"But think of the results."
Hansen's wistful expression increased. "We're all thinking of the
result of dropping about three million dollars at the theory of a
young, unknown man. It's a wild gamble, Mr. Barden. We're betting our
reputations on ten pages of mathematics and very excellent logic. Can
you think of what our reputations would be if your predictions were
false?"
"But they are not."
Murdoch interrupted. "How do you know?" he said flatly.
"I have--"
"Wait," interrupted Murdoch again. "Please do not define X in terms
of X. It isn't done except in very cheap dictionaries. You see, Mr.
Barden, you are very earnest in your belief--for which we commend you.
However self-determination is not enough to produce a science. Give us
a shred of proof."
"Have you reviewed my mathematics?" demanded Barden.
"Naturally. And we find your mathematics unimpeachable. But an equation
is not a flat statement of fact in spite of what they tell you. It
is not even an instrument until you deduce from the equation certain
postulates."
"But--
"I'll give an example. The simplest form of electronic equation is
Ohm's Law. Resistance equals Voltage divided by Current. Or, simpler:
E equals IR. That has been proven time and again by experiment. Your
equations are logical. Yet some of your terms are as though we were
working with Ohm's Law without ever having heard of resistance as a
physical fact in the conduction of electricity. Your whole network
of equations is sensible, but unless you define the terms in the
present-day terminology, we can only state that your manipulation of
your mathematics is simple symbolic logic. You state that if P implies
notQ, such is so--and then neglect to state what notQ is, and go on to
state what you can do with P. Unless we know your terms, we can't even
state whether you are dividing by real or unreal factors."
"I see that you are unimpressed."
"Not at all. We hoped that you might have had some experimental
evidence. Lacking anything material to support your theory--" Hansen
spread out his hands in a gesture of frustration.
"Then I've been wasting my time--and yours?"
"Not entirely. Will you speak on your paper as an experiment in sheer
semantics?"
Barden considered. Perhaps if this could be presented as such it would
be better than no presentation at all. Let them think him a crackpot.
He'd win in the end. He would give his talk on the basis mentioned and
then if there were any discussion afterwards he might be able to speak
convincingly enough to start a train of thought.
"I'll do it," he said.
"Good," said Hansen. "The ability to think in semantic symbols is
valuable, and every man could use a better grasp of abstract thought.
Your paper will be presented next week, here. We'll put you on the
schedule for one o'clock."
* * * * *
Confidently, Tom Barden faced the sectional group of the Terran
Physical Society and made his talk. He noted the interest present on
every one of the eighty-nine faces. He prayed for a good reception, for
he might be asked to present this paper at the international meeting,
later. He felt that he was getting an excellent reception, for he had
their interest.
He finished his speech and sat down. A buzz filled the room during the
recess before discussion, and Barden saw with considerable interest
that heads were nodding eagerly. Then the chairman rapped with his
gavel.
"There will now be an open discussion," he said.
The buzz stopped.
"Any questions?" asked Chairman Hansen.
A hand went up near the back, and was recognized.
"I am Martin Worthington. I wish to state that the logic is excellent
and the delivery was superb. May I ask if the pursuit of such
impeccable logic is a matter of training, logical instinct, or by sheer
imaginative power, did Mr. Barden momentarily convince himself of the
truth of his premise and build up on that basis?"
Barden smiled. "The latter is true. Also, Mr. Worthington, I am still
convinced of the truth of the basic premise."
The hall rang with laughter.
When it died, Barden continued. "Not only am I convinced of the
validity of this theory, but I am willing to give all I have or ever
hope to have for a chance to prove its worth."
"Then," said Worthington, "we are not so much to be impressed by the
excellence of semantic reasoning as we have been. True sophistry is
brilliant when the reasoner admits that his basic premise is false.
Sophistry is just self-deception when the entire pattern is a firm
conviction of the reasoner."
The crowd changed from amusement to a slight anger. The speaker,
Barden, had not presented a bit of sheer reasoning. He had been talking
on a theme which he firmly believed in!
Another hand went up and was recognized. "I am William Hendricks. May I
ask if the speaker has any proof of the existence of such phenomena?"
"Only the mathematical proof presented here--and a more complete study
at home. These were culled from the larger mass as being more to the
point. It is my belief that the force-fields indicated in equation one
may be set up, and that they will lead to the results shown in equation
three."
"But you have no way of telling?"
"Only by mathematical prediction."
A third hand went up. A slender hand that was instantly recognized as
that of Dr. Edith Ward.
"I wish to clarify a point," she said. "Mr. Barden's logic is
impeccable, but it _is_ based upon one false premise."
Barden looked at the woman carefully. No one could call her beautiful,
but there was a womanly charm about her that was in sharp contrast to
the cold facts she held in her brain. She looked about thirty years
old, which included the mental adjustment necessary to compare her with
a younger woman. That she was the head of the Solar Space Laboratory
was in itself a statement of her ability as a physicist.
And the fact that she condemned his beliefs was as final as closing the
lid and driving in the nails.
Period!
"I believe that my own belief is as firm as Miss Ward's," retorted
Barden.
"You will find that your premise may be valid, but the end-result is
not profitable," she said flatly.
"You've experimented?" scoffed Barden.
"I don't have to," she said. "I know!"
"Perhaps by feminine intuition?" snapped Tom scathingly.
Edith Ward flushed and sat down abruptly, rebuffed and angry. Chairman
Hansen arose and tried to speak, but the wellings and mutterings grew
from a low murmur to a loud roar that changed slowly from random sounds
of anger to a chant of "Throw him out! Throw him out! Throw him out!"
as more and more voices took it up. Hansen banged sharply with his
gavel and finally the angry cries died again into the dull muttering.
"We are not a rabble," said Hansen sharply. "I shall ask Mr. Barden
to leave quietly. We will then continue with our regular business and
forget this unhappy incident."
Barden left amid a sullen silence.
* * * * *
That was that. That door was closed to him, finally and completely.
Barden went home in a blue funk and fretted for several hours. Then
determination arose to show them all, and he consulted his notes again.
Time--and Money!
Doubtless it had been the same cry a thousand years ago, and there was
no doubt that it would be the same stumbling block a million years from
now. Perhaps on a different planet of a distant sun if Terra were no
longer a running concern, but it would always be the cry.
Well, he thought, considering both, he did not know how much time he
had. He knew he had little money. Also, he knew that no matter what he
did he would never know about the time factor nor would he be able to
change it much. Perhaps there might be some way to get money. If he was
to be forced into the slow methods, and he failed, he would know that
he had tried.
He took his mind from the ever-present problem of putting the science
across, and started to inspect the new art from a dispassionate
standpoint. It was his first try at looking at the technology from the
standpoint of a scientific observer. Since the day of the dream, Tom
Barden's one thought had been to initiate this development. Now, for
the time being, Tom Barden went through his adequate storehouse of
alien knowledge to see what other developments he might get out of it.
He grunted aloud: "If they won't let me build a better spacecraft, I'll
build a better mousetrap!"
Then he laughed, for the new art was so complex and so well developed
and so far beyond the present science that there were a horde of little
items that could be put to work. The generation of spiral magnetic
fluxes, for instance, would far outdo the machinist's magnetic chuck.
No plain magnetic attraction this, but a twin-screw of magnetic flux
lines throughout the chuck-plate and the metal work, fastening them
together. There were means of developing a type of superspeed radio
communication along a tight beam that could not be tapped. A simple
method of multi-circuit thyratron operation that had both an ionization
and a deionization time of a fraction of microsecond or even less. A
means of amplifying true square waves without distortion--permitting
the paradox of the voltage assuming all values between zero and
maximum instantaneously during the rise of the wave from zero to
peak. A card-file sorting system capable of maintaining better than
three million items and producing any given item with a distribution
of near-items on either side--all contained in a desk-cabinet and
operating silently within a three second interval. A magneto-physical
means of exhausting vacuum tubes and removing occluded gases from the
tube electrodes simultaneously. The latter could be kept in operation
constantly during the life of the tube, if need arose.
He fastened on the latter. If it would generate the almost-perfect
vacuum in a vacuum tube it would also de-air electron microscopes and
all other kinds of equipment.
It was simple, too. It was not one of the direct results of the alien
science, but it was an item used to develop the science from present
technology. Doing it would not introduce anyone to Barden's technology
any more than a thorough knowledge of small intricate mechanisms
would introduce a mechanician to the field of electronics. But one
cannot delve into basic electronic theory without hitting some of the
principles of moving machinery.
Thomas Barden made his plans. When the plans were made, he bought tools
and parts and went to work. Knowing every factor helped, and not many
days passed before he had a working model of his magnetic vacuum pump.
He knew where to take it, luckily. He had worked for Terran
Manufacturing, Incorporated and because of his connection there he was
not unknown to the chief engineer of Solar Electric. Terran was a small
outfit, and though Barden felt that he owed it some loyalty, he felt
that the mighty Solar Electric could better afford the price he was
prepared to ask. Terran would dig it up--but Solar was prepared at any
time for that amount.