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Maja Dakić
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Language: English
Illustrated by Kramer
"Do we have time to go into the old yarn about the guy who listened
in and got replicas?" asked Arden.
"That's a woman's mind for you," grinned Channing. "Always making
things complicated. Arden, my lovely but devious-minded woman,
let's wait until we have the spry beastie by the ears before we start to
make rabbit pie."
"It's not as simple as it sounds," warned Walt. "But it's there to worry
about."
"But later. I doubt that we can reason that angle out."
"I can," said Arden. "Can we tap the power beams?"
"Wonderful is the mind of woman!" praised Don. "Positively
wonderful! Arden, you have earned your next fur coat. Here I've been
thinking of radio transmission all the time. No, Arden, when you're set
up for sheer energy transmission, it's strictly no dice. The crimped-up
jobs we use for communications can be tapped—but not the power-
transmission beams. If you can keep the gadget working on that line,
Walt, we're in and solid."
"I predict there'll be a battle. Are we shipping energy or
communications?"
"Let Kingman try and find a precedent for that. Brother Blackstone
himself would be stumped to make a ruling. We'll have to go to work
with the evidence as soon as we get a glimmer of the possibilities.
But I think we have a good chance. We can diddle up the focus, I'm
certain."
Arden glowered. "Go ahead—have your fun. I see another couple of
weeks of being a gadgeteer's widow." She looked at Walt Franks. "I
could stand it if the big lug only didn't call every tool, every part, and
every effect either she or baby!"
Walt grinned. "I'd try to keep you from being lonely, but I'm in this too,
and besides, you're my friend's best wife."
"Shall we drag that around a bit? I think we could kill a couple of
hours with it sometime."
"Let it lie there and rot," snorted Channing cheerfully. "We'll pick it up
later. Come on, Walt. We've got work to do."
Mark Kingman glowered at the 'gram and swore under his breath. He
wondered whether he might be developing a persecution complex; it
seemed as though every time he turned around, Venus Equilateral
was in his hair, asking for something or other. And he was not in any
position to quibble about it. Kingman was smart enough to carry his
tray very level. Knowing that they were waiting for a chance to prove
that he had been connected with the late Hellion Murdoch made him
very cautious. There was no doubt in any mind that Murdoch was
written off the books. But whether Murdoch had made a sufficiently
large impression on the books of Terran Electric to have the
connection become evident—that worried Kingman.
So he swore at each telegram that came in, and then sent the desired
object out with the next ship. Compared to his former attitude toward
Venus Equilateral, Mark Kingman was behaving like an honor student
in a Sunday school.
Furthermore, behaving himself did not make him feel good.
He punched the buzzer, told his secretary to call in the shop foreman,
and then sat back and wondered about the 'gram.
He was still wondering when the man entered. Kingman looked up
and fixed his superintendent with a fish glance. "Horman, can you
guess why the Venus Equilateral crowd would want two dozen gauge
blocks?"
"Sure. We use Johannson Blocks all the time."
"Channing wants twenty-four blocks. All three inches on a side—
cubes. Square to within thirty seconds of angle, and each of the six
faces optically flat to one quarter wave length of Cadmium light."
"Whoosh!" said Horman. "I presume the three-inch dimension must
be within a half wave length?"
"They're quite lenient," said Kingman bitterly. "A full wave length!"
"White of them," grunted Horman. "I suppose the same thing
applies?"
"We're running over thin ice," said Kingman reflectively. "I can't afford
to play rough. We'll make up their blocks."
"I wonder what they want 'em for."
"Something tricky, I'll bet."
"But what could you use two dozen gauge blocks for? All the same
size."
"Inspection standards?" asked Kingman.
"Not unless they're just being difficult. You don't put primary gauges
on any production line. You make secondary gauges for production
line use and keep a couple of primaries in the check room to try the
secondaries on. In fact, you usually have a whole set of gauge blocks
to build up to any desired dimension so that you don't have to stock a
half-million of different sizes."
