_Matter Transmission_
Using his knowledge of the alien tongue and coupling it to many of the
so-called "harmless" records he had been permitted to toy with, Carroll
found his work much simpler. There was that business of the circlet of
wire mounted on the cylindrical podium in which vibrated a crystal.
He had a whole measure of that science, most of which, he admitted, was
ridiculous, and meaningless to any Terran physicist unless he had the
key to the art. A complete volume on electronic techniques would be
meaningless to any man who knew nothing of electricity.
Most texts are written with considerable elision--electronics texts,
for instance, show many circuits but seldom are they entirely complete.
They omit the driving force--the source of energizing electricity, the
filament supply, and other items which are unnecessary to the trained
man.
Since many such items may be ambiguous it makes no difference whether
the plate voltage is developed by batteries, rectifier-filter supplies,
generators or a vibrator-pack that develops high voltage from a
six-volt battery. It is sensible to omit them and merely label the
"input" terminal with a symbol.
But couple a text with a complete knowledge of the language, especially
a dictionary that is complete in its scientific sense, and you learn
of batteries, voltage, generators and the like. You discover that an
electron tube has this and that and perhaps why. Using a good sensible
knowledge of physics plus ingenuity the science becomes less puzzling.
Similarly James Forrest Carroll was able to reproduce the science of
the aliens.
All of this took time, of course--weeks. Weeks of testing and trying
and fumbling. As Volta might be baffled by a common transformer
where, though the input is shorted together through loops of wire and
the output is similarly shorted, yet there is transfer of energy, so
Carroll was baffled by the strange and bizarre thing that grew in the
cellar of his Wisconsin home.
It was a large circular loop of silver-plated copper tubing. It
was mounted on a cylindrical slug of high-permeability alloy which
was magnetized to a high charge. The crystal was common enough but
its connection made little sense from the Terran point of view.
The Ancients used to use crystals for jewelry and would have been
bewildered at the modern idea of cutting them in slabs to make
standards of frequency.
Finally he surveyed his work with a satisfied smile. He snapped it on
and a shining plane of totally reflecting energy filled the circular
loop of wire.
"It isn't Lewis," he said. "It's James Forrest Carroll Through The
Looking Glass!"
Rhinegallis shook her head. "The proper title is 'Alice Through The
Looking Glass'," she told him.
"You have a rather extensive Terran education," he observed.
"Would any Terran be without an education?" she countered.
"Doubtless far superior to any normal person," he grunted, "thanks to
that mental educating dingus of yours."
"And partly due to hard work," she said. "Give me some credit."
He smiled wanly. Then he snapped the instrument on and off and looked
at the perfect plane with interest.
"Wonder if it might be possible to warp it into a perfect parabola," he
said thoughtfully.
"I wouldn't know," she replied, "but it would make a fine telescope,
wouldn't it?"
"Whole gear weighs about five pounds." He grinned. "The thousand-inch
mirror would be a definite practicality. What we couldn't see with
that!"
"Might as well go," she said humorously. "You're like the man who
discovered motive power and then used it to yell over great distances
with instead of going there."
"So far," he said seriously, "there's little to be gained by this
gimmick. I'm like the first man on earth to own a telephone. I've no
one to talk to."
"But tell me, what did he do?"
Carroll smiled in a superior fashion. "What I'm going to do to try
this out," he said. "I'm going elsewhere with a second model and
establish my own line of communication.
"So far as I know the only other ones are in the hands of your
people--and normal, happy, serious-minded folk seldom call their
enemies on the telephone to pass the time of day. So, Rhine, if you'll
stay here--"
"I've no place to go," she told him. "I'll stay. You'll not be long?"
"I've got to build it first," he said. "I've got the parts here but
it's not assembled."
"But--"
"It's 'tinkertoy' fashion in a suitcase," he said. "I obviously can't
carry a six-foot circle of half-inch copper tubing fastened to a podium
of heavy metal through the streets of Ladysmith without trouble. I'm
leaving tonight, Rhine. You wait for me here."
"I'll wait," she said with a smile.
* * * * *
Doctor Pollard blinked when Miss Farragut announced James Forrest
Carroll.
"By all means," he said, and then sat back to see what Carroll had to
offer.
Carroll came to the point at once. "I have proof," he said.
"You have proof," smiled Pollard, "but you leave too many holes in the
matrix."
"Meaning?" asked Carroll.
"From time to time," replied Pollard, "men have come forward with
the idea that all Sol is being guarded or watched or kept suppressed
by some alien culture. Charles Fort said 'Maybe we're Property!' and
others have had the same idea.
"This alien culture always is superior of mind and body and capable of
furthering any evidence to dispute its being. The discoverer is hunted
down and chased but usually eludes the aliens long enough before he is
caught to tell the world about it.
"Now," continued the doctor, "aside from the fact that all stories must
have some sort of sensible ending your tale misses one vital point that
all such tales seem to.
"That is just the simple fact that these omnipotent, omniscient and
omnipresent beings who have kept the world in ignorance for twenty
thousand years have not the intelligence to slay the single discoverer!"
Carroll smiled. "I was not slain because I was useful to them. I've
spent weeks with them."
Carroll spent the next hour telling Dr. Pollard of his experiences
among the aliens. He omitted only the truth about Rhinegallis.
Pollard's comment in his own shorthand was, "Perfect
self-justification."
"Now," said Carroll. "May I show you something that I've stolen from
them?"
"Of course."
Carroll opened his suitcase and set the metal podium on the floor. He
unrolled the length of silver-plated copper tubing and shaped it into a
circle. He fastened the terminals to the podium with thumbscrews. Then
he snapped the switch and the shimmering plane appeared.
