Sincerely,
Thomas Lionel, Ph.D., M.M.
Tungsten casting, antigravity, inefficiency and poltergeists! Tom's
head whirled. With a last-hope gesture, he stalked over to the
chessboard and studied the men.
It bothered him, he was completely frustrated. The room whirled a bit,
despite Tom's fight against it. This was the last straw, this chess
game.
Not that he himself was the absolute loser in this game of living
chess. It was just that he had started something that threatened to
boil over at the edges.
Fundamentally, he'd tried to exorcise the physicist. He'd gone to much
trouble and effort to remove the low-down effect of physicist-thinking
patterns from his immediate locale. Instead--by his supreme efforts to
get rid of the theorist, aforementioned theorist had come up with a
few problems of his own that tickled the imagination, offered all sorts
of interesting problems, and--
Had basically shown how utterly impossibly foolish it would be to try
and get rid of the physicist.
Thomas Lionel, Ph.D., M.M., knew too much to be immediately removed,
obliterated, canceled, or even ignored.
How do you cast tungsten? How do you make antigravity--even on an
inefficient scale? And if a poltergeist is--and you know his address,
as the physicist seemed to, can you hire the throwing-ghost? Brother,
did he have a lot of problems to reduce to practice! He'd have little
time for getting rid of his pal.
Tom Lionel snarled at the chessboard. He'd made his gambit, and instead
of ridding himself of a rather powerful threat to his own security,
he'd--well, he reread the significant sign that presided over the
chessboard and began to growl like an insulted cocker spaniel.
The sign said: