Farnsworth caught the ball in a pudgy hand and held it. He was smiling
a little sheepishly. "Interesting effect, isn't it?"
"Now wait a minute," I said, beginning to think about it. "What's the
gimmick? What kind of motor do you have in that thing?"
His eyes were wide and a little hurt. "No gimmick, John. None at all.
Just a very peculiar molecular structure."
"Structure!" I said. "Bouncing balls just don't pick up energy out of
nowhere, I don't care how their molecules are put together. And you
don't get energy out without putting energy in."
"Oh," he said, "that's the really interesting thing. Of course you're
right; energy _does_ go into the ball. Here, I'll show you."
He let the ball drop again and it began bouncing, higher and higher,
until it was hitting the ceiling. Farnsworth reached out to catch it,
but he fumbled and the thing glanced off his hand, hit the mantelpiece
and zipped across the room. It banged into the far wall, richocheted,
banked off three other walls, picking up speed all the time.
When it whizzed by me like a rifle bullet, I began to get worried, but
it hit against one of the heavy draperies by the window and this
damped its motion enough so that it fell to the floor.
* * * * *
It started bouncing again immediately, but Farnsworth scrambled across
the room and grabbed it. He was perspiring a little and he began
instantly to transfer the ball from one hand to another and back again
as if it were hot.
"Here," he said, and handed it to me.