A Large Anthology of Science Fiction

by Jerry

  “Whew!” Jerry whispered to the girl who stood a little to one side and just a trifle to the rear, as became a laboratory assistant in the presence of her chief and betters. “Did you see the glare with which old Marlin favored me?”

  “You can’t blame him, can you?” she retorted. “He’s just solidified liquid helium, and proved by intricate mathematical formulas that he has approached within several thousandths of a degree of absolute zero. He has also announced that it is impossible to achieve lower temperatures. Then you come along and tell him he’s all wrong. That it not only is possible, but that you can do it. Furthermore, you add insult to injury by questioning the whole expansion-contraction, ammonia-liquid oxygen cycle as the proper method for getting extremely low temperatures. After all, Marlin and the others are only human.”

  Kay Ballard was an extremely pretty girl, thereby disproving once and for all the ridiculous old maxim that brains and beauty do not mix. Behind her impish smile and warm, dancing eyes was a cool, steady mind which by native brilliance and adequate training had proved of invaluable assistance to Jerry Sloan. Not that he didn’t appreciate also the impish smile aforesaid, the dancing eyes and the peach blow of smooth-textured skin. Quite the contrary. As a matter of fact—but that is neither here nor there for the moment.

  “I suppose not,” Jerry admitted. Little creases of worry had suddenly appeared on his forehead, and a harassed look on his face. The last of the invited guests had entered the laboratory, and they were alone in the anteroom. “That’s what will make it all the worse if the experiment fizzles. I should have waited another month, made all my preliminary tests first.”

  “It can’t fail,” Kay assured him encouragingly. “We’ve gone over the mathematics of it time and again. It’s air-tight.”

  Then, with fine feminine in-consecutiveness, she burst out indignantly, “It’s all the fault of that old buzzard, Edna Wiggins. She had no right to force you on with a public announcement just because the endowment year was up.”

  “She’s paying the expenses,” Jerry reminded her softly, “and she can call the tune. Besides, Marlin has made her jittery about me. Maybe I’m only a four-flusher.”

  Kay shook her brown bob defiantly. “A lot she knows about science,” she declared. “It’s the publicity she’s after. Mrs. Wiggins, widow of the late beer baron, the eminent bootlegger, patroness and endower of the arts and sciences. She’s afraid now she’s backed the wrong horse. The old buzzard!”

  “Sssh!” Jerry warned. “Here she comes now.” He raised his voice. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Wiggins. We were waiting for you.”

  A HIGHLY uniformed chauffeur had preceded her, stood with heels clicked and hands stiffly at attention. She waddled in, fat, indeterminate of age, dressed lavishly and expensively, yet in extremely bad taste. Kay’s unflattering characterization was apt, Jerry thought, as he forced cordiality into his voice. In spite of the gross breadth of her body, her face was startlingly hollow and leathery, with saclike pouches hanging from her scrawny neck and a fierce, predatory nose overshadowing all her features.

  “Good!” Her thinnish head was like a pendulum bobbing on her enormous bulk; her voice was hoarse and mannish. “That means I won’t be wasting my time. I’ve an appointment with my beautician at six sharp.”

  Her beady, glittering eye passed disapprovingly over the trim youthfulness of Kay—she had argued vehemently with Jerry on the question of young lady lab assistants, but on that point Jerry had been adamant—and pierced her unhappy protégé with hostile regard.

  “I’ve spent a hell of a lot of money on this idea of yours, young man,” she went on inelegantly, “and I expect results to-day. Show those fellows you invited that you’ve got the goods, and I’ll stake you to a cool million. The Edna Wiggins Foundation, hey? But if you can’t——”

  “I wanna go to the movies. I don’t wanna stay in this stupid old place.” The little boy, about eight, whom she had towed in, half hidden behind her billowing form, darted from behind, beat at her with small, angry fists. His sullen face was distorted with anger.

  “There, there, mama’s precious,” his mother cooed. “Mr. Sloan’s going to show you something just as nice as the movies.”

  But mama’s precious kept on howling. “I don’t like him and his silly experiments. I wanna see a movie. That’s fun.”

  Jerry and Kay exchanged glances. The young physicist shrugged. Under his breath he swore. If ever there was a spoiled brat whose neck he’d like to wring, it was young Egbert Wiggins’. His doting mother dragged him everywhere, and several times there had been near catastrophes in the laboratory because of his darling little ways.

  For the moment Jerry was tempted to throw the whole thing up, tell the great Edna Wiggins a few plain, unvarnished truths, but that would mean the end of his work, the end of all his scientific dreams. So he ground his teeth, put on his best smile, and ushered his benefactress and her still-squalling brat into the main laboratory where the assembled physicists were inspecting the complicated apparatus with intense, albeit somewhat skeptical interest.

  Kay brought up the rear, shaking her shapely fist with a certain vicious intensity at the unsuspecting backs of mother and son.

  The apparatus was well worth close attention. In the very center of the great room, poised in a cuplike depression within the floor, was a hollow crystal ball of some fifteen feet in diameter. Its transparent substance held a bluish tinge. Within, slightly magnified and irradiated by the distorting medium of the crystal, were various articles: An iron bar; a chair of carved wood; a small glass tank filled with water; a loaf of bread; a smoked ham, suspended by cord from a hook embedded in the crystal wall; a cage with a tiny white mouse; another with a frightened, fluttering canary.

  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 cold-blooded 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 sm
all 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 knobs, 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.
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  “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.”