energetic. Fenwick likedhim on sight. He was not a technical man; he was a farmer. But he was aneducated farmer. He had a degree from the State Agricultural College. Hedabbled in amateur radio and electronics as a hobby.
"I'm certainly glad someone is finally willing to give me a break andtake a look at my device," he said as he shook Fenwick's hand. "I've hadnothing but a runaround from this office for the past eight months. Yet,according to all the publicity, this is where the nation's scientificprogress is evaluated."
Fenwick felt like a hypocrite. "We get pretty overloaded," he saidlamely.
They were in Baker's office. Baker watched smugly from behind his desk.Ellerbee said, "Well, we might as well get started. All you have to do,Mr. Fenwick, is hold one of these crystal cubes in your hand. I'll go inthe other office and close the door. It may help at first if you closeyour eyes, but this is not really necessary."
"Wait," said Fenwick. Somehow he wanted to get away from Baker whilethis was going on. "I'd like to take it outside, somewhere in the open.Would that be all right?"
"Sure. Makes no difference where you try it," said Ellerbee. "One placeis as good as another."
Baker waved a hand as they went out. "Good luck," he said. He smiledconfidently at Fenwick.
As far as Fenwick could see, the crystal was not even potted or cased inany way. The raw crystal lay in his hand. The striations of themultitude of layers in which it was laid down were plainly visible.
Ellerbee dropped Fenwick off by the Jefferson memorial, then drove onabout a mile. Still in sight, he stopped the car and got out. Fenwicksaw him wave a hand. Nothing happened.
Fenwick glanced down at the crystal in his hand. About the size of achild's toy block. He could almost understand Baker's position. It _was_pretty silly to suppose this thing could have the powers Ellerbee saidit had. No electric energy applied. It merely amplified the normaltelepathic impulses existing in every human mind, Ellerbee said. Fenwicksighed. You just couldn't tell ahead of time that a thing wasn't goingto pan out. He knew his philosophy was right. These had to beinvestigated--every lousy, crackpot one of them. You could never tellwhat you were missing out on unless you did check.
He squeezed harder on the crystal, as Ellerbee had told him to do.
It was just a little fuzzy at first, fading and coming back. Then it wasthere, shimmering a little, but steady. The image of Ellerbee standingin front of him, grinning.
Fenwick glanced down the road. Ellerbee was still there, a mile away.But he was also right there in front of him, about four feet away.
"It shakes you up a little bit at first," said Ellerbee. "But you getused to it after a while. Anyway, this is it. Are you convinced mydevice works?"
Fenwick shook his head to try to clear it rather than to give a negativeanswer. "I'm convinced _something_ is working," he said. "I'm just notquite sure what it is."
"I'll drive across town," Ellerbee offered. "You can see that distancemakes no difference at all. Later, I'll prove it works clear across thecountry if you want me to."
They arranged that proof of Ellerbee's presence on the other side of thecity could be obtained by Fenwick's calling him at a drug store payphone. Then they would communicate by means of the cubes.
It was no different than before.
The telephone call satisfied Fenwick that Ellerbee was at least tenmiles away. Then, within a second, he also appeared to be standingdirectly in front of Fenwick.
"What do you want?" said Fenwick finally. "What do you want the Bureauto do about your device? How much money do you want for development?"
"Money? I don't need any money!" Ellerbee exploded. "All I want is forthe Government to make some use of the thing. I've had a patent on itfor six months. The Patent Office had sense enough to give me a patent,but nobody else would look at it. I just want somebody to make some useof it!"
"I'm sure a great many practical applications can be found," Fenwicksaid lamely. "We'll have to make a report, first, however. There will bea need for a great many more experiments--"
But most important of all, Baker would have to be shown. Baker wouldhave to _know_ from his own experience that this thing worked.
Fenwick suddenly wanted to get away from Ellerbee as much as he had fromBaker a little earlier. There was just so much a man's aging synapsescould stand, he told himself. He had to do a bit of thinking by himself.When Ellerbee drove up again, Fenwick told him what he wanted.
