 or your money back. This is a LibreVox recording. All LibreVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreVox.org. Recording by Tom Weiss. Or your money back by Gordon Randall Garrett. There are times when I don't know my own strength, or at least the strength of my advice. And the case of Jason Holly was certainly an instance of one of those times. When he came to my office with his gadget, I heard him out trying to appear both interested and cooperative, which is good business. But I am forced to admit that neither Holly nor his gadget were very impressive. He was a lean, slope-shouldered individual, five feet eight or nine, which was shorter than he looked, with straight brown hair combed straight back, and blue eyes which were shielded with steel-rimmed glasses. The thick double concave lenses indicated a degree of myopia that must have bordered on total blindness without glasses and acute tunnel vision, even with them. He had a crisp, incisive manner that indicated he was either a man who knew what he was doing or a man who was trying to impress me with a ready-made story. I listened to him and looked at his gadget without giving any more indication than necessary of what I really thought. When he was through, I said, you understand, Mr. Holly, that I am not a patent lawyer. I specialize in criminal law. Now, I can recommend, but he cut me off. I understand that, counselor, he said sharply, believe me, I have no illusion, whatever, that this thing is patentable under the present patent system. Even if it were, this gadget is designed to do something that may or may not be illegal, which would make it hazardous to attempt to patent it, I should think. You don't patent new devices for blowing safes or new drugs for doping horses, do you? Probably not, I said dryly, although, as I say, I'm not qualified to give an opinion on patent law. You say that gadget is designed to cause minute, but significant changes in the velocities of small moving objects. Just how does that make it illegal? He frowned a little. Well, possibly it wouldn't, except here in Nevada. Specifically, it is designed to influence roulette and dice games. I looked at the gadget with a little more interest this time. There was nothing new in the idea of inventing a gadget to cheat the red and black wheels, of course. The local cops turn up a dozen a day here in the city. Most of them either don't work at all, or else they're too obvious, so the users get nabbed before they have a chance to use them. The only ones that really work have to be installed in the tables themselves, which means they're used to milk the suckers, not rob the management. And anyone in the state of Nevada who buys a license to operate and then uses crooked wheels as A. stupid, and B. out of business within a week. Howly was right. Only in a place where gambling is legalized is it illegal and unprofitable to rig a game. The gadget itself didn't look too complicated from the outside. It was a black plastic box about an inch and a half square and maybe three and a half long. On one end was a lensed opening, half an inch in diameter, and on two sides there were flat silver-colored plates. On top of it there was a dial which was, say, an inch in diameter, and it was marked off just exactly like a roulette wheel. How does it work? I asked. He picked it up in his hand, holding it as though it were a flashlight with the lens pointed away from him. You aim the lens at the wheel, he explained, making sure that your thumb is touching the silver plate on one side and your finger is touching the plate on the other side. Then you set this dial for whatever number you want to come up and concentrate on it while the ball is spinning. For dice, of course, you only need to use the first six or twelve numbers on the dial, depending on the game. I looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure his angle. He looked back steadily, his eyes looking like small beads peering through the bottoms of a couple of shot glasses. You look skeptical, counselor, he said at last. I am. A man who hasn't got the ability to be healthily skeptical has no right to practice law, especially criminal law. On the other hand, no lawyer has any right to judge anything one way or the other without evidence. But that's neither here nor there at the moment. What I'm interested in is, what do you want me to do? People rarely come to a criminal lawyer unless they're in a jam. What sort of jam are you in at the moment? None, said Holly. But I will be very soon. I hope. Well, I've heard odder statements than that from my clients. I let it ride for the moment and looked down at the notes I'd taken while he told me his story. You're a native of New York City, I asked. That's right, that's what I said. And you came out here for what, to use that thing on our Nevada tables? That's right, counselor. Can't you find any games to cheat on back home? Oh, certainly, plenty of them. But they aren't legal. I wouldn't care to get mixed up in anything illegal. Besides, it wouldn't suit my purpose. That stopped me for a moment. You don't consider cheating illegal. It certainly is in Nevada. In New York, if you were caught at it, you'd have the big gambling interest on your neck. Here you'll have both them and the police after you and the district attorney's office. He smiled. Yes, I know. That's what I'm expecting. That's why I need a good lawyer to defend me. I understand you're the top man in this city. Mr. Holley, I said carefully, as a member of the Bar Association and a practicing attorney in the state of Nevada, I am an officer of the court. If you had been caught cheating and had come to me, I'd be able to help you. But I can't enter into a conspiracy with you to defraud legitimate businessmen, which is exactly what this would be. He blinked at me through those shot glass spectacles. Counselor, would you refuse to defend the man if you thought he was guilty? I shook my head. No. Legally, a man is not guilty until proven so by a court of law. He is a right to a trial by jury. For me, to refuse to give a man the defense he's legally entitled to, just because I happen to think he was guilty, would be trial by attorney. I'll do the best I can for any client. I'll work for his interests no matter what my private opinion may be. He looked impressed. So I guess there must have been a noted conviction in my voice. There should have been, because it was exactly what I've always believed and practiced. That's good, Counselor, said Holly. If I can convince you that I have no criminal intent, that I