"Can't you undo it?"
"Nope. It's just too tough. I'd go to work on the insides with acid
if I could get inside of it. The outside is possible, but I haven't
enough acid to react with the whole darned box. But I'm going to get
something. Well, I'm going inside and take myself a shower. Wait--I'll
be back."
* * * * *
An hour later, Tom Lionel emerged from the bathroom. Frank, the
houseboy went in with a humorous shake of the head. He'd seen the
embryonic mess and knew what there was to do.
"Now what?" asked Elaine.
"Well, you see, the thing is slightly out of hand," exclaimed Tom. "I
started this thing because my physicist friend got out of line and
shot the entire bankroll on a pile of scientific flapdoodle." He took a
cigarette case from his pocket that glinted and iridesced as he opened
it. "I've been able to use nearly everything," he grinned, "including
the ruling engine," he waved the grating-ruled cigarette case at the
girl. "Marten shelled out about ten thousand bucks for the secret of
the finish on this case. He's ruling jewelry now and it is the largest
thing since the discovery of diamond-faceting. I'm also getting a five
percent royalty on every grating-ruled piece that's made. It ain't hay.
"Anyway, it backfired on me because I presented him with something
that offered him, not frustration, but instead, he proceeded to
make something of it that no sensible engineer could ignore. And,"
he continued ruefully, "it did two more drastic things. One, it
made his continued influence necessary. There are too many things
that he knows to dispense with his type of thinking. Number two, my
success in reducing his discoveries to practice has resulted in the
generation of a good income. That has been the basis of our argument.
He's impractical to the extreme, but as long as the body is fed,
both materially and intellectually, so what? So instead of finding
myself the winner, I'm actually fighting for my own existence." Tom
went bitter. "A fine thing. To be forced to fight for one's existence
because of factors that emanate from his own success."
Elaine put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be bitter," she said
softly. "I ... I'll miss you--"
"Oh, don't worry," he told her in a strained voice. "I don't intend
to give up." He cradled her face between his hands and looked her
straight in the eyes. "If, as, and when, I--though the concept is
purely hypothetical--might possibly lose--mind, I have no intention
of losing since I intend to win unconditionally and maintaining the
present status is intolerable--the other guy will have been in such a
mad battle that he'll be forced into accepting some practical tenets as
a factor. Then he'll be more like me."
"This may hurt," she said seriously, "but you are not as different as
you might think."
"He hates the thought of practicality."
"And yet," said Elaine, "if all were engineers who would take time to
seek out the little-known facts?"
"And," snorted Tom, "if all were physicists, we would still be hanging
from trees, tossing coconuts at one another whilst a few bright
dawn-men were contemplating the possibilities of using fire--but, of
course, doing nothing about it. After all, once the physicist has
considered all the angles, he's through. He doesn't give a howling
hoot whether what he's considered is practical--after all, it _is_
interesting and that's all he cares about."
"But--"
"Since the physicist's thinking is actually based upon past proof--made
by practical engineers--the contemplation of fire would be as far as
they'd get. For there would be no engineer to ever use it to show its
practical possibilities! That's based on my horribly hypothetical world
where all were physicists and none were engineers."
"Who invented the bow and arrow?" asked Elaine.
"Ab, Ug, or Unguh. He, she, or it was an experimenter. Y'see, Elaine,
at one time there were neither engineers nor physicists. Alexander
Graham Bell was not--in our present day sense--a physicist nor was
Morse, or Edison or Lodge. Nor were they engineers. Somewhere since
then the line has been divided. In them days they were basement
geniuses. But now," he said bitterly, "there is one set of people who
think up cockeyed things and another set that figures out what to do
with them."
"Y'know," smiled Elaine, "I think that getting together would be the
finest thing that ever happened to you and the physicist."
Tom backed up three steps. "Look," he snapped, "I've heard a lot. I can
stand for a lot. But that's something that I can't even consider."
"Both of you offer so much to--"
"Yeah," he sneered, "and we're both solid citizens! Hooey."
* * * * *
Tom stalked over to the chessboard and looked down. "Overconfidence is
a dangerous thing," he said with a smile. He moved a bishop halfway
across the board. "There," he said with a satisfied air, "that should
be obscure enough to fool anybody, even Lasker."
"Who's Lasker?" asked the girl.
"One of the chess masters."'
"Oh."
"Now," he said, "I'm going to ask you a favor."
"Yes."