Thrusting with somber solidity at the sphere from either side were two huge magnets, composed of the new nickel-chrome steel that possesses remarkable magnetic powers. Coils of infinitely fine strands of copper wire wound around their bar lengths, and connected by thick cables with the panel switchboard on the farther wall.
Around the sphere, hemming it in at equi-distances of five feet each, were what seemed to be gigantic parabolic reflectors, suspended from the ceiling or supported by floor stands with flexible jointed stems. Even underneath, through the transparency of the sphere where it poised in the hollow, could be seen a reflector pointing upward from the cellar.
“We’re ready to begin,” Jerry declared, taking his position near the switch panel.
The assembled audience stirred, leaned forward. Every man was a famous scientist; most of them were specialists in low temperatures. Except for Marlin, whose published article Sloan had contradicted, the rest were open to conviction.
Mrs. Wiggins had waddled to a seat in the front row, somewhat annoyed that these men of science had not done more than utter perfunctory words of greeting at her entrance. She compressed her fat lips, glared belligerently. She had been a fool to mess around with coldblooded brutes like these, who didn’t appreciate her hard-earned money or the graciousness with which she lavished it on them. Now if they had been artists and poets—
The boy, Egbert, wandered unnoticed in the rear of the laboratory, touching strange machines with possessive fingers.
“This apparatus,” said Jerry, “represents an entirely different method of solving the problem of extremely low temperatures; yes, of absolute zero itself. I grant you that the expansion and contraction method and the employment of liquid oxygen has been remarkably successful; so successful in fact that my good friend, Professor Marlin, has attained the astounding low of only a few thousandths of a degree above the absolute in solidifying the inert gas, helium.”
Marlin’s hatchet face, hitherto flintlike in its unreceptiveness, relaxed slowly. A faint smile of gratification flickered over his countenance. Jerry grinned to himself and went on:
“But, by the very nature of the process, as Professor Marlin has truly indicated, it is impossible to go any farther. Yet it is in that small few thousandths of a degree that science is tremendously fnterested. For solid helium, just like liquid oxygen, exhibits all the normal, usual properties of matter.”
“And why shouldn’t it?” some one asked.
“Because of the very nature of heat and cold,” Jerry retorted. “Theoretically cold is merely the absence of heat. And heat is merely a form of energy; the energy of matter in motion. Increase the speed of molecular vibrations within any material body, and you increase the heat of that body. Decrease their speed, and by the same token their energy emanations are lessened, and the body becomes ‘cold.’ Theoretically again, the absolute zero is achieved when the molecules cease all vibration, when they remain quiescent, possessing potential rather than kinetic energy.”
“Elementary, young man!” Marlin snorted. “We all know that. We also know it is impossible to reach this absolute.”
His compeers nodded. Mrs. Wiggins simply glowered. She didn’t quite understand all this talk, but she sensed that the assembled great men did not think much of her protégé—as she described Jerry Sloan to friends and reporters. Her jaw set ominously. A solid hundred thousand bucks wasted, and instead of respectful publicity for herself, the result might prove a boomerang. She caught Kay’s eye and glowered indignantly at the girl. How could anything turn out properly with a hussy like that on the job?
Kay glowered back with interest. “Old buzzard!” she mouthed, half audibly. The epithet was cleansing for her soul. She knew, with sudden fierce fear, that Jerry’s life work depended on the next few minutes.
But Jerry Sloan went on easily, outwardly unperturbed. “By the old methods, Professor Marlin, you are, of course, right,” he pointed out. “I’ve attacked the problem from its logical angle. Absence of molecular motion means absence of heat. Therefore, the thing to do is to stop the molecules in their paths, bring them to a halt. I’ve done that!”
NOW he had his sensation. The scientists half rose from their chairs, expostulating, arguing. “Impossible! Incredible!” rose from all sides.