have no intention of defrauding anyone or conspiring with you to do anything illegal, will you help me? I didn't have to think that went over. I simply said yes. After all, it was still up to me to decide whether he convinced me or not. If he didn't, I could still refuse the case on those grounds. That's fair enough, Counselor, he said. Then he started talking. Instead of telling you what Jason Holly said he was going to do, I'll tell you what he did do. They are substantially the same, anyway, and the old bromide about actions speaking louder than words certainly applied in this case. Mind you, I didn't see or hear any of this, but there were plenty of witnesses to testify as to what went on. Their statements are a matter of court record, and Jason Holly's story is substantiated in every respect. He left my office smiling. He convinced me that the case was not only going to be worthwhile, but fun. I took it, plus a fat retainer. Holly went up to his hotel room, changed into his expensive evening clothes, and headed out to do the town. I'd suggested several places, but he wanted the biggest and best, the Golden Casino, a big, plush, expensive place that was just inside the city limits. In his pockets, he was carrying less than $200 in cash. Now, nobody with that kind of chicken feed can expect to last long at the Golden Casino unless they stick to the two-bit, one-armed bandits. But putting money on a roulette table is in a higher bracket by far than feeding a slot machine, even if you get a steady run of lemons. Holly didn't waste any time. He headed for the roulette table right away. He watched the play for about three spins of the wheel. Then he took out his gadget in plain sight of anyone who cared to watch and set the dial for 13. Then he held it in his hand with thumb and finger touching the plates and put his hand in his jacket pocket with the lens aimed at the wheel. He stepped up to the table, bought $100 worth of chips, and put $50 on number 13. No more bets, said the croupier. He spun the wheel and dropped the ball. 13, black, odd, and low, he chanted after a minute. With a practiced hand, he raked in the losers and pushed out Holly's winnings. There was $1,600 sitting on 13 now. Holly didn't touch it. The wheel went around and the little ball clattered around the rim and finally fell into a slot. 13, black, odd, and low, said the croupier. This time he didn't look as nonchalant. He peered curiously at Holly as he pushed out the chips to make a grand total of $51,200. The same number doesn't come up twice in succession very often, and it is very rare indeed that the same person is covering it both times with a writing bet. 2000 limits, sir, the croupier said, when it looked as though Holly was going to let the 51 grand just sit there. Holly nodded apologetically and pulled off everything but $2,000 worth of chips. The third time around, the croupier had his eyes directly on Holly as he repeated the chant. 13, black, odd, and low, everybody else at the table was watching Holly too. The odds against Holly, or anyone else for that matter, hitting the same number three times in a row are just under $40,000 to $1,000. Holly didn't want to overdo it. He left 2000 on 13, raked in the rest, and twisted the dial on his gadget over a notch. Everyone at the table gasped as the little ball dropped. That was a near miss, whispered a woman standing nearby. The croupier said, 14, red, even, and low, and he raked in Holly's $2,000 with a satisfied smile. He had seen runs of luck before. Holly deliberately lost two more spins the same way. Nobody who was actually cheating would call too much attention to himself, and Holly wanted it to look as though he were trying to cover up the fact that he had a sure thing. He took the gadget out of his pocket and deliberately set it to the green square marked 00. Then he put it back in his pocket and put $2,000 on the double zero. There was more than suspicion in the croupier's eyes when he raked in all the bets on the table, except Holly's. It definitely didn't look good to him. A man who had started out with a $50 bet had managed to run it up to $174,200 in six plays. Holly looked as innocent as possible under the circumstances and carefully dropped the dial on his gadget back a few notches. Then he bet another $2,000 on high, an even money bet. Naturally, he won. He twisted the dial back a few more notches and won again on high. Then he left it where it was and won by betting on red. By this time, of course, things were happening. The croupier had long since pressed the alarm button and five men had carefully surrounded Holly. They looked like customers, but they were harder looking than the average and they were watching Holly, not the wheel. Farther back from the crowd, three of the special deputies from the sheriff's office were trying to look inconspicuous in their gray uniforms and white stetsons and pearl-handled revolvers and black holsters. You can imagine how inconspicuous they looked. Holly decided to do it up brown. He reset his gadget as surreptitiously as possible under the circumstances and put his money on 13 again. 13, black, odd, and low, said the croupier in a hollow voice. The five men in evening dress and the three deputies moved in closer. Holly nonchalantly scraped in his winnings leaving the 2000 on the 13 spot. There was a combination of hostility and admiration in every eye around the table when the croupier said 13, black, odd, and low for the fifth time in a space of minutes and every one of those eyes was turned on Jason Holly. The croupier smiled his professional smile. I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, we'll have to discontinue play for a while. The gentleman has broken the bank at this table. He turned the smile on Holly. Congratulations, sir. Holly smiled back and began stacking up his $300,000 worth of plastic discs. It made quite a pile. One of the deputies stepped up politely. I'm an officer, sir, he said. May I help you carry that to the cashier's office? Holly looked at the gold star and nodded. Certainly, thanks. The other two deputies stepped up too and the three of them walked Holly toward the cashier's office. Behind them came the five men in dinner jackets. You'll have to step into the office to cash that much, sir, said one of the deputies as he opened the door. Holly walked in as though he hadn't a care in the world. He put his chips on the desk and the deputies followed suit while one of the dinner jacket men closed the door. Then one of the deputies said, I believe this gentleman is carrying