"It's possible that they may be doing something extremely delicate?"
"Possible," said Horman slowly. "But not too probable. On the other
hand, I may be one hundred percent wrong. I don't know all the
different stuff a man can make, by far. My own experience indicates
that nothing like that would be needed. But that's just one man's
experience."
"Have a little trouble getting the focus to stay sharp through the
trace," complained Wes. "I can get focus of atomic proportions—the
circle of confusion is about the size of the atom nucleus, I mean—at
the axis of the tube. But the deflection of the cone of energy produces
aberration, which causes coma at the edges. The corners of an area
look fierce."
"I wonder if mechanical scanning wouldn't work better."
"Undoubtedly. You don't hope to send life, do you?"
"It would be nice—but no more fantastic than this thing is now. What's
your opinion?"
Wes loosened a set screw on the main tube anode and set the anode
forward a barely perceptible distance. He checked it with a vernier
rule and tightened the screw. He made other adjustments on the
works of the tube itself, and then motioned outside. They left the
blister, Wes closed the airtight, and cracked the valve that let the air
out of the blister. He snapped the switch on the outside panel and
then leaned back in his chair while the cathode heated.
"With electrical scanning, you'll have curvature of field with this
gadget. That isn't too bad, I suppose, because the restorer will have
the same curvature. But you're going to scan three ways, which
means correction for the linear distance from the tube as well as the
other side deflections and their aberrations. Now if we could scan the
gadget mechanically, we'd have absolute flatness of field, perfect
focus, and so forth."
Walt grinned. "Thinking of television again? Look, bright fellows, how
do you move an assembly of mechanical parts in quanta of one
atomic diameter? They've been looking for that kind of gadget for
centuries. Dr. Rowland and his gratings would turn over in their
graves with a contrivance that could rule lines one atom apart."
"On what?" asked Don.
"If it would rule one atom lines, brother, you could put a million lines
per inch on anything rulable with perfection, ease, eclat, and savoir
faire. You follow my argument? Or would you rather take up this slip
of my tongue and make something out of it?"
"O.K., fella. I see your point. How about that one, Wes?"
Wes Farrell grinned. "Looks like I'll be getting perfect focus with the
electrical system here. I hadn't considered the other angle at all, but it
looks a lot tougher than I thought."
He squinted through a wall-mounted telescope at the set-up on the
inside of the blister. "She's hot," he remarked quietly, and then set to
checking the experiment. Fifteen minutes of checking, and making
notes, and he turned to the others with a smile. "Not too bad that
way," he said.
"What are you doing?"
"I've established a rather complex field. In order to correct the
aberrations, I've got nonlinear focusing fields in the places where they
tend to correct for the off-axis aberration. To correct for the height-
effect, I'm putting a variable corrector to control the whole cone of
energy, stretching it or shortening it according to the needs. I think if I
use a longer focal length I'll be able to get the thing running right.
"That'll lessen the need for correction, too," he added, cracking the
blister-intake valve and letting the air hiss into the blister. He opened
the door and went inside, and began to adjust the electrodes. "You
know," he added over his shoulder, "we've got something here that
might bring in a few dollars on the side. This matter-bank affair
produces clean, clear, and practically pure metal. You might be able
to sell some metal that was rated 'pure' and mean it."
"You mean absolutely, positively, guaranteed, uncontaminated,
unadulterated, perfectly chemically pure?" grinned Don.
"Compared to what 'Chemically Pure' really means, your selection of
adjectives is a masterpiece of understatement," laughed Walt.
"I'm about to make one more try," announced Wes. "Then I'm going to
drop this for the time being. I've got to get up to the machine shop
and see what they're doing with the rest of the thing."
"We'll take over that if you wish," said Don.
"Will you? I'll appreciate it. I sort of hate to let this thing go when I feel
that I'm near an answer."
"We'll do it," said Walt. "Definitely."
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