“Not at all, gentlemen,” Jerry said quietly. “Look at this apparatus of mine. The crystal sphere is made of tourmaline. Now tourmaline possesses a very peculiar property. It can polarize light; that is, transmit light waves which vibrate only along a particular plane. That means, of course, that the tourmaline molecules lie along parallel axes and vibrate in definite planes. Those supermagnets will force them into the positions I require.”
Jerry pointed up at the reflectors. “Those are not reflectors, of course. They are the focuses of very powerful streams of impulses, of extremely minute wave lengths and alternating with a rapidity that I have been able to synchronize exactly with the period-of vibration of the tourmaline molecules. Their polarization, naturally, simplifies the problem. Their movements are not haphazard as in ordinary bodies, and can be accurately determined.”
“But I still don’t see what you’re driving at,” Marlin exploded.
“I haven’t finished,” Jerry said patiently. “I time my impulses to lock in with the vibrational periods of the tourmaline. Trough of impulse against recession of molecule; crest of wave against progression. In other words, I am damping the vibrations, providing push-pull resistance, interposing perfect interference. The result is obvious. The molecules are slowed up; their kinetic energy, instead of being dissipated, as heat, is locked up within their bosoms as positional energy; in other words, potential static energy. When they come to an absolute halt, we then have absolute zero.”
Professor Marlin permitted himself a bleak smile as he looked around the circle of his confreres.
“The theory of what Mr. Sloan is trying to do is simple enough, my friends. But”—he paused impressively to allow that to sink in—“putting it into practice is quite another matter. Ha! ha!”
Kay colored furiously. “The old fool!” she gritted between her pretty little teeth. “What does he know Jerry, show him; show them all!”
But the others had not joined the booming mockery. Perhaps this young fellow had something. So they just sat and waited.
“In another minute you will see the practice also,” he told Marlin evenly. “All right, Miss Ballard.”
The girl moved to the magnets, threw a switch. Nothing happened, yet every one knew that tremendous magnetic stresses were exercising polar attractions on the crystals.
“Why is that queer array of objects inside the globe?” queried Dakin, authority on gas pressures.
“Simply to get the effects of low temperatures on as wide a variety of materials as possible,” Jerry explained. “Now I’m going to turn on the juice.”
He moved a lever slightly over a rheostat arrangement. A soft, blue light glowed in gigantic, concentric tubes; the atmosphere was suddenly filled with the pungent odor of ozone as the reflectors glowed with brilliant pin points of flame all over their shiny parabolic surfaces.
Thousands of volts of invisible radiation, oscillating with unimaginable rapidity, hurtled from the reflectors and lashed with incredible force upon the crystal globe and all its contents.
II
A tense silence held them all in thrall as they leaned forward to see what was happening. Even Mrs. Wiggins stared with goggling eyes, vaguely impressed by the blue, lambent fires and the soft roaring of the machines. She forgot her son was there. The others had forgotten him long ago.
Egbert, however, was bored with the display. His sallow face was set in sullen lines. He wanted to go to the movies. He looked surreptitiously around. No one was watching him. His hand groped along an expensive galvanometer, pulled. Wires ripped away. An evil glee invaded his being. This was fun! Softly, he moved along the rear of the laboratory, pushing levers, jerking wires, twisting k
nobs, ruining thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment.
Meanwhile the physicists sat back in their seats, disappointed. Nothing seemed to have happened. “Well?” queried Marlin, faint triumph in his voice.
Jerry smiled. “Look at the bolometer,” he suggested.
A thermo-couple, attached inconspicuously within the interior of the globe, registered electrically on an amneter displayed on the panel board. By means of an ingenious contrivance invented by the young physicist, the current flow was converted into direct temperature readings.
The needle pointed boldly to two degrees Centigrade, only a trifle above freezing point. Yet the room temperature was almost twenty-seven degrees.
Marlin snorted skeptically. “Bah! What does that prove? Your high voltage alone, by ionization, by absorption of heat in expansion, could be responsible for a slight drop in temperature. I’ve solidified helium and you show me the freezing point of water!”
Jerry grinned engagingly. “I’ve only started. I’m doing this step by step. Watch!” Again he moved the lever—another notch.