a gun. He had his own revolver out and had it pointed at Holly's middle. Carrying a concealed weapon is illegal in this city, he went on. I'm afraid we'll have to search you. Holly didn't object. He put his hands up high and stood there while his pockets were frisked. Well, well, said the deputy Cooley, what on earth is this? It was Holly's gadget and the dial still pointed to 13, black, odd, and low. The next morning I went down to the jail to a phone call from Holly. The special deputies had turned him over to the city police and he was being held under suspicion of fraud. I knew we could beat that down to an attempt to defraud, but the object was to get Holly off scot-free. After Holly told me the whole story, I got busy pushing the case through. As long as he was simply being held on suspicion, I couldn't get him out on bail. So I wanted to force the district attorney or the police preferred charges. Meanwhile, I made sure that Holly's gadget had been impounded as evidence. I didn't want anyone fiddling with it before the case went to court, except, of course, the DA and his men. There wasn't much I could do to keep it out of their hands. After throwing as much weight around as I could, including filing a petition for a writ of habeas corpus with Judge Granis, I went over to Holly's hotel with a signed power of attorney that Holly had given me and I got a small envelope out of the hotel safe. It contained a baggage check. I went over to the bus depot, turned over the check to the baggage department, and went back to my office with a small suitcase. I locked myself in and opened the case. Sure enough, it contained three dozen of the little gadgets. There I sat down to wait. By noon, Judge Granis had issued the writ of habeas corpus and rather than release Jason Holly, the police had booked him and district attorney Thursby was getting the case ready for the grand jury. There was over a quarter of a million dollars at stake and the men behind the Golden Casino were bringing pressure to bear. If Holly wasn't convicted, they'd have to give him his money and that was the last thing they wanted to do. A quarter of a million bucks isn't small potatoes even to a gambling syndicate. It wasn't until early on the morning of the third day after Holly's arrest that I got a tip-off from one of my part-time spies. I scooped up the phone when it rang and identified myself. Counselor, look, this is Benny. I recognized the voice and name. Benny was one of the cabbies that I'd done favors for in the past. What's the trouble, Benny? Ah, no trouble. I just got a little tip you might be interested in. Fire away. While the DA and some of his boys went into the Golden Casino about ten minutes ago and now they're closing up the place. Just for a little while, I understand. Hour maybe. They're chasing everyone out of the roulette room. Thanks, Benny. I said thanks a lot. Well, I knew you was working on that Holly case and I thought this might be important, sure, Benny. Come by my office this afternoon and thanks again. I hung up and started moving. Within ten minutes I was pulling up and parking across the street from the Golden Casino. I locked the car and dodged traffic to get across the street as though I'd never heard of laws against jaywalking. There were still plenty of people in the casino. The bar was full and the dice and card games were going full blast. Slot machines were jingling out their infernal din while fools fed coins into their insatiable innards. But the roulette room was closed and a couple of bestets and deputies were standing guard over the entrance. I had it straight for them. Both of them stood pat, blocking my way, so I stopped a few feet in front of them. Hello, counselor, said one. Sorry, the roulette room's closed. I knew the man slightly. Let me in, Jim, I said. I want to see Thursby. The men exchanged glances. Obviously, the DA had given them orders. Can't do it, counselor, said Jim. We're not to let anyone in. Tell Thursby I'm out here and that I want to see him. He shrugged, opened the door, stuck his head inside and called the District Attorney Thursby to tell him that I was outside. I could hear Thursby's muffled, damn, from within. But when he showed up at the door, his face was all smiles. What's the trouble? He asked pleasantly. I smiled back, giving him my best. No trouble at all, Thursby. I just wanted to watch the experiment. Experiment? He looked honestly surprised, which was a fine piece of acting. We're just checking to see if the tables wired. Well, if it is, your client may be in the clear. Maybe we can hang it on the croupierre. And get a conspiracy charge on my client, too, eh? Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to watch that table check myself. You know how it is. Thursby hesitated. Then he scalded. Oh, all right. Come on in, but stay out of the way. I grinned. Sure, all I want to do is protect my client's interests. Thursby just grunted and opened the door wider to let me in. He was a shrewd lawyer, a good DA, and basically honest, even if he did have a tendency to bend under pressure from higher up. They were checking the table, all right. They had three specialists going over it with everything from fine-toothed combs to Geiger counters. They found nothing. No magnets. No wires. No mechanical gimmicks. Nothing. It took them an hour to take that table apart, check it, and put it back together again. When it was all over, Thursby glanced at me, then said, Okay, boys, that does it. Let's go. The men looked at him oddly, and I knew why. Aren't you going to test my client's gadget? I asked innocently. Thursby looked angrily baffled for a moment. Then he clamped his lips grimly. As long as we're here, I guess we might as well. I knew perfectly well it was what he had intended to do all along. One of you guys spin that wheel, he said to the technicians. One of them gave the wheel a spin and dropped the ball. It clattered on its merry way and dropped into a slot. 42. Thursby took the gadget out of his pocket. It was still set at 13. The men who had surrounded Holly on the night of his arrest had been keeping their eyes open and they had seen how Holly had handled the thing. Well, almost how. Thursby had the lens opening pointed at the wheel, but his thumb and fingers weren't touching the silver plates properly. Spin it again, he said. Everyone's eyes were on the ball as it whirled, so I had time to get my own copy of Holly's gadget out and set it at 13. The thing would work for me. I concentrated on 13, making sure my thumb and fingers were placed