[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine February 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
<i>Natural laws are cliches--"what must be
must be," for instance--and what must be in
this case was, of all people, Dr. Talbot!</i>
The first thirty years of Henry Talbot's life were the most promising.
He was a bright student through high school, and in college his fellow
students often used the word "brilliant" in discussing his mentality;
occasionally even his instructors echoed them.
Upon receiving his bachelor's degree, he went to graduate school and
eventually received his Ph.D. as an experimental nuclear physicist.
He applied for and got a research position at Oak Ridge National
Laboratory, in the Electronuclear Research Division.
Dr. Henry Talbot, brilliant young scientist, began his career
enthusiastically, and ran into a brick wall.
Rather, he crawled up to and against it, for it took several years
for him to discover that his life's route lay not on an unobstructed
downhill slide. Those years slithered past before he looked up and
realized that he had not revolutionized the scientific world; he had
discovered no principle of relativity, no quantum theory.
He stopped working for a moment and looked around. All his colleagues
were enthusiastic and brilliant young scientists. Where at school,
where throughout his life, he had been outstanding, now he was one
of the crowd. What had passed for brilliance before was now merely
competence.
Henry Talbot felt a vague need which he perceived liquor might fill.
That afternoon he left work early for the first time since he had
arrived at Oak Ridge. He had to buy the vodka from a bootlegger,
Oak Ridge being in a dry county. But, as in most dry counties, that
presented no problem. He stopped by Shorty's cab stand, across the
street from the police department, and asked Shorty for a bottle.
Shorty reached into the glove compartment and, for fifty cents over
list price, the vodka changed hands. Henry didn't like to patronize the
bootleggers, but he did feel the need for a quick one just this once.
After drinking for several hours in his apartment, Henry Talbot took
stock of himself and came to two conclusions:
1. He was satisfied with himself and his life. He had always taken for
granted that he would one day be a famous figure in some scientific
field, true, but this was actually not so important as, upon casual
inspection, it might seem. He liked his work, otherwise he could never
have been so wrapped up in it, and he saw no reason for discontinuing
it or for becoming despondent over his lack of fame. After all, he
reasoned, he had never been famous and yet had been always perfectly
content.