The canary within the tourmaline ball stiffened. The bright-eyed mouse shivered. A vague film breathed like a giant’s breath over the clear transparency of the sphere. It spread rapidly, thickened, obscuring everything within. Then, unmistakably, hoar frost caked in filigree patterns, exuded steamy vapors into the June atmosphere of the laboratory. As one man they craned toward the bolometer.
The needle quivered at minus forty degrees Centigrade and was swinging farther to the left with little spasmodic jerks. A long suspiration lifted from the absorbed physicists. This was becoming interesting; decidedly so!
“Show our guests what is happening inside, Miss Ballard,” Jerry said placidly.
Kay nodded, picked up a flat knife from a table and diligently scraped at the smooth surface of the icy coating. It flaked away in long, solid crystals until a sufficient area was cleared to give an unobstructed view into the interior.
Both the mouse and the canary were rigid and immovable in their respective cages. The tank of water was a naked cake of ice; the glass container lay in a thousand shards around it, shattered by the expansive thrust of the congealing water.
The bolometer now read minus one hundred and twenty degrees Centigrade.
“Good Lord, man!” Dakin exclaimed suddenly. “You’re getting there.” Murmurs of assent drifted upward from the others. All except Marlin, who remained stubbornly aloof. But Jerry, outwardly placid in his moment of triumph, was becoming increasingly anxious. His careful, preliminary experiments had been abruptly cut off by Mrs. Wiggins’ idiotic insistence on immediate publicity. He had never tried it out beyond the boiling point of liquid air. What would happen after that?
The needle was accelerating on its downward grade. The room was perceptibly chilling. Wallace, the frail-looking chemist, shivered. The hard coating of frost was glassy now, transparent. It was too cold even to cast off steam or vapors. Within the sphere a colorless fluid condensed in a fine drizzle, rolled in a little puddle at the bottom concavity.
Startled eyes swerved to the bolometer. It stood at minus one hundred and ninety-five.
“Yes, gentlemen,” Jerry remarked. “That is liquid air you see. The gaseous atmosphere is completely gone. Fortunately the tourmaline is thick enough to resist the outside pressure created by the vacuum within.”
Kay stood close to the globe, exultant. It was cold, but she did not mind. The fierce glow of the electron tubes, the sparkle of the reflectors as they hurled their synchronized beats upon the globe, were no stronger or brighter than the happiness in her heart. Jerry had shown them, had stifled their sneers. Already the needle wagged closer and closer to the absolute zero. Minus two hundred and seventy, just below the liquefying point of helium.
No one moved; no one stirred. The whine of the machines rose in the frozen air; they sat with lips parted. Minus two hundred and seventy-one! Minus two hundred and seventy-two! Almost two hundred and seventy-three, the absolutely zero of all temperature! The needle slowed, quivered, held fast. That last few thousandths of a degree, magnified on the scale to perceptible dimensions, seemed an insurmountable barrier.
Marlin’s voice was explosive with relief. “A very excellent machine, Mr. Sloan. A very fine method of achieving low temperatures. But—my thesis is still unshaken. You cannot gain the absolute zero. By the very nature of things you cannot. You have proved my point.”
Kay flushed. “But he can, Mr. Marlin,” she cried out. “Look! The rheostat lever is over only part of the way. The last notch represents full power, perfect synchronization. Go on, Jerry. Show them!”
Jerry Sloan shook his head. “No,” he stated in flat tones. “I haven’t tested that phase yet. I don’t know what might happen. Within a month I’ll know more about it.”
“I’ll tell you now,” chuckled Marlin. “Nothing; absolutely nothing. You’ve reached the last outpost, the same as I did. Your method is new and ingenious, but it adds nothing to the sum total of knowledge.”
Mrs. Wiggins woke with a start at that. This was something she could understand. Professor Marlin was internationally known; he had just said young Sloan’s experiment meant nothing.
She rose wrathfully from her seat. Her voice was shrill, excited. “So this is what I spent a hundred thousand on! An experiment that means nothing. You worked on my good nature, on my generosity, with lies, lies! You’re a fraud, a cheat!”