right. Evidently, they were. The ball fell into 13, black, odd, and low. A huge grin spread over Thursby's face, but he was man enough not to turn and grin at me. Try it again, he said. 13, black, odd, and low. I wonder how the thing works, said Thursby, looking at the gadget in a sort of pleased awe. You'd better be able to prove that it does work, Thursby, I said, trying to put irritation in my voice. This time he did grin at me. Oh, I think we can prove that, all right. He turned back to the technician. Spin it once more, Sam, and show the defense counsel here how it works. The technician did as he was told. 13, black, odd, and low, he chanted grinning. Let's try another number, Thursby said. He turned the dial to 1, and this time, when he pointed it, his fingers were touching the plates in the right places. Just a minute, I said. Let me spin the thing. Be my guest, counselor, said Thursby. I spun the wheel and scooted the ball along the rim. It dropped into a slot. 1, red, odd, and low. I looked as disappointed and apprehensive as I could. Coincidence, I said. Nothing more. You haven't proved anything. Thursby's grin widened. Of course I haven't, he said with a soothing patronizing tone. But I don't have to prove anything until I get to court. Then he looked at the technicians and jerked his head toward the door. Let's go, boys. Maybe the counselor wants to look over the table for himself. Maybe he thinks we've got it rigged. There was a chorus of guffaws as they walked out. I just stood there, scolling, trying to keep from laughing even harder than they were. Jason Holley sat next to me at the defense table, just inside the low partition that divided the court from the public. There weren't many people in the auditorium itself. Listening to some poor dope get himself sentenced for cheating at gambling is considered pretty dull entertainment in the state of Nevada. Thursby had managed to push the indictment through the grand jury in a hurry. But as he sat across the room from me at the prosecution table, I thought I could detect a false note in the assumed look of confidence that he was trying to wear. Holley tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and he whispered, How much longer? I tapped my wrist watch. Couple minutes. Judge Lapworth is one of those precisionists, never a moment late or early. Getting jumpy? He shook his head gently and smiled. No, you've handled this even better than I'd have imagined. You've thought of things I didn't even know existed. I'm no lawyer. I can see that. I returned the smile. And I don't indent gimmicks either. So what? His eyes looked at me from behind the distorting negative lenses. I've been wondering, counselor, why are you so interested in this? I mean, I offered you a pretty good fee and all that, but it seems to me you're taking an unusual interest in the case. I grin at him. Mr. Holley, my profession is law, with a capital L. The study of law isn't like the study of physics or whatever. These are man-made laws, commands, not descriptions. They don't necessarily have anything to do with the facts at all. Take the word insanity, for instance. The word isn't even used by hedge shrinkers anymore, because it's a legal definition that has nothing whatever to do with the condition of the human mind. Now, any such set of laws as that can't possibly be self-consistent and still have some use on an action level. A lawyer's job is to find the little inconsistencies in the structure, the places where the pieces have been jammed together in an effort to make them look like a structured whole. To find, in other words, the loopholes and use them. And when I find a loophole, I like to wring everything I can out of it. I'm enjoying this. Holley nodded. I see, but what if something I held up my hand to silence him because the door to the judge's chambers opened at that moment and Judge Lapworth came in as the bailiff announced him. We all stood up while the bailiff intoned his oh yay, oh yay. Thursby made a short preliminary speech to the jury, and I requested and was granted permission to hold my own opening statement until the defense was ready to present its case. Thursby was looking worried, although it took a trained eye to see it. I was pretty sure I knew why. He had been pushed too hard and had gone too fast. He'd managed to slide through the grand jury too easily, and I had managed to get the trial date set for a week later. Thursby's case was far from being as tight as he wanted it. I just sat still while the prosecution brought forth its witnesses and evidence. The croupriere, the deputies, several employees of the Golden Casino, and a couple of patrons all told their stories. I waved cross-examination in every case, which made Thursby even edgier than he had been. When he called in the head of the technician who had inspected the table at the casino, I made no objection to his testimony, but I made my first cross-examination. Mr. Thompson, you have stated your qualifications as an expert on the various devices which have been used to illegally influence the operation of gambling devices in this state. Thursby said, Oh, if the court please, I should like to remind counsel for the defense that he has already accepted the qualifications of the witness. I am not attempting to impugn the qualifications of the witness, I snapped. Judge Lapworth frowned at Thursby. Are you making an objection, Mr. District Attorney? Thursby pursed his lips, said, Know your honor, and sat down. Proceed with the cross-examination, said the judge. Mr. Thompson, I said, You have testified that you examined the table at the Golden Casino for such devices and found none. Is that right? That's right, he said positively. Have you seen the device labeled People's Exhibit A, which was found by the officers on the person of the defendant? Well, yes, I have. Have you examined the device? Thursby was on his feet. Objection, your honor, this material was not brought out in direct examination. Sustained, said Judge Lapworth. Very well, your honor, I said. Then I turned back to Thompson. As an expert in this field, Mr. Thompson, you have examined many different devices for cheating gambling equipment, haven't you? Yes, I have. How many would you say? Oh, several hundred. Several hundred different types? No, several hundred individual devices. Most of them are just variations of two or three basic types. And you are familiar with the function of these basic types and their variations? I am. You know exactly how all of them worked then. He saw where I was heading. Most of them, he