"I don't want to. For a person his age, he's quite inoffensive."
"Oh, well, you didn't want a hundred million dollars anyway, did you?
I'll try to rush this for you, that may help."
Arch went out again, some of the elation taken from him. But what the
hell, he reflected. If he could collect on only one percent of all
the capacitite which was going to be manufactured, he'd still have
an unreasonable amount of money. And he wanted to publish as soon as
possible in all events: he had the normal human desire for prestige.
He got a hamburger and coffee at a diner and went home. Nothing
happened for a month except an interview in the local paper. Bob
finished his hot rod and drove it all over town. The boy was a little
disappointed at the quietness of the machine, but the interest it
attracted was compensation. He began to build another: twenty-five
dollars for an old chassis, another twenty-five or so for materials,
tack on a hundred for labor and profits--the clunk might not look like
much, but it would run for a year without fuel worries and would never
need much repair or replacement. He also discovered, more or less
clandestinely, that such a car would go up to 200 miles an hour on the
straightaway. After selling it, he realized he could command a much
bigger price, and set happily to work on another.
* * * * *
The physics journal to which Arch sent his manuscript was interested
enough to rush printing. Between the time he submitted it and the
time it came out some five weeks later, he found himself in lively
correspondence with the editor.
"College will soon be letting out all over the country," said
Elizabeth. "Stand by to repel boarders!"
"Mmmm ... yes, I suppose so." Arch added up the cost of entertaining
a rush of colleagues, but his worry was only a flicker across a
somewhat bashful glow of pride. After all--he had done a big thing. His
polarization theory cut a deep swath into what mystery remained about
the atom. There might even be a Nobel Prize in it.
It was on the day of publication that his phone rang. He looked up from
his stamps, swore, and lifted it. "Hello?"
"Dr. Arch?" The voice was smooth and cultivated, just a trace of
upper-class New York accent. "How do you do, sir. My name is Gilmer,
Linton Gilmer, and I represent several important corporations in
the electricity field." He named them, and Arch barely suppressed a
whistle. "Dr. Bowyer of the _Journal_ staff mentioned your work to one
of his friends in an industrial research lab. He was quite excited,
and you can understand that we are too. I believe I have some good news
for you, if I may come to see you."
"Eh--oh. Oh, sure!" Visions whirled across Arch's eyes. Money! It
represented a hi-fi set, a three-penny black, an automatic dishwasher,
a reliable car, a new oscilloscope, a son and heir. "Come on up, b-by
all means--Yes, right away if you like--Okay, I--I'll be seeing you--"
He set the receiver down with a shaking hand and bawled: "Betty!
Company coming!"
"Oh, damn!" said his wife, sticking a grease-smudged face in the door.
She had been tinkering with the lab oven. "And the house in such a
mess! So am I, for that matter. Hold the fort when he comes, darling."
She still didn't know who "he" was, but whirled off in a cloud of
profanity.
Arch thought about putting on a decent suit and decided to hell with
it. Let them come to him and accept him as he was; he had the whip
hand, for once in his life. He contented himself with setting out beer
and clearing the littered coffee table.
Linton Gilmer was a big man, with a smooth well-massaged face, wavy
gray hair, and large soft hands. His presence seemed to fill the room,
hardly leaving space for anyone else.
"Very pleased to meet you, Dr. Arch ... brilliant achievement.... We
borrowed proof sheets from the _Journal_ and made tests for ourselves,
of course. I'm sure you don't mind. Thank you." He seemed just a
trifle shocked at being offered beer rather than Johnny Walker Black
at four o'clock in the afternoon, but accepted gracefully. Arch felt
excessively gauche.
"What did you want to s-see me about?" asked the physicist.
"Oh, well, sir, let's get acquainted first," said Gilmer heartily. "No
rush. No hurry. I envy you scientific fellows. The unending quest,
thrill of discovery, yes, science was my first love, but I'm afraid I
sort of got steered off into the business administration end. I know
you scientists don't think much of us poor fellows behind the desks,
you should hear how our boys gripe when we set the appropriations for
their projects, but somebody has to do that, ha." Gilmer made a bridge
of plump fingers. "I do think, though, Dr. Arch, that this hostility is
coming to an end. We're both part of the team, you know; scientist and
businessman both work inside our free enterprise system to serve the
American public. And more and more scientists are coming to recognize
this."
Arch shifted uneasily in his chair. He couldn't think of any response.
But it was simple to converse with Gilmer: you just sat back, let him
flow, and mumbled in the pauses.
Some data began to emerge: "--we didn't want to trouble you with a
dozen visitors, so it was agreed that I would represent the combine to,
ah, sound you out, if I may so phrase it."
Arch felt the stir of resentment which patronizing affability always
evoked in him. He tried to be courteous: "Excuse me, but isn't that
sort of thing against the anti-trust laws?"
"Oh, no!" Gilmer laughed. "Quite the opposite, I assure you. If one
company tried to corner this product, or if all of them went together
to drive the price up, that would be illegal, of course. But we all
believe in healthy competition, and only want information at the
moment. Negotiations can come later."
"Okay," said Arch. "I suppose you know I've already applied for a
patent."
"Oh, yes, of course. Very shrewd of you. I like to deal with a good
businessman. I think you're more broadminded than some of your
colleagues, and can better understand the idea of teamwork between
business and science." Gilmer looked out the French doors to the
building in the rear. "Is that your laboratory? I admire a man who can
struggle against odds. You have faith, and deserve to be rewarded for
it. How would you like to work with some real money behind you?"