Jerry flushed. His hands clenched, unclenched. If only she were a man! “Now listen to me, Mrs. Wiggins,” he said miserably. “I didn’t promise miracles. I wouldn’t be a scientist if I did. But I have discovered something extremely important. It’s just that I must have time to make certain that nothing goes haywire; that—”
The bootlegger’s widow threw her fat arms wildly toward the others. “Listen to him!” she shrilled. “He wants time. Time! Always he tells me that magic word—time! On account of that I spent a hundred thousand; on account of that he wants still more. Show me now!” she clamored. “Or I’ll take every bit of stuff out of here. I’ll sell it, get what I can to make up my losses.”
Her make-up was streaked; her eyes glared. She was beyond reason. Jerry gritted his teeth, started for her. “You wouldn’t dare do that,” he said very low.
“Oh, I wouldn’t!” she exclaimed, appealing to the hushed physicists. “Listen to him. A beggar that I made into a scientist. He robbed me of a hundred thousand and he tells me I don’t dare!”
The men shuffled uneasily, embarrassed at this strange woman’s stranger outburst. They avoided each other’s eyes, avoided especially the tense figure of Jerry Sloan. Even Marlin was abashed. Dakin started to expostulate mildly, found the woman’s torrent of words too much for him, and muttered vaguely something about an important appointment he must keep. He really must be going. Really! No one heard him.
Kay gripped the edge of the table with white-knuckled hands. “You old buzzard!” she cried. “You and your filthy money! You ought to thank God you were able to give it to Mr. Sloan for his work. That’s the only way you’ll ever be remembered.”
The frantic woman swung her ponderous form around. “Buzzard!” she wailed. “She called me a buzzard! Me, Edna Wiggins, worth ten million cold plunks. That hussy called me—Oh! Oh!”
Kay was angry clear through. She had cleansed her soul, made up for all the petty insults, the little tyrannies of a year’s politeness. But she was also frightened. By her outburst she had sealed Jerry’s fate irrevocably. That vindictive old woman would never forgive; would put her threat into merciless action. Kay quivered almost against the frozen surface of the sphere. The cold pierced her marrow, chilled her flesh, but she did not feel it.
Jerry, white with rage, left the panel board, strode purposefully in the direction of the woman whose filthy money had financed him. He’d be damned if he’d let her get away with that; and he’d be triple damned if he’d be pushed into an experiment of which he had no present w
ay of telling what the results might be.
Mrs. Wiggins was on the verge of a spectacular faint, and the men, great scientists though they were, knew nothing of feminine tantrums. They were alarmed, crowded around her with fumbling assistance.
So it was that no one saw Egbert Wiggins. That young scion of beer and millions was not interested in his mother’s tantrums. He had seen plenty of those before. But he had successfully ripped away all the wires he could find in the rear of the room, had had a swell time pushing buttons, swinging knife edges. Nothing had happened, though. Therein he was vaguely disappointed. Nothing spectacular, nothing that would focus attention on himself. He loved that!
His too-sophisticated eyes swung around the room for new worlds to conquer. They lighted up suddenly. That lever now—how temptingly it rested in its notch. He made his way stealthily toward it, gloating in anticipation.
Jerry, grim and hard of jaw, was pushing his way through the clustered scientists, toward the shrieking woman in their midst. Kay, aghast at what she had done, shrank even closer to the great sphere.
“Now you listen to me,” Jerry commenced, biting his words sharply.
Young Egbert pounced upon the lever with triumphant haste. His small, grubby fingers tightened, swung hard toward the right. As far as it would go. The great tubes flared into blinding blue streaks; the soft whine crescendoed to a howling roar. The reflectors blazed with crackling energy. A million volts seared and crashed into the ice-covered sphere. Within, liquid air was solid air; a tiny globule of helium became nodules of frozen gas. The ham fell with a splintering thud as the tortured cord, brittle beyond all imagining, snapped in two.
Four Astounding Novellas Page 20