hedged. Thursby saw where I was heading too and was sweating. I'd managed to get around his objection. Have you ever examined any which you could not understand? I don't quite know what you mean. Have you ever, I said firmly, come across a device used in cheating which you could not comprehend or explain the operation of? Thursby stood up. Same objection as before, your honor. Your honor, I said. I am merely trying to find the limitations of the witness' knowledge. I am not trying to refute his acknowledged ability. Overruled, said Judge Lapworth. The witness will answer the question. I repeated the question. Yes, said Thompson in a low voice. More than once? Only once. Only once. You did find one device which didn't operate in any fashion you can explain. Is that right? That's right. Can you tell me what this device was? Thompson took a deep breath. It was People's Exhibit A. The device taken from the defendant at the time of his arrest. There was a buzz in the courtroom. No more questions, I said, turning away. Then, before Thompson could leave the stand, I turned back to him. Oh, just one moment, Mr. Thompson. Did you examine this device carefully? Did you take it apart? I opened it and looked at it. You just looked at it. You didn't subject it to any tests. Thompson took a deep breath. No. Why not? There wasn't anything inside it to test. This time, there was more than just a buzz around the courtroom. Judge Lapworth rapped for order. When the room was quiet, I said, the box was empty then. Well, no, not exactly empty. It had some stuff in it. I turned to the judge. If the court please, I would like to have the so-called device Exhibit A open so that members of the jury may see for themselves what it contains. Judge Lapworth said, the court would like very much to see the internal workings of this device, too. Bailiff, if you will, please. The bailiff handed him the gadget from the exhibit table. How does it open? asked the judge. He turned to Thompson. Will the witness please open the box? Reluctantly, Thompson thumbed the catch and slid off the top. The judge took it from him, looked inside, and stared for a long moment. I had already seen the insides. It was painted white, and there were ink lines running all over the inside and various pictures. A ball, a pair of dice, a roulette wheel, and some other symbols that I didn't pretend to understand. Otherwise, the box was empty. After a moment, Judge Lapworth looked up from the box and stared at Thursby. Then he looked at Thompson. Just what test did you perform on this, this thing, Mr. Thompson? Well, Your Honor, Thompson said, visibly nervous. I checked it for all kinds of radiation and magnetism. There isn't anything like that coming from it. But he had it lamely. There wasn't much else to test. Not without damaging the box. I see his honor glared at Thursby, but didn't say anything to him. He simply ordered the box to be shown to the jury. Thursby was grimly holding his ground, waiting. Have you any more questions, counselor? The judge asked. No, Your Honor, I have not. Witness may step down, said his honor to Thompson. Thursby stood up. If the court please, I would like to stage a small demonstration for the members of the jury. The court gave permission, and a roulette wheel was hauled in on a small table. I watched with interest and without objection while Thursby demonstrated the use of the gadget and then asked each of the jurors in turn to try it. It was a long way from being a successful demonstration. Some of the jurors didn't hold the thing right, and those that did just didn't have the mental ability required to use it, but that didn't bother Thursby. Your Honor and gentlemen of the jury said, you are all aware that a device constructed for the purpose of cheating at any gambling game is not necessarily 100% infallible. It doesn't have to be. All it has to do is turn the odds in favor of the user. You were all familiar with loaded dice, I'm sure, and you know that loading dice for one set of numbers merely increases the probability that those numbers will come up. It does not guarantee that they will come up every time. It is the same with marked cards. Marking the backs of a deck of cards doesn't mean that you will invariably get a better hand than your opponent. It doesn't even mean that you will win every hand. The device taken from the defendant at the Golden Casino does not, as you have seen, work every time. But, as you have also seen, it certainly does shift the odds by a considerable percentage, and that, I submit, is illegal under the laws of this state. He went on, building on that theme for a while, then he turned the trial over to the defense. Call Dr. Pettigrew to the stand, I said. I heard Thursby's gasp, but I ignored it. A chunky balding man with a moon face and an irritated expression came up to be sworn in. He was irritated with me for having subpoenaed him, and he showed it. I hoped he wouldn't turn out to be hostile. You are Dr. Pettigrew? I asked. That is correct. State your residence, please. 3109 La Jolla Boulevard, Los Angeles, California. You are called Dr. Pettigrew, I believe. Would you tell the court what right you have to that title? He looked a little miffed, but he said, it is a scholarly title, a doctorate of philosophy and physics from Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I see. Would you mind telling the court what other academic degrees you have? He reeled off a list of them, all impressive. Thank you, doctor, I said. Now, what is your present occupation? I am a professor of physics at the University of California in Los Angeles. I went on questioning him to establish his ability in his field, and by the time I was finished, the jury was pretty well impressed with his status in the scientific brotherhood. And not once did Thursday object. Then I said, Dr. Pettigrew, I believe you came to this city for a professional matter. Yes, I did. He didn't hesitate to answer, so I figured I hadn't got his goat too much. And what was the nature of that matter? I was asked to come here by Mr. Harold Thursby, the district attorney, to perform some scientific tests on the device, the device known as People's Exhibit A. Did you perform these tests? I did. At the request of district attorney Thursby, is that right? That is correct. May I ask why Mr. Thursby did not call you as a witness for the prosecution? Thursby, as I had expected, was on his feet. Objection! The question calls for a conclusion of the witness. Sustained, said Judge Lapworth. Dr. Pettigrew, I said, what were your findings in