XV

Inside, the Humberford Foundation was a gloomy Edwardian mansion to

which had been sketchily grafted a pleasantly disorganized scientific

enterprise. Glassed shelves of leatherbound books that hadn't been

opened for decades were elbowed by trim microfilm files. Blackened

portraits of John Junius Humberford and his ancestors looked down on

machines for shuffling the eternal Rhine cards and on fluorescent

screens-in-depth that blended a dozen recordings of a brain wave made

from different angles into the shadowy semblance of a human thought.

Stately drawing rooms that set one thinking of bustles and teacups

instead held solemn faced, scantily clad girls with electrodes attached

to twenty parts of their bodies. Laboratory technicians in loose smocks

caught their heels in stair carpets a hundred years old.

But today there was an excitement that pushed the Edwardian half of

the place far into the background and brightened the very grime on

the walls. Chancellor Frobisher and his little train of visitors were

not even noticed. Girls triumphantly calling Rhine cards stared past

them unseeingly. Clairvoyants sketching objects being imagined by

someone else three floors away didn't look up from their blackboards.

A technician darted out with a large syringe and took air samples

under their very noses without seeming to be aware of their presence.

Correlating engines hummed and spat cards.

Phil was so busy peering about for his green cat that he heard little

of what Frobisher was telling them.

Occasional high-pitched explanatory phrases floated back to Phil: "...

her 117,318th run through the cards ... telepathic communion with

lower animals ... perhaps some day share the thoughts of an amoeba....

No, I really don't know where Dr. Garnett is, I'm busy with important

visitors, Miss Ames ... telekinesis will make handies obsolete...."

Plodding behind da Silva up the stairs to the top floor, Phil started

to listen to Frobisher consecutively. The Chancellor of Philosophy

was saying, "Now in the room I'm about to show you, an experiment in

_complete_ telepathy is underway. When telepathy is perfected, it will

be possible for two individuals to lay their minds side by side and

compare all their thoughts and feelings in the raw, as it were."

"Is good!" da Silva interjected.

Frobisher frowned at the interruption before remembering it was a

journalist talking. He went on smilingly, "In this case, however, we

have only a preliminary stage: two individuals, by means of prolonged

speech, writing, sketching, musical expression and so forth, are

attempting to share their inmost thoughts to such an extent that they

will tend to become telepathic, as seems to be the case with some

husbands and wives." As they came to the top of the stairs, Frobisher

continued a bit breathlessly, "Incidentally, the young man in this

experiment is one of our most consistent espers, while the young lady

is a handie bit player who graciously devotes her leisure time to

science."

He paused with his hand on an ancient brass doorknob.

"Let's not disturb them, Hugo," Opperly suggested a bit faintly,

leaning against the wall though he showed no other effects of the

climb. "Sounds like rather an intimate experiment."

Frobisher shook his head. "As I say," he pronounced, "these two

researchists are seeking to lay their minds side by side."

He opened the door, looked in, gasped, and hastily slammed it--though

not before da Silva, peering over his shoulder, had emitted an

appreciative and rather whinnying chortle.

"As I say, their _minds_," Frobisher repeated, walking away from the

door a bit unevenly. "Perhaps you're right, Dr. Opperly, we'd best

not disturb them. Research is at times a strenuous affair." He looked

apprehensively at the purported representative of _La Prensa_. "I

trust, Señor da Silva--"

"Is very good!" da Silva assured him enthusiastically.

Frobisher looked at him blankly, shook himself a bit and said, briskly,

"It now remains, gentlemen, to give you a glimpse of our crowning

project--the one on the roof. If you'll just precede me up this

circular staircase...."

"I think I'll stay here, Hugo," Opperly told him. "Touring research can

be strenuous too."

"But I rather imagine Dr. Garnett must be on the roof."

"Then bring him down."

As Phil trudged up the musty cylinder lit by tiny bull's-eye windows,

his feet clanking on worn metal treads, it occurred to him that Lucky

certainly seemed to have been having a field day here, bringing people

together in understanding and love and what not. In fact, it made him

rather jealous the way Lucky was strewing his favors around.

From behind Chancellor Frobisher's fussy voice filtered up. "I should

preface this ascent by saying that one of J. J. Humberford's chief

motives in establishing the Foundation was the conviction that mankind

will soon destroy itself unless some superior power intervenes. So we

feel bound to apply what little knowledge of esping we have gained

to seeking such intervention. Even if there is only one chance in a

million of contacting a superior power somewhere in the universe, the

stakes are so great that we must not overlook the chance. Incidentally,

gentlemen, please watch out for the next to the last step. There isn't

any."

Phil, who was just putting his foot on it, caught himself, took a

bigger step, and the next moment was out on the roof. The sodium mirror

that orbited around earth was pouring sunlight down, though hardly

enough to explain the dark glasses Frobisher handed him and da Silva.

Phil briefly studied the verdigris underside of the saucer topping

most of the roof. He noted the flimsy looking beams supporting it

and frowningly inspected the tiny penthouse under its center. Then

Frobisher was urging him and da Silva up a ladder that led to a small

platform next to the rim of the saucer.

Reaching the platform, Phil instantly realized the need for the dark

glasses. The interior of the saucer was polished to such a degree that

even the sodium-reflected sunlight flashed from it with a pale brown

blindingness. He clamped his eyes shut and quickly put on the black

specs.

