by Rog Phillips
Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Ye of Little Faith
By Rog Phillips
Illustrated by TOM BEECHAM
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of ScienceFiction January 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidencethat the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: _It matters not whether you believe or disbelieve. Reality isnot always based on logic; nor, particularly, are the laws of theuniverse...._]
The disappearance of John Henderson was most spectacular. It occurredwhile he was at the blackboard working an example in multipleintegration for his ten o'clock class. The incompleted problem remainedon the board for three days while the police worked on the case. It, awrist watch and a sterling silver monogrammed belt buckle, lying on thefloor near where he had stood, were all the physical evidence they hadto go on.
There was plenty of eye-witness evidence. The class consisted offorty-three pupils. They all had their eyes on him in varying degrees ofattention when it happened. Their accounts of what happened all agreedin important details. Even as to what he had been saying.
In the reports that went into the police files he was quoted with a highdegree of certainty as having said, "Integration always brings into thepicture a constant which was not present. This constant of integrationis, in a sense, a variable. But a different type of variable than themathematical unknown. It might be said to be a logical variable--"
The students were in unanimous agreement and, at this point, Dr.Henderson came to an abrupt stop in his lecture. Suddenly, an expressionof surprise appeared on his face. It was succeeded by an exclamation oftriumph. And he simply vanished from the spot.
He didn't fade away, rise, drop into the floor, or take any timevanishing. He simply stopped being there.
_He just wasn't there any more._]
The police searched his room in the nearby Vanderbilt Arms Hotel. Theyturned a portrait of the missing math professor to the newspapers topublish. Arbright University offered a reward of one hundred dollars toanyone who had seen him.
The police also found a savings pass book in his room. It had a balanceof three thousand eight hundred and forty dollars, which had been builtup to that figure by steady monthly deposits over a period of years. Italso had a withdrawal of three hundred and twenty dollars two daysbefore the disappearance. They were sure they were on the path to amotive. This avenue of exploration came to an abrupt end with thediscovery that he had traded in his last year's car on a new one, andthat sum had been necessary to complete the deal.
After the third day the blackboard had been erased and the classroomreleased for its regular classes. Police enthusiasm dropped to the normof what they called legwork. Finding out who the missing man'sacquaintances and friends were, calling on them and talking to them inthe hopes of picking up something they could go on.
They passed Martin Grant by because they had heard from him in theirinitial work. In fact, he had been a little too present for theirtastes.
After ten days they dropped the case from the active blotter. TheUniversity, seeing that there was little likelihood of having to shellout the reward money, increased it to five hundred dollars.
But Martin Grant continued to ponder over a conversation he himself hadhad with John Henderson during a dinner six weeks to the day before hisold friend had vanished. He remembered his own words...
* * * * *
"... and so you see, John, by following this trail, I've arrived at atheory that has to do with the basic nature of the universe--of allreality. Yet things don't behave as they would if my theory wereoperating."
John Henderson frowned into space, disturbed. Visibly disturbed. Martinwatched him with a twinkle in his eyes.
"You must have gone off the track on it somewhere, Martin," John saidsuddenly, as though trying more to convince himself than his listener.
Martin shook his head with slow positiveness. "You followed every step.We spent four hours on it." He took pity on his friend. "Don't let itbother you. I regard it as just an intellectual curiosity. I've includedit in my next book on that basis."
A new voice broke in. "What is it, Dad? One of your ten-thousand-wordshaggy dog jokes?" This from Fred Grant, 16, student in the senior gradeat the Hortense Bartholemew High School, and an only child of MartinGrant.
"A little more respect toward your father," Martin said with muchsternness.
"Yes, Father."
"It was my _theory_."
John Henderson said, "But, Martin, I don't know what to think now. Ofcourse there must be some fallacy that I've missed. The way things standthough, I--" He chuckled uncomfortably. "I begin to doubt myself. Ican't quite classify it as an intellectual curiosity."
"What else can you do with it?" Martin said. "I know your trouble. It'sa common one. You have a tendency to believe things or disbelieve them.Now you've been presented with something your intellect demands that youbelieve, while your experience shouts, 'lie'."
"Is Fred able to understand it?" John asked, smiling at the youngsterwith fond and unconscious condescension.
"Not yet," Fred smiled. "I'm still in high school."
"And if you don't want to flunk out you'd better be off to bed at once,"Martin told him.
"Yes, Father. Good night, Dr. Henderson."
Fred's departure left a vacuum in the conversation that took a minute tofill. John Henderson frowned himself back to where he had been beforethe boy had arrived. When he got there he frowned even more, because itwas a state of mental confusion that seemed to have no way of beingresolved.
"Maybe we can get at it this way," he said. "Let's postulate that yourtheory is the only logical basis on which reality can rest. B, quiteobviously reality does not rest on this basis. We could make C,therefore, that reality doesn't rest on a logical basis. But thatdoesn't seem to satisfy me. Maybe C could be--no--" He glanced at hiswatch, lifted his eyebrows and stood up. "I really didn't know it was solate. I'll have to be going, Martin. An eight o'clock lecture in themorning."
Martin made a wry face. "You've awakened my own conscience. I have anhour or two of work yet before bedtime."
The two men went to the front door. John said, "Thank your wife againfor me. Wonderful dinner. You're lucky, Martin, to have such a goodcook."
* * * * *
That had been six weeks before John Henderson vanished. Martin Grantmentioned this visit to Horace Smith, one of the teachers in hisdepartment, and got himself and his wife invited for dinner on thefollowing Friday. Dinner over, the two professors retired to thelibrary.
Two and a half hours later Horace had assimilated and grasped everydetail of the theory. He then leaned back in his chair and closed hiseyes, fingertips to temples, trying to find some flaw. Finally he shookhis head. "It's no use," he said. "Your theory is logically inescapable.But--" He frowned. "Where does that place us? Probably where someschools of thought have always suspected we would wind up eventually.With the realization that the basic laws of the universe can't bereached by logic or even by experiment based upon logic."
"I wouldn't say that," Martin objected. "My theory is an intellectualcuriosity, that's all. That's the way I present it in my latest book. Bythe way, it's coming out soon. Signed the contract a month ago." Hepulled his thoughts back to the conversation. "After all, one must holdonto the pragmatic approach to reality. Here is a theory that logic saysmust be the only possible way a universe can be constructed andoperate. It's beautiful and logically complete, but not applicable. Nopragmatic value."
"Congratulations on the book. But, damn it," Horace said, "it attacks mymost basic faith. L
ogic. Reason."
"Faith?" Martin echoed, amused. "Yes, perhaps you're right. That's aword that's foreign to my thinking. Belief is so unnecessary."
"You don't mean that."
"But I do."
Horace pondered. "I can prove otherwise. You believe--as anexample--that your wife is faithful to you." It was a statement ratherthan a question.
"As a matter of fact--I don't. I act upon the greater probability thatshe is. I don't hire detectives to follow her. Nor do I throw her intosituations to test her faithfulness. I admit the possibility that she'sunfaithful to me. If evidence came that she was, I might confront herwith the evidence.