reference to exhibit A? He shrugged. The thing is a plastic box, with a dial set in one side, a plastic lens in one end, and a couple of strips of silver-long two other sides. Inside there are a lot of markings in black ink on white paint. He gestured toward the exhibit table. Just what you've seen, that's all there is to it. What sorts of tests did you perform to determine this, Dr. Pettigrew, I asked? He took a long time answering that one. He had x-rayed the thing thoroughly, tested it with apparatus I'd never heard of, taken scrapings from all over it for microchemical analysis, and even tried it himself on a roulette wheel. He hadn't been able to make it work. And what is your conclusion from these findings, I asked? Again, he shrugged. The thing is just a box, that's all. It has no special properties. Would you say it could be responsible for the phenomena we have just seen? By that I mean the peculiar action of the roulette wheel demonstrated here by the prosecution? Definitely not, he stated flatly. The box could not possibly have any effect on either the wheel or the ball. I see. Thank you, Dr. That's all. Cross-examine. Thursday walked over to the witness stand with the belligerent skull on his face. Dr. Pettigrew, you say that the box couldn't possibly have had any effect on the wheel. And yet, we have demonstrated that there is an effect. Don't you believe the testimony of your own senses? Certainly I do, snapped Pettigrew. Then how do you account for the behavior of the roulette wheel as you have just seen demonstrated in this court? I suppressed the grin. Thursby was so mad that he was having trouble expressing himself clearly. In several ways, Pettigrew said sharply, in the first place that wheel could be rigged. Thursby purple. Now, just a minute. I started to object, but Judge Lapworth beat me to it. Are you objecting to the answer, Mr. District Attorney? The witness is insinuating that I falsified evidence. I am not, said Pettigrew, visibly angry. You asked me how I could account for its behavior, and I told you one way. There are others. The wheel will be examined, said Judge Lapworth darkly. Tell us the other ways, Dr. Pettigrew. Pure chance, said Pettigrew. Pure chance, Your Honor. I'm sure that everyone in this courtroom has seen runs of luck on a roulette wheel. According to the laws of probability, such runs must inevitably happen. Frankly, I believe that just such a run has occurred here. I do not think for a minute that Mr. Thursby or anyone else rigged that wheel. I see. Thank you, Dr. Pettigrew, said the judge. Any further questions, Mr. District Attorney? No further questions, Thursby said, trying to hide his anger. Your next witness said the judge, looking at me. I call Mr. Jason Holly to the stand. Holly sat down and was sworn in. I went through the preliminaries, then asked, Mr. Holly, you have seen People's Exhibit A? I have. To whom does it belong? It is mine. It was taken from me by just answer the question, please, I admonished him. He knew his script, but he was jumping the gun. The device is yours, then. That's right. Under what circumstances did this device come into the hands of the police? He told what had happened on the night of the big take at the Golden Casino. Would you explain to us just what this device is? I asked when he had finished. Certainly, he said. It's a good luck charm. I could hear the muffled reaction in the courtroom. A good luck charm. I see. Then it has no effect on the wheel at all. Oh, I wouldn't say that. Holly said disarmingly. He smiled and looked at the jury. It certainly has some effect. It's the only good luck charm I ever had that worked. The jury was grinning right back at him. They were all gamblers at heart, and I never knew a gambler yet who didn't have some sort of good luck charm or superstition when it came to gambling. I'm all in the palms of our hands. What I mean is, does it have any physical effect on the wheel? Holly looked puzzled. Well, I don't know about that. That's not my field. You'd better ask Dr. Pettigrew. There was a smothered laugh somewhere in the courtroom. Just how do you operate this good luck charm, Mr. Holly? I asked. Why, you just hold it one strip of silver and your fingers touch the other, then you set the dial to whatever number you want to come up and wish. Wish? Just wish, Mr. Holly? Just wish. That's all. What else can you do with a good luck charm? This time, the judge had to pound for order to stop the laughing. I turned Holly over to Thursby. The DA hammered at him for a half an hour, trying to get something out of Holly, but he didn't get anywhere useful. Holly admitted that he'd come to Nevada to play the wheels. What was wrong with that? He'd admitted that he'd come just to try out his good luck charm and what was wrong with that. He even admitted that it worked for him every time. And what was wrong, pray with that. Thursby knew he was licked. He'd known it for a long time. His summation to the jury showed it. The expressions on the faces of the jury as they listened showed it. They brought in a verdict of not guilty. When I got back to my office, I picked up the phone and called the Golden Casino. I asked for George Brocky, the manager. When I got him on the phone and identified myself, he said, Oh, it's you. His voice didn't sound friendly. It's me, I said. I suppose you're going to slap a suit for false arrest on the casino now, eh, counselor? Not a bit of it, George, I said. The thought occurred to me. But I think we can come to terms. Yeah. Nothing to it, George. You give us the 300 grand and we don't do a thing. Yeah, he didn't get it. He had to fork over the money anyway, according to the court order. So what was the deal? If you want to go a little further, I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll give you one of our little good luck charms if you'll promise to call your boys off holly. Nobody's on holly, he said. You ought to know better than that. In this state, if we get whipped in court, we play it square. Did you think we were going to get rough? No, but you kind of figured on lifting that gadget as soon as he gets it back from the DA, didn't you? I saw your boys waiting at his hotel. I'm just telling you that you don't have to do that. We'll give you the gadget. There are plenty more where that came from. I see, Rocky said after a long pause. Okay, counselor, it's a deal. Fine, we'll pick up the money later this evening if that's okay. Sure, counselor, anytime, anytime at all. He hung up. I grinned at holly, who was sitting across the destiny. Well, that