"The wounded lion," whispered Mr. Eammer dramatically, tears of
self-pity coming to his eyes. "Surrounded by jackals and laughing
hyenas. I am dying of my wounds." He uttered a wail. "Everybody's got
a new filming system but me." He drew a deep breath. "Who the hell are
you?" he demanded.
"He's...." began Mary.
"Wait a minute," he said. He grabbed a phone from the six on his desk.
"Hey. Publicity.... Hey, Mike. I want rumors spread about Largoscope.
Top doctors say it'll ruin the eyes, make you stone blind." He paused,
his face purpling. "Okay, if you can't do it, then get another job.
You're fired."
He slammed the phone down. "No cooperation from anybody," he said
heavily. "Surrounded by incompetents." He glared at me. "Who the hell
are you?"
"I'm ..." I began.
* * * * *
At this moment, the door opened and in came a man with a sheaf of
papers and a film of sweat on his forehead. "I hate to interrupt, Mr.
Eammer," he said doggedly, "but I got your note on the Lolita Vaughn
contract we drew up. I knew there must be some mistake, so...."
"Mistake, what kind of mistake?" snapped Mr. Eammer. "I want you to
tear the contract up. I said we aren't going to sign after all. I got a
bigger name for the picture than her."
The man winced. "Well," he said. "I ... I was just wondering. I mean,
after all, we talked her into turning down that fat part in the
new Broadway show that opened last night. It's a smash hit, I read
today...."
"Tough," shouted Mr. Eammer. "My heart bleeds. Did I know when I made
that promise that I could get a big star at such a cheap price? I acted
hastily, I made a mistake, so I corrected that mistake." He looked
stern. "Would it be fair to the stockholders if I took Lolita under
these conditions?"
"But _you_ own all the stock!"
"That's what I said, you fool!" roared Mr. Eammer. "Get out of here."
As the man fled, I stared at Mr. Eammer in horror and disgust. Never
would I trust a man like this, was my thought.
He glared at me. "Who the hell are you?" he snarled. "I keep asking you
and you stand there like a dummy."
"He's the scientist I told you about," said Mary. "He's a genius. He
has a new invention that will make Largoscope obsolete."
"This?" said the producer with incredulity. "This beanpole is a
scientist? I don't believe it." He stared morosely at me, shaking his
head. "He looks like an elevator operator who can't figure out what
button to push."
"I beg your pardon!" I said with indignation. "I am a graduate of
M.I.T. I graduated _summa cum laude_."
"Anybody can pick up a few words of French," he sneered. "If you're
such a genius, how much money have you got, hah?" As I looked at him
numbly, my jaw hanging open, he tapped his chest with a sausagelike
forefinger. "Now _I_ am a genius, see? I'm the guy who hires _you_.
Now that we got that straight, what's this nonsense about you being
smart enough to figure out a new invention that will make Largoscope
obsolete?"
The weary cynicism in his gross face enraged me. If ever I had an
immediate yearning to crush a man, to make him say 'uncle,' to have him
beg and yearn, it was at that moment and toward this insufferable moron.
* * * * *
Within half an hour, we had driven back to my small laboratory. He
peered suspiciously at the involved maze of wiring and electronic
equipment. I pointed to the small un-roofed cabinet on my long
work-table. It was two feet deep and the four walls, which were three
feet long, were studded with small tubes I'd rather not describe, since
I've developed them myself and they produce a new kind of ray.
"That's my camera," I said.
"It looks more like a diathermy machine or a sweatbox for reducing," he
said skeptically. "How's it operate?"
I set a few dials and went to find Susie, my white cat. "Here pussy,
pussy," I said tenderly.
"The man's gone nuts," said Mr. Eammer in disgust.
"Take it easy," I snapped. "That's how I made my strange discovery. I
was doing a test on the effect of a new kind of radiation on fabrics.
And Susie, my cat, walked over the equipment. First she stepped on a
dial, turning it accidentally to full power, then she wandered into
the box."
"So what?"
"Watch and see," I said.
I got Susie and she complacently allowed herself to be put into the
box. I placed Mary at the dials with instructions and took Mr. Eammer
to the next room and pointed to a huge circle chalked on the floor. The
movie magnate waited impatiently.
"Mary," I shouted. "Okay. Turn dial number one to full force."
We heard a click.
Then Mr. Eammer yelped and cowered behind me. Because in front of us,
within the chalked circle, appeared a giant eight-foot-tall cat, an
enormous duplicate of Susie. Susie was licking her paw with a tongue
that was nearly two feet long.