"Wonderful," said Pollard hollowly. "But what is it?"
Carroll smiled. "You are a hard man to convince," he said. "But now
that I have shown you this, I shall show you one of them!"
Carroll stepped into the shimmering plane and disappeared.
* * * * *
Pollard gave a cry of fright and raced around to the other side of the
plane but Carroll had gone. Then he shrank from the thing; it was as
though the shimmering plane of perfect mirror was beckoning to him. And
for one of the few times in his life, Dr. Pollard knew and recognized a
psychopathic fear of the Unknown.
Carroll, however, knew the facts. He stepped into the basement of his
home with the same motion that had carried him over the podium into the
mirror in Pollard's office.
"Now," he told Rhinegallis, "I'm taking Dr. Pollard a live specimen!"
He grabbed Rhinegallis by the wrist and dragged her through the mirror
into Pollard's office again.
[Illustration: Carroll grabbed Rhinegallis by the wrist and dragged her
through the mirror into Pollard's office.]
"Here," he said, "is Rhinegallis, one of the inimical aliens."
Pollard was dumbfounded.
Carroll hurled the girl at Pollard. "I want as complete a medical
examination as you can give," he said. "Obviously if she and her race
evolved on some distant stellar system, she can not be more than
humanoid. Follow?"
Pollard nodded. He faced the girl uncertainly and said, "Do you mind?"
Rhinegallis blazed.
"Of course I mind," she snapped, eyes flashing.
Carroll seated himself indolently on Pollard's desk. "If you are really
alien," he observed ironically, "you will most heartily object!"
"I'm Terran," she insisted.
"Then why cavil at proving it?" he urged.
"I don't have to!"
"I'm afraid you do," he said. "Fact of the matter is I'm still holding
a rather high position in the Lawson Laboratory. I can--and will--order
Dr. Pollard to do it!"
Rhinegallis faced the doctor. "I'll not have it."
Carroll spread his hands out in a self-satisfied gesture. "Q.E.D.," he
said. "Aliens will object. True Terrans have nothing to fear."
Rhinegallis turned upon him angrily. "How about you?" she snapped. "Are
you willing to have yourself examined?"
"Dr. Pollard knows me," he said simply. "There is no reason for me to
go through with this."
"I have friends."
"Aliens!" He turned to Pollard. "You have always disbelieved me," he
said. "Had I brought you here by any other means Pollard would have
believed that there was nothing to my tale and would have given you at
the most a very superficial examination.
"However, after bringing you through the teleport, he is amazed enough
to wonder. Pollard, I charge you. Give her as complete an examination
as is within your ability and power!"
Pollard turned to Rhinegallis and asked her name.
"I am Rita Galloway," she said. "And I'm Terran!"
"Normally," he said with a half-smile, "no one is expected to go
through such an outrageous thing. But do you really mind?"
Rhinegallis paused. "Not really; I have nothing to hide. But like
all people I resent any invasion of my privacy. The Constitution
stipulates that such shall not be done except with just cause. Not that
an innocent man has anything to fear. It is just protection for the
integrity of the individual. However, if you insist."
"Thank you," said Pollard. "Into this office, please."
Carroll followed.
"Not you," snapped Pollard.
"I'm watching," Carroll insisted.
"Look," said Pollard testily, "you may give orders to have things done
that I do not approve of but you have no right to tell me how to run
my life. We'll have none of it!"
"But--"
"Want it done?" demanded Pollard.
"I--"
"Look, Carroll, you can't fire me. You may still hold a responsible
position but it is an honorary status. Now, if you want me to go ahead,
just sit quietly and wait!"
"I'll wait," said Carroll.
* * * * *
Three hours later, Pollard emerged from the inner office with several
sheets of paper. "She is of Anglo-Russian origin and shows the racial
characteristics of that mixture.
"Her blood type is Type Three, Rh Negative, Sub-classification
three-GH. Temperature, blood-pressure, and heart normal save for a
slight murmur. Saliva test perfection itself. Blood count slightly
low--normal enough and not near anemia.
"She is, physically, biologically, and emotionally, a specimen of
excellent health, female, age twenty four years. Appendix removed
five years-odd ago. Unmarried. Spent some time in the tropics but is
naturally light complected."
Pollard shuffled the papers as Rhinegallis entered the room.
"In the interim," he continued, "I've had her checked on. The Bureau of
Identification confirms her fingerprints and physical characteristics,
Social Security Number and blood type. Photo checks despite several
years interim.
"Born in Indiana, raised in Chicago on Drexel Avenue. Schooled
primarily in Chicago, left college after three years. Father and mother
deceased. Now," he said angrily, "is there anything more you need?"
Carroll blinked. "I should have guessed," he replied very slowly.
"Guessed? Guessed what?"
Carroll nodded slowly. "Doctor, forgetting the present situation, what
is your opinion on the evolution of an extra-solar race?"
"I'll try to forget the present idea," replied the doctor, "and tell
you that so far as I can judge, it would be utterly impossible for
any race not our own to have more than a very few superficial items
of resemblance to the human. More than likely they would evolve in an
entirely different shape, though very necessarily functional."
Carroll nodded. "How about brain surgery?"
"What about it?"
Carroll shunned the doctor at that point. He faced Rhinegallis with a
bitter smile. "So you have Terran characteristics. And your offer of
affection might have been honest--despite the alien brain inside your
skull!"
Rhinegallis gasped. "You accuse me of--"
"Well, there must be some logic in it!"