Grimes's data had convinced Waldo that the old man had a case. Why, this was serious! The figures were incomplete, but nevertheless convincing. The curve of the third decrement, extrapolated not too unreasonably, indicated that in twenty years there would not be a man left with strength enough to work in the heavy industries. Button pushing would be all they would be good for

It did not occur to him that all he was good for was button pushing; he regarded weakness in the smooth apes as an old-style farmer might regard weakness in a draft animal. The farmer did not expect to pull the plough - that was the horse's job

Grimes's medical colleagues must be utter fools

Nevertheless, he sent for the best physiologists, neurologists, brain surgeons, and anatomists he could locate, ordering them as one might order goods from a catalogue. He must under­stand this matter

He was considerably annoyed when he found that he could not make arrangements, by any means, to perform vivisection on human beings. He was convinced by this time that the damage done by ultra short-wave radiation was damage to the neurological system, and that the whole matter should be treated from the standpoint of electromagnetic theory. He wanted to perform certain delicate manipulations in which human beings would be hooked up directly to apparatus of his own design to find out in what manner nerve impulses differed from electrical current. He felt that if he could dis­connect portions of a man's nervous circuit, replace it in part with electrical hookups, and examine the whole matter in situ, he might make illuminating discoveries. True, the man might not be much use to himself afterwards

But the authorities were stuffy about it; he was forced to content himself with cadavers and with animals

Nevertheless, he made progress. Extreme short-wave radia­tion had a definite effect on the nervous system - a double effect: it produced ‘ghost' pulsations in the neurons, In­sufficient to accomplish muscular motor response, but, he sus­pected, strong enough to keep the body in a continual state of inhibited nervous excitation; and, secondly, a living specimen which had been subjected to this process for any length of time showed a definite, small but measurable, lowering in the efficiency of its neural impulses. If it had been an electrical circuit, he would have described the second effect as a decrease in insulating efficiency

The sum of these two effects on the subject individual was a condition of mild tiredness, somewhat similar to the malaise of the early stages of pulmonary tuberculosis. The victim did not feel sick; he simply lacked pep. Strenuous bodily activity was not impossible; it was simply distasteful; it required too much effort, too much willpower

But an orthodox pathologist would have been forced to re­port that the victim was in perfect health - a little run-down, perhaps, but nothing wrong with him. Too sedentary a life, probably. What he needed was fresh air, sunshine, and healthy exercise

Doc Grimes alone had guessed that the present, general, marked preference for a sedentary life was the effect and not the cause of the prevailing lack of vigour. The change had been slow, at least as slow as the increase in radiation in the air. The individuals concerned had noticed it, if at all, simply as an indication that they were growing a little bit older,‘slowing down, not so young as I used to be'. And they were content to slow down; it was more comfortable than exertion

Grimes had first begun to be concerned about it when he began to notice that all of his younger patients were ‘the book­ish type'. It was all very well for a kid to like to read books, he felt, but a normal boy ought to be out doing a little hell raising too. What had become of the sand-lot football games, the games of scrub, the clothes-tearing activity that had characterized his own boyhood? Damn it, a kid ought not to spend all his time poring over a stamp collection

Waldo was beginning to find the answer

The nerve network of the body was not dissimilar to an­tennae. Like antennae, it could and did pick up electro­magnetic waves. But the pickup was evidenced not as induced electrical current, but as nerve pulsation - impulses which were maddeningly similar to, but distinctly different from, electrical current. Electromotive force could be used in place of nerve impulses to activate muscle tissue, but emf was not nerve impulse. For one thing they travelled at vastly different rates of speed. Electrical current travcls at a speed approach­ing that of light; neural impulse is measured in feet per second

Waldo felt that somewhere in this matter of speed lay the key to the problem

He was not permitted to ignore the matter of McLeod's fantastic skycar as long as he had intended to. Dr Rambeau called him up. Waldo accepted the call, since it was routed from the laboratories of NAPA. ‘Who are you and what do you want?' he demanded of the image

Rambeau looked around cautiously. ‘Sssh! Not so loud,' he whispered. ‘They might be listening.

‘Who might be? And who are you?

‘"They" are the ones who are doing it. Lock your doors at night. I'm Dr Rambeau.

‘Dr Rambeau? Oh yes. Well, Doctor, what is the meaning of this intrusion?

The doctor leaned forward untilhe appeared about to fall out of the stereo picture. ‘I've learned how to do it,' he said tensely

‘How to do what?

‘Make the deKalbs work. The dear, dear deKalbs.' He suddenly thrust his hands at Waldo, while clutching franti­cally with his fingers. ‘They go like this: Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!

Waldo felt a normal impulse to cut the man off, but it was overruled by a fascination as to what he would say next. Rambeau continued, ‘Do you know why? Do you? Riddle me that.

‘Why?

Rambeau placed a finger beside his nose and smiled roguishly. ‘Wouldn't you like to know? Wouldn't you give a pretty to know? But I'll tell you!

‘Tell me, then.

Rambeau suddenly looked terrified. ‘Perhaps I shouldn't. Perhaps they are listening. But I will, I will! Listen carefully: Nothing is certain

‘Is that all?' inquired Waldo, now definitely amused by the man's antics

‘"Is that all?" Isn't that enough? Hens will crow and cocks will lay. You are here and I am there. Or maybe not. Nothing is certain. Nothing, nothing, NOTHING is certain! Around and around the little ball goes, and where it stops nobody knows. Only I've learned how to do it.

‘How to do what?

‘How to make the little ball stop where I want it to. Look.' He whipped out a penknife. ‘When you cut yourself, you bleed, don't you? Or do you?' He sliced at the forefinger of his left hand. ‘See?' He held the finger close to the pickup; the cut though deep, was barely discernible and it was bleeding not at all

Capital! thought Waldo. Hysteric vascular control - a per­fect clinical case. ‘Anybody can do that,' he said aloud. ‘Show me a hard one.

‘Anybody? Certainly anybody can - if they know how. Try this one.' He jabbed the point of the penknife straight into the palm of his left hand, so that it stuck out the back of his hand. He wiggled the blade in the wound, withdrew it, and dis­played the palm. No blood, and the incision was closing rapidly. ‘Do you know why? The knife is only probably there, and I've found the improbability!

Amusing as it had been, Waldo was beginning to be bored by it. ‘Is that all?

‘There is no end to it,' pronounced Rambeau, ‘for nothing is certain any more. Watch this.' He held the knife flat on his palm, then turned his hand over

The knife did not fall, but remained in contact with the underside of his hand

Waldo was suddenly attentive. It might be a trick; it prob­ably was a trick - but it impressed him more, much more, than Rambeau's failure to bleed when cut. One was common to certain types of psychosis; the other should not have hap­pened. He cut in another vicwphonc circuit. ‘Get me Chief Engineer Stevens at North American Power-Air,' he said sharply. ‘At once!