winds it up. I don't get it, holly said. Why'd you call up Rocky? What was the purpose of that deal? No deal, I told him. I was just warning him that killing you and taking the gadget wouldn't do any good. That we've covered you. He won't bother having anything done to you if he knows that the secret of the gadget is out already. Holly's eyes widen behind those spectacles of his. You mean they'd kill me? I thought Nevada gamblers were honest. Oh, they are, they are. But this is a threat to their whole industry. It's more than that. It may destroy them. Some of them might kill to keep that from happening. But you don't have to worry now. Thanks. Tell me, do you think we've succeeded in what you set out to do? Certainly. When we mail out those gadgets to people all over the state, the place will be in an uproar. With all the publicity this case is getting, it'll have to work. You now have a court decision on your side. A decision which says that a psionic device can legally be used to influence gambling games. Why? Man, they'll have to start investigating. You'll have every political in the state of Nevada insisting that scientists work on that thing to say nothing of what the syndicate will do. All I wanted to do, said Holly, was force people to take notice of psionics. I guess I've done that. You certainly have, brother. I wonder what it will come to. I wonder myself sometimes, holly said. That was three and a half years ago. Neither holly nor I are wondering now. According to the front page of today's Times, the first spaceship with a crew of 80 aboard reached Mars this morning. And on page two, there's a small article headline, rocket obsolete, say scientists. It sure is. This is the end of For Your Money Back by Gordon Randall Garrett. Recording by Tom Weiss. Question of comfort. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Tom Weiss. Question of comfort by Les Collins. The Gravity Gang was a group of geniuses devoting its brilliance to creating a realistic solar system for Disneyland. That was the story, anyway. No one would have believed all that stuff about cops and robbers from outer space. My job, finished now, had been getting them to Disneyland. The problem was bringing one in particular, one I had to find. The timing was uncomfortably close. I'd taken the last of the yellow pills yesterday, tossing the bottle away with a sort of indifferent frustration. I won or lost on the validity of my logic and whether I'd built a better mousetrap. The pills had given me 24 hours before the fatal weakness took hold. Nevertheless, I waited as long as I could. That left me less than an hour. Now, strangely, as I walked in the airy darkness of an early morning, virtually deserted Disneyland, I felt calm. And yet, my life depended on the one I sought being inside the tour building. I was seeking a monster of terrible potential, yet so innocuous looking that he'd not stand out. I couldn't produce him. Couldn't say where in the world he was. Nevertheless, he was the basis, the motivation second only to mine. I took the long, hard way, three years making him come to me. Two years were devoted to acclimatization, learning, and then swinging this job, just to put the idea across. Assigned to Disneyland public relations in the offices at Burbank, I'd begun with the usual low-pay, low-level jobs. I didn't. Couldn't mind. At least I had a foot in the right door. Within six months, I reached a point where I could present the idea. It had enough merit. My boss, 35 years experience, enabled him to recognize a good idea, took it to his boss, and took it to the boss. Tomorrowland is the orphaned division of Disneyland, thrown in as SOP to those interested more in the future than the past. My idea was to sex up Tomorrowland, tour the solar system. Not really, but we'd build it that way. The tour of the solar system building was to be large. Its rooms would reproduce environments of parts of the system as best as we knew them. I'll never forget the first planning session when we realists were underdogs, yet swung the basic direction. By then, the Hollywood mind had appeared. The Hollywood mind is definitely a real thing, a vicious thing, a blank thing that paternalistically insists it knows what the public wants. There was general agreement on broad outlines. Trouble began over Venus. Of course, said one of the minds, he'll easily create a swampy environment. I burst out with quiet desperation. May I comment? The realists were churning. Right there, sides were being chosen. I let all know my side immediately. Venus is hot, but it's desert heat. Continuous dust storms with fantastic winds. People that never go for that junk interrupted the mind. Everyone knows Venus is swampy. Everyone who's reading taste matured no further than Edgar Rice Burroughs. The mind, with a if you know so much why ain't ya rich looked, sneered. How come you know all about it? Speechless, I spread my hands. This joker was leading with his chin, forcing the fight. I had to hit him again. If I lost, I lost good. A person, I said slowly and rhythmically, with normal intelligence and a minute interest in the universe will keep stepped with the major sciences, at least on an elementary level. I must stress the qualification of normal intelligence. The mind, face contorted, was determined to get me. I was in a very vulnerable smut. More important, so was the idea. Mind began an emotional tirade and mentally I damned him. It couldn't have mattered to him what environment we used, but he was politicking where he shouldn't. There was a silence when he stopped. This was the crux. The boss would decide. I held my breath. He said, We'll make it hot and dusty. The realists had won. The rest climbed on the bandwagon but quick and the temple was cleansed. It was natural, because at the moment I was fair-haired for the project to become mine. God knows I worked hard for it. I'd have to watch the mind though. He would make things as difficult as possible. However, he proved he was the one person I wasn't seeking. One down and 2,499,999,999 to go. Within a few days, a new opposition coalition formed headed by the mind. Fortunately, they helped. I'd hesitated on one last point. Pushed, I gambled the momentum of the initial enthusiasm would carry it. Originally, the plan was a series of rooms glassed off that people could stare into. There was something much better. Engineering and I spent 36 hours straight figuring costs, juggling space and equipment until the modification didn't look too expensive. Juggling is always possible in technical