They all jammed against his back, trying to see the horizon, waiting.
Avery dropped the scrap of paper and covered his eyes.
"What is there to see?" Neill whispered.
"I thought--there was a flash...." MacPherson's voice trailed off, and
he rubbed his eyes.
"But I didn't see anything," said Neill. "There's nothing to see."
* * * * *
A minute went by. The desert remained calm, the blue sky was unmarked
by even a cloud, the air was still.
A second minute went by.
Neill drew out his watch, looked wonderingly at the steady march of
the second hand. Then he turned and stumbled into the lavatory. They
could hear his dry heaves.
Rothman's eyes wavered from MacPherson to Avery, and back to
MacPherson, and he sighed.
"Looks as if I was wrong, gentlemen," he said. "Maybe I am crazy, after
all. I wonder if that integration constant could have been wrong." He
reached down to the floor to pick up the fallen slide-rule, sat down
and drew a pad of paper toward him.
MacPherson leaned against the window, too weak to move. He saw Avery
take his hands away from his eyes. He could hear the chattering of
Avery's teeth, could hear them click as he clamped them together,
trying to control his lips. It seemed a long time before Avery managed
to speak.
"_You!_" cried Avery. He lunged forward, grabbed Rothman by the
shoulder and jerked him to his feet. "This--will teach you--not to
make--mistakes--"
He smashed his fist into Rothman's face.
Still MacPherson could not move, could not even shout. He could only
listen to Avery.
"And this will teach you--not to set up matrices--that don't
multiply--that burn up--the world--"
Again Avery struck and knocked Rothman to the floor.
Breaking through his paralysis, MacPherson clutched Avery by the
shoulder, but Avery kicked at the man on the floor, again and again.
"Avery!" shouted MacPherson. "Snap out of it, man! It's all over! The
test is finished. We're still here. Rothman was wrong, just as we
always knew he was!"
But Avery was on his knees, pounding Rothman with both fists, sobbing
out meaningless words, oblivious to the shouts outside and to
MacPherson's tugging.
The door burst open and Joe rushed in, followed by two other attendants.
"What goes on?" After a glance at Avery's contorted face, Joe grabbed
for his legs. "Send for the doc, boys. We're going to need help."
* * * * *
One of the men ran down the corridor while Joe and the others succeeded
in pulling Avery away from Rothman, who struggled to his feet. A doctor
came in with a loaded hypodermic. He gave Avery an injection in the arm.
"Go easy there," said MacPherson. "He'll be all right in a few minutes.
He's had a shock, that's all."
"Shock," Avery mumbled.
MacPherson gripped Avery's arm. "Try to relax, man. It's finished. We
never believed in it, of course. But I'll admit it's a relief, even to
me, to be _sure_ there was no danger of a chain reaction at all."
Suddenly he felt cold.
There was no understanding in Avery's eyes. He slumped to the floor.
"Do you think he'll be all right when he comes out from under the
drug?" asked MacPherson.
"I can't say," said the doctor. "I only saw him a few minutes, when
you came here this morning. I thought at the time he was pretty
disturbed. Much more than Rothman here. Next week, I think, we're going
to send Rothman home."
Rothman wiped the blood off his chin and grinned weakly. "You don't
mean that, Doc. I used the wrong integration constant in a little
calculation. I must be crazy."