"As you are aware," Frobisher was saying, "the exact nature of thought

waves is unknown. It may be that they move instantaneously, or at least

at speeds far greater than that of light. We have yet to get a figure

on them, although we have carefully timed thought-casts between here

and Montevideo--but the human or physiological factor confounds us.

They may not be waves at all. On the other hand it is possible that

they are reflected and refracted like ordinary light."

"Is right," interjected da Silva, a vague blur beside Phil, who hadn't

yet got over the first blinding glimpse of the saucer's interior.

"You believe so?" Frobisher questioned sharply.

_La Prensa_'s faun-like representative shrugged his muscular shoulders.

"Just guessing," he said.

"At any rate," Frobisher continued, "we are working on that latter

supposition here. This copper structure is a parabolic mirror. Thought

waves originating at its focus are concentrated into a beam which is

directed upward into the sky toward any stellar planetary systems which

may happen to lie above."

"Amazing," da Silva grunted. "Explains everything."

"What do you mean?" Frobisher asked sharply.

"Just humble before wonders of science," da Silva told him.

Frobisher nodded. "You're right," he said. "Who knows but what

the message now being beamed, with its appeal for help from a

war-threatened and deluded humanity, may some day or century be

received by a truly mature and benign race, which will swiftly come to

our aid? By the by, Mr. Gish, watch that railing. It's broken."

Phil jerked his hand away from the rusted pipe. "Yes," he said to

Frobisher, "but how do these thought waves originate at the focus?"

"Just look," Frobisher told him. Phil squintingly studied the gleaming

saucer through his dark glasses and it became less of a jumble of

highlights. Projecting from a hole in the center of the bowl was a

brownish-red blob wearing goggles that looked as if they were made of a

darker glass than his own specs. The blob's lips moved and Phil heard a

hauntingly familiar voice saying, of all things, "S-O-S, earth. S-O-S,

earth."

"Our star esper," Frobisher chortled, "if you'll pardon a pun of which

we're rather fond. To be sure, it's thought waves, not sound waves,

he's originating, but it helps him esp if he says the message at the

same time he thinks of it. He's a bit of an eccentric--a religious

scholar--but that's the case with most of our best people."

At that moment Phil's vision, buffered by the dark glasses, became

quite clear and he saw that the sweating head at the focus of the

parabolic mirror was that of Sacheverell Akeley. At the same moment

Sacheverell saw Phil and his sun-burned top disappeared from the saucer

as swiftly as a hand puppet jerked below stage.

"He shouldn't do that," Frobisher said sharply. "There's at least

twenty minutes of his duty remaining. Well, I presume you've seen all

you'll need for your articles, gentlemen, so we'd best go down."

As Phil's foot touched the roof, Sacheverell Akeley darted up to him,

sweat pouring off his ruddy-bronze forehead.

"What are you doing here?" Phil asked sharply. "How did you get away

from them--Romadka's friends, I mean."

"They raced off a couple of hours after Romadka left," Sacheverell

answered quickly. "Got a phone call. Incidentally, Romadka abducted

three of our cats. As for me, I've worked here for ages. The important

point is," he continued in an intense whisper, "that _he's_ here,

isn't he? I mean the Green One. I've never esped like this before, even

at stars."

But before Phil could answer, Frobisher and da Silva glanced at them

inquisitively. Phil and Sacheverell followed them down the metal

staircase.

Reaching the top floor they found Opperly deep in conversation with a

man who looked at least half out of this world. He was fat and had a

beard, but his dull eyes seemed to be seeing twice as much as he was

looking at. Sacheverell tugged at Phil's sleeve guardedly. "Garnett's

frightfully espy," he whispered, his lips next to Phil's ear.

"But Winnie, how do you explain it?" Opperly was saying. "Why all this

success with esping, in practically all your projects, all of a sudden?"

Garnett frowned. "Well, there is one unusual circumstance. Our lab

technicians claim to have found hormones, or some sort of specialized

protein molecules floating around in the air."

"What hormones?" Opperly asked quickly.

"Well," Garnett said, "they have had some difficulty identifying

them." He hesitated. "The hormones seem to show a tremendous

variability--almost chameleon-like."

Opperly smiled and threw Phil a twinkling gaze.

"Winnie, do you by any chance know," Opperly said, "whether an odd

animal of some sort appeared at the Foundation early this morning?"

Phil felt Sacheverell's hand tighten on his biceps.

Dr. Garnett looked around puzzledly. Then his eyebrows shot up. "Yes,"

he said, "Ginny Ames found a green cat, a fashion mutant, I suppose,

wailing at the door early this morning. We don't have much food here,

but she tried it on some elderberry preserves and apparently it liked

it. I believe the creature's still around."

"Winnie, don't you get any bulletins from Security?" Opperly asked

incredulously. "Or from the FBL?"

Garnett shook his big head. "Not for the past ten years. Esp's so

unpopular that even the government's forgot us."

"I see," Opperly said, his eyes glittering with interest. "In that

case you haven't read anything about a mutant creature described as a

green cat, that's believed to have super-human parapsychological powers

and to have caused officials to go over to Russia and do all sorts

of other things described as crazy? The public hasn't been told, but

all the higher echelons--scientists, doctors, psychiatrists--have been

getting bulletins on the subject, demanding that they report anything

they know or have heard about a green cat. Even I've been told a

little."

"Can you beat it," Garnett said disgustedly, "something involving esp

and they consult everyone but us." Then he turned to Opperly like a man

waking up. "Do you mean to suggest that this creature is responsible

for the esp results we've been getting?"