proposals. For the results, the cost was worth it. I hand-carried the proposal in. Why not take people through the rooms? We could even design a simulated, usable space chute. There'd be airlock doors between the rooms for effectiveness, insulation, economy. No children under 10 allowed, no adults over 50. They'd go through in groups of 10 or 11. Sure, I realized this was the most elaborate, most ambitious concession ever planned. The greatest ever attempted in its line, it would cost both us and the public, but people will pay for value. They'd go for a buck and a half, or even two. The lines of those filing past the windows at 50 cents a crack would also bring in the dough. They bought it. Not all, they nixed my idea of creating exact environmental conditions, and I didn't insist. Luck and Hollywood being what they are. From the first, I established a special group to work on one problem. They were dubbed the Gravity Gang, and immediately after the GG. I hired them for the gravity of the situation, a standard gag that, once uttered, became as trite as the phrase. The tour's realism would be affected by normal weight sensations. The team consisted of a female set designer who turned any male head from the studio, a garage mechanic with 30 years experience, an electronics engineer, a science fiction writer, and their prettiest competent secretary available. I found Hazel, discovering with delight that she'd had three years of anthropology at UCLA. As soon as they assembled, I explained their job, find a way to give the illusion of lessened gravity. Working conditions would be the best possible. Why I wanted the women pretty, and their time was their own. I found the GG responded by working 10 hours a day, and thinking another 14. They were that sort. I couldn't know the GG was for doomed to failure by its very collective nature, nor could I know by its nature the GG meant the difference between my success and failure. The opposition put one over. We'd started referring to the job as tour of the system project. Next day, it was going the rounds as TS project. Words, words, and men will always fight with words. Actually, the initials were worthy of the name. The engineering problems mounted like crazy. Words, words, and one of them got to the outside world, or maybe it was the additional construction crew we hired. One logical spot for the building was next to the moon flight. The tour building now would be bigger than first plan, so we extended it south-easterly. This meant changing the roadbed of the Santa Fe and Disneyland Railroad. It put me up to my ears in plain surveying, and gave me a nasty shock. I looked up at someone's shout in time to see a ton of cat rolling down the embankment at me. What we were doing was easy, using a spiral to transition gradually from tangent to circular curve and from circular curve to tangent. Easy? Yeah, sure. If this was my baby, I'd damn well better know its personality traits. I was out with the surveyors. I was out with the construction gang. I was out at the wrong time. As the yellow beast, mindless servant of man, thundered down, I'd go for the rocks. Thank God for the rocks. We'd had to import them. The soil in Orange County is fine for oranges, but too soft for train roadbeds. Choking on the dust I rolled over, the cat perched, grinning drunkenly on the rocks. The opposition or an accident. Surely the mind wasn't that desperate, but I was. I had to keep the idea alive for myself as well as completion of the original mission. Several million hands pulled me out. Several million more padded away the dust. Motionless, I'd just seen the driver of the cat, seen him, and was sorry. He stood tall, but hunched over, gaunt with pasty skin, vapid eyes, and a kind of yellow, nondescript hair. It wasn't the physical characteristics very similar to mine that bothered me. Once after an incomplete pass I'd been told by a young lady that I was a thin, sallow letcher. I was swept by waves of impending trouble, more frightened of him than of the opposition in Toto. Then, relieved, I realized the man wasn't the one I was expecting. Back in my office I wasn't allowed the luxury of nervous reaction. Our spacesuit man wanted an OK on design changes. Changes? What changes? Oh yes, go ahead. A materials man wanted to know about weight. I told him where to go for the information. A written progress report from the GG briefly, sardonically said, all the talk about increased costs and lowered budget has decided us to ask if any aircraft, missile, or AEC groups have come up with anti-gravity. It'd be a lot simpler that way, love and kisses. I shrugged, wrote them a memo to take a week off for fishing, quenching, or reading van s on the Pleistocene stratigraphy of Java. I didn't care as long as they returned with a fresh point of view. Things were hectic already, less than four months after we'd started. And we hadn't much to show except a shift in the roadbed of the SF&D R&R. The opposition, growing stronger each day could sit back and rest the case with nothing more than a smug needling I told you so, look. The day finally came when we broke ground for the building. It was quite an achievement and I invited the GG to dinner. I'd been drawn to the bunch of screwballs, the only name possible, more and more. Maybe because they were my brainchild or maybe because lately they were the only human company in which I could relax. The hotel is a half mile south of Disneyland. I arrived early, hoping to grab a ginger ale. Our set designer, Frank, Chris and Francis, bought me at the door. Wanted to buy you a drink. This is the first time we've met socially. That was true. It was equally true something bothered her. Damn it. Trapped, I'd have to drink. We ordered and I mulled it over, waited, but she said nothing. The drinks came. I shook several little bright yellow pills from the bottle, swallowed them, then drank. Frank cocked her head inquisitively. If you must know, they're from my ulcer. Didn't know you had one. Don't, but I'll probably get one any day. She laughed that I drank again. I should do my drinking alone because I get boiled incredibly fast. It happened now. I was sober, the next drunk. Resting a cheek on a wobbly palm and elbow, I said, has anyone ever said you are the most beautiful? Yes, but in your present state, it isn't a good idea for you to add to that number. I shifted to the other forearm. Frank, things might be different if I were a thin, sallow letcher. What a nice compliment. Uh-huh. Especially since I work for you nominally anyway. Uh-huh. Nominally. Bosses should