Ellerbee looked disappointed but resigned. "I hope this isn't anotherrunaround, Mr. Fenwick. You'll pardon me for being blunt, but I've hadsome pretty raw treatment from your office since I started writing aboutmy communicator."
"I promise you this isn't a runaround," said Fenwick, "but it'sabsolutely necessary to get Dr. Baker to view your demonstration. Wewill want to see your laboratories and your methods of production. Ipromise you it won't be more than two or three days, depending on Dr.Baker's busy schedule."
"O.K. I'll wait until the end of the week," said Ellerbee. "If I don'thear something by then, I'll go ahead with my plans to market thecrystals as a novelty gadget."
"I'll be in touch with you. I promise," said Fenwick. He stood by thecurb and watched Ellerbee drive away.
* * * * *
Fenwick moved slowly back to his own car and sat behind the wheelwithout starting the motor. It seemed a long time since nine-thirtyyesterday morning, when he had come in to Baker's office to check on thegrant he had known Baker wasn't going to give him. Now, merely bykicking Baker's refuse pile with his toe, so to speak, he had turned upa diamond that Baker was ready to discard.
Fenwick felt a sudden surge of revulsion. How was it possible for such ablind, ignorant fool as Baker to be placed in the position he was in?How could the administrative officers of the United States Government beresponsible for such misjudgment? Such maladministration, if performedconsciously, would be sheer treason. Yet, unconsciously and ignorantly,Baker's authority was perpetuated, giving him a stranglehold on thecreative powers of the nation.
Fenwick tried to recall how he and Baker had become friends--so longago, in their own college days. It wasn't that there was any closenessor common interest between them, yet they seemed to have drawn togetheras two opposites might. They were both science majors at the time, buttheir philosophies were so different that their studies were hardly acommon ground.
Fenwick figuratively threw away the textbook the first time theprofessor's back was turned. Baker, Fenwick thought, never took his eyesfrom its pages. Fenwick distrusted everything that he could not provehimself. Baker believed nothing that was not solidly fixed in black andwhite and bound between sturdy cloth covers, and prefaced by the name ofa man who boasted at least two graduate degrees.
Fenwick remembered even now his first reaction to Baker. He had neverseen his kind before and could not believe that such existed. Hesupposed Baker felt similarly about him, and, out of the strangecontradiction of their worlds, they formed a hesitant friendship. Forhimself, Fenwick supposed that it was based on a kind of fascination inassociating with one who walked so blindly, who was so profoundlyincapable of understanding his own blindness and peril.
But never before had he realized the absolute danger that rested in thehands of Baker. And there must be others like him in high Governmentscientific circles, Fenwick thought. He had learned long ago thatBaker's kind was somewhere in the background in every laboratory andscientific office.
But few of them achieved the strangling power that Baker now possessed.
The Index! Fenwick thought of it and gagged. Wardrobe evaluation! Staffreading index! The reproductive ratio--social activity index--the indexof hereditary accomplishment--multiply your ancestors by the number oftechnical papers your five-year old children have produced and divide bythe number of book reviews you attend weekly--
Fenwick slumped in the seat. We hold these truths to beself-evident--that the ratio of sports coats to tuxedos in a facultymember's closet shall determine whether Clearwater gets to do
researchin solid state physics, whether George Durrant gives his genius to thenation or whether it gets buried in Dr. William Baker's refuse pile.
But not only George Durrant. Jim Ellerbee, too. And how many others?
Something had to be done.
Fenwick hadn't realized it before, but this was the thought that hadbeen churning in his cortex for the last hour. Something had to be doneabout Bill Baker.
But, short of murder, what?
Getting rid of Baker physically was not the answer, of course. If hewere gone, a hundred others like him would fight for his place.
Baker had to be shown. He had to be shown that high-grading was costinghim the very thing he was