"Don't be afraid," I said proudly. "It's just an image. Look." I
stepped forward and ran my hand through the air where the giant figure
of Susie ignored me. My hand disappeared into the image, and I felt the
usual puzzling tingle, as if I were getting a shock. And Susie, from
the next room, uttered a faint meow and stopped licking her paw as if
she, too, felt something.
"But ... but there's no _screen_," Eammer said. "And ... and it looks
_real_. It's got three dimensions like an actual body." He cautiously
approached, his hands shaking with excitement. He tip-toed around
behind the cat image. He choked, "It's like a real, living cat all
around."
"You haven't seen anything yet," I said happily. "Watch this. Mary," I
yelled again. "Turn dial number two very slowly."
* * * * *
As we stared, the image of the three-dimensional Susie shrank from
eight feet all the way down to a three-dimensional miniature cat the
size of a thimble.
Mr. Eammer looked as if he might faint.
"Good-by, Largoscope," I said grimly. "This will make all 3-D and large
screen systems obsolete. It will revolutionize television, too. People
will sit home and see actual _figures_, three-dimensional figures of
real people. There will be no screens at all. The effects of depth and
solidity, as you see, are perfect...."
Suddenly Susie in the next room gave a yelping meow and Mary gasped. We
jumped, then ran inside. Mary was wringing her hand. There was a little
smoke in the room.
"My hand hit a wire," said Mary, embarrassed. "I guess I caused a short
circuit or something. I'm sorry. All this smoke." She put her hands to
her eyes, rubbing.
"Susie all right?" I said.
"I guess so," she said. "She moved so fast I could hardly see...."
"My dear fellow." Mr. Eammer was most cordial. He put his arm around
my shoulders. He was beaming at me. He was offering me a fat cigar.
"What a wonderful invention. You are indeed a genius and I offer you my
humblest apologies."
"I accept them," I said, pushing him away with distaste. "You may leave
now, Mr. Eammer."
"Leave? Not until we've signed a contract, my friend. I want that
invention."
"Mr. Eammer, that invention isn't perfected yet. I don't even know how
it works. The principles are beyond me. It is something new in the
world of physics and optics, and...."
"That's all right," he cried. "I'll give you six months. A year. More.
But I want it...."
"No. I'm afraid I don't trust you," I said.
Far from being offended, he was delighted. He laughed as if I'd said
something witty. "Of course you don't," he said. "You don't trust me
and you don't like me. But just listen to my offer."
* * * * *
Right then and there Mr. Eammer made an offer that had my head
swimming. He would, first of all, deposit in an account in my name the
sum of one million dollars--free of taxes. Second, he would include
in the contract a stipulation that I'd get fifty per cent of all
royalties. Third--and _very_ important to me--in the event that the
patent he would apply for in my name was refused, or if it was broken
by further research, I could keep the million dollars.
"And last," said Mr. Eammer, his nostrils flaring as he closed in for
the kill, "I'll make your girl friend, Mary, a big movie star."
Mary's eyes widened. She clasped her hands before her, nervously. "Me?"
she whispered. "B-but I can't act."
"What's that got to do with it?" Mr. Eammer asked impatiently. "You
just got to hold still when the male lead grabs you. Leave it all to
him, he knows what to do."
"No," I cried, appalled. "I don't want anybody else kissing Mary."
"Neither do I," said Mary, blushing.
"You're absolutely right." Mr. Eammer uttered a deep sigh. "Such deep
love, such clean emotion, it cuts my heart out, honestly. Okay, we'll
give the script a scrubbing. Nobody'll put a finger on her."
"I don't think I'm interested," said Mary regretfully.
Mr. Eammer was staggered. He recovered immediately and said hastily,
"Smart girl. What intelligence. It's no life for you."
"But, Mary," I said, kind of liking the idea of my Mary on the screen;
of being sole owner of her sweetness with millions of people knowing
nobody could kiss this girl but myself. "It's such a rare opportunity.
Every girl wants to be a movie star. Do it!"
"Sure," cried Mr. Eammer. "Don't be a dope. How many girls get a chance
like this?"
Mary whispered, her eyes shining, "Well, all right, dear, if you
insist."
"You have a deal, Mr. Eammer," I said quickly.
Mary typed the contract on my portable as dictated by Mr. Eammer.
"Put in a clause," I said cautiously, remembering his ethics, "that the
contract is effective only when the million is deposited in my account."
Mr. Eammer frowned. "Put in a clause for me, too," he said. "He
can't draw on the million without a signed receipt from me saying
he's delivered all his blueprints and technical notebooks on the
invention--and a full-size camera model, big enough to hold people."
"I agree," I said. "I'll have it built and delivered immediately."
I shook Mr. Eammer's clammy hand and he departed with Mary to get the
million dollars out of his secret safe-deposit boxes.
* * * * *
I stared dreamily after them, mentally spending that money on all the
wonderful things I'd always wanted. A scintillometer. A centrifuge.
Maybe I could even build my own private cyclotron. And I could
visualize Mary cooking dinner in a little white cottage with a picket
fence.
Within the week, I had delivered the full-size camera to Mr. Eammer's
studio. As he left me, whimpering with joy and carefully locking the
iron doors of the room he'd set aside for my equipment, I stared at the
signed receipt in my hand. A million dollars. I was rich.
At this moment, Mary appeared at the studio gate and ran toward me, her
face deathly pale.
"What's the matter?" I cried.
"Remember how we couldn't find Susie all week?" she gasped. "Well, I
just found her."
Mary held out her fist, opened her fingers and I recoiled in
astonishment. In her palm was Susie, my cat. But a Susie that was one
inch long ... the smallest, tiniest cat I'd ever seen. She was alive
and seemed healthy as she licked her white fur and uttered a meow I
barely could hear.
My throat was so dry I could hardly get the words out. "Good Lord.
The invention. Something went wrong. It not only sends the _image_ in
three dimensions without a screen to receive it; it also transmits
the _actual body itself_ through space. _I've created a matter
transmitter._"
"But ... but why is Susie so small?" wailed Mary.
"Apparently it transmits whatever size the image is set at. Remember
we had reduced the image of Susie and at that time you short-circuited
the wires? That short circuit is what did it. If Susie's image had been
large at that moment, we would have had an eight-foot-tall cat on our
hands...."
I paused appalled, my eyes clinging to the incredible one-inch cat now
peering over the edge of Mary's hand at the ground below. It shrank
back fearfully.
"My God," I whispered. I turned and, with Mary close behind me, made a
beeline for Mr. Eammer.
* * * * *
We finally found him and got him alone. Mary opened her palm and,
without a word, showed him Susie. Mr. Eammer's eyes bulged and his
jowls turned ashen. Susie scratched her ear with her miniature rear
left foot and I idly wondered just how small Susie's fleas were.
"I warned you," I said grimly, "that I didn't know how this thing
worked or the principles behind it. This is what's liable to happen
whenever there is a short circuit in the camera box. I don't know _why_
it happens, but it's too dangerous to use. If you want to call off our
deal...."
"No, no, no," said Mr. Eammer rapidly. A cunning look came over his
face. "I'm sure you can work the bugs out of it, can't you? I'm sure
you're anxious to do more research on it?"
"Indeed, I am," I said warmly. "You are a man with the true scientific
spirit."
"Go right to work," he said urgently, his fascinated eyes never leaving
Susie. "Work night and day, day and night. I'll never leave your side.
We must learn how this gadget works."
That's what we did. Making Susie comfortable in a matchbox, we set
to work in the dead of night when no inquisitive eyes might see our
strange experiments.
Mary made us pots of steaming coffee and Mr. Eammer paced helpfully
back and forth uttering unclear mumbles, as I toiled the long, wearying
hours.
It did not take long for me to gain an empirical understanding of what
I had, by which I mean that, like electricity in its early days, the
mysterious force could be utilized, made to perform, without complete
understanding of its basic nature.
The night came when I had full control of the machine. We stood staring
at it in awe. We had made Susie her normal size again. We had enlarged
the image of an old shoe, recklessly aimed the projector out toward the
country and flicked the short circuit switch that sent it out in space
as solid matter.
After three breathless days, we read the puzzled report in the
newspapers. A shoe eight feet long and three feet high had been found
in the backyard of a summer cottage. It was a three-day wonder, until
somebody advanced the theory that it was obviously a prop of some kind
of musical comedy movie.
* * * * *
I looked at my machine with the sense of having created one of the
greatest wonders of science. My voice was trembling with pride as I
said to Mary and Mr. Eammer, "The things that can be done with this
invention. The incredible things...."
"Yes," said Mr. Eammer, gloating. "And it's mine, all mine."
"You'll be the biggest man in the movie industry," I said solemnly.
"You made a good investment."
Mr. Eammer gave me a strange smile. "You are a great inventor, my boy,
but you have a small imagination. _Biggest_ man in Hollywood, did you
say? The _only_ man in Hollywood, you mean. Why, do you realize what I
can do with this machine? I can own Hollywood, Television, Broadway.
And I'll make a list of people I don't like that I'll get even with.
Why, I can be Master of the Entertainment World...."
The blinding realization of what I had done flared in my numbed brain.
I had given a tremendous scientific weapon to a ruthless moron. And
there was nothing I could do, because he had my blueprints locked in
his safe....