours of work on the math machines, but at the end of that timeRuss was certain of his ground.
"Now we go to work," he said, gleefully.
In a week's time they had built a triple televisor, but simplificationsof the standard commercial set gave them a mechanism that weighed littlemore and was far more efficient and accurate.
During the time the work went on they maintained a watch over both theoffice of Spencer Chambers and the laboratory in which Dr. HerbertCraven worked 16 hours a day. Unseen, unsuspected, they were silentcompanions of the two men during many hours. They read what the menwrote, read what was written to them, heard what they said, saw how theyacted. Doing so, the pair in the high mountain laboratory gained a deepinsight into the characters of unsuspecting quarries.
"Both utterly ruthless," declared Greg. "But apparently men who aresincere in thinking that the spoils belong to the strong. Strange,almost outdated men. You can't help but like Chambers. He's good enoughat heart. He has his pet charities. He really, I believe, wants to helpthe people. And I think he actually believes the best way to do it is togain a dictatorship over the Solar System. That ambition ruleseverything in his life. It has hardened him and strengthened him. Hewill crush ruthlessly, without a single qualm, anything that stands inhis path. That's why we'll have a fight on our hands."
* * * * *
Craven seemed to be making little progress. They could only guess atwhat he was trying to develop.
"I think," said Russ, "he's working on a collector field to suck inradiant energy. If he really gets that, it will be something worthhaving."
For hours Craven sat, an intent, untidy, unkempt man, sunk deep in thecushions of an easy chair. His face was calm, with relaxed jaw and eyesthat seemed vacant. But each time he would rouse himself from the chairto pencil new notations on the pads of paper that littered his desk. Newideas, new approaches.
The triple televisor was completed except for one thing.
"Sound isn't so easy," said Russ. "If we could only find a way totransmit it as well as light."
"Listen," said Greg, "why don't you try a condenser speaker."
"A condenser speaker?"
"Sure, the gadget developed way back in the 1920s. It hasn't been usedfor years to my knowledge, but it might do the trick."
Russ grinned broadly. "Hell, why didn't I think of that? Here I've beenracking my brain for a new approach, a new wrinkle ... and exactly whatI wanted was at hand."
"Should work," declared Greg. "Just the opposite of a condensermicrophone. Instead of radiating sound waves mechanically, it radiates achanging electric field and this field becomes audible directly withinthe ear. Even yet no one seems to understand just how it works, but itdoes ... and that's good enough."
"I know," said Russ. "It really makes no sound. In other words itcreates an electric field that doubles for sound. It ought to be justthe thing because nothing can stop it. Metal shielding can, I guess, ifit's thick enough, but it's got to be pretty damn thick."
It took time to set the mechanism up. Ready, the massive apparatus,within which glowed a larger and more powerful force field, was operatedby two monstrous material energy engines. The controls were equippedwith clockwork drives, designed so that the motion of the Earth could benullified completely and automatically for work upon outlying planets.
* * * * *
Russ stood back and looked at it. "Stand in front of that screen, Greg,"he said, "and we'll try it on you."
Greg stepped in front of the screen. The purr of power came on.Suddenly, materializing out of the air, came Greg's projection. Hazy andundefined at first, it rapidly assumed apparent solidity. Greg waved hisarm; the image moved its arm.
Russ left the controls and walked across the laboratory to inspect theimage. Examined from all sides, it looked solid. Russ walked throughit and felt nothing. There was nothing there. It was just athree-dimensional image. But even from two feet away, it was as if theman himself stood there in all the actuality of flesh and blood.
"Hello, Russ," the image whispered. It held out a hand. "Glad to see youagain."
Laughing, Russ thrust out his hand. It closed on nothing in mid-air, butthe two men appeared to shake hands.
They tested the machine that afternoon. Their images strode above thetrees, apparently walking on thin air. Gigantic replicas of Greg stoodon a faraway mountain top and shouted with a thunderous voice. Smallerimages, no more than two inches high, shinnied up a table leg.
Satisfied, they shut off the machine.
"That's one of the possibilities you mentioned," suggested Russ.
Greg nodded grimly.
* * * * *
An autumn gale pelted the windows with driving rain, and a wild, wetwind howled through the pines outside. The fire was leaping and flaringin the fireplace.
Deep in his chair, Russ stared into the flame and puffed at his pipe.
"The factory wants more money on the spaceship," said Greg from theother chair. "I had to put up some more shares as collateral on a newloan."
"Market still going down?" asked Russ.
"Not the market," replied Greg. "My stocks. All of them hit new lowstoday."
Russ dragged at the pipe thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about thatstock business, Greg."
"So have I, but it doesn't seem to do much good."
"Look," said Russ slowly, "what planets have exchanges?"
"All of them except Mercury. The Jovian exchange is at Ranthoor. There'seven one out at Pluto. Just mining and chemical shares listed, though."
Russ did not reply. Smoke curled up from his pipe. He was staring intothe fire.
"Why do you ask?" Greg wanted to know.
"Just something stirring around in my mind. I was wondering whereChambers does most of his trading."
"Ranthoor now," said Greg. "Used to do it on Venus. The listing islarger there. But since he took over the Jovian confederacy, he switchedhis business to it. The transaction tax is lower. He saw to that."
"And the same shares are listed on the Callisto market as on the NewYork boards?"
"Naturally," said Greg, "only not as many."
Russ watched the smoke from his pipe. "How long does it take light totravel from Callisto to Earth?"
"Why, about 45 minutes, I guess. Somewhere around there." Greg satup
right. "Say, what's light got to do with this?"
"A lot," said Russ. "All commerce is based on the assumption that lightis instantaneous, but it isn't. All business, anywhere throughout theSolar System, is based on Greenwich time. When a noon signal sent outfrom Earth reaches Mars, it's noon there, but as a matter of fact, it isactually 15 minutes or so past noon. When the same signal reachesCallisto, the correct time for the chronometer used in commerce would benoon when it is really a quarter to one. That system simplifies things.Does away with varying times. And it has worked all right so far becausethere has been, up to now, nothing that could go faster than light. Nonews can travel through space, no message, no signal can be sent at anyspeed greater than that. So everything has been fine."
Greg had come out of the chair, was standing on his feet, the glow ofthe blaze throwing his athletic figure into bold relief. That calmexterior had been stripped from him now. He was excited.
"I see what you are getting at! We have something that is almostinstantaneous!"
"Almost," said Russ. "Not quite. There's a time lag somewhere. But itisn't noticeable except over vast distances."
"But it would beat ordinary light signals to Callisto. It would beatthem there by almost 45 minutes."
"Almost," Russ agreed. "Maybe a split second less."
Greg strode up and down in front of the fireplace like a caged lion. "Byheaven," he said, "we've got Chambers where we want him. We can beat thestock quotations to Callisto. With that advance knowledge of what theboard is doing in New York, we can make back every dime I've lost. Wecan take Mr. Chambers to the cleaners!"
Russ grinned. "Exactly," he said. "We'll know 45 minutes in advance ofthe other traders what the market will be. Let's see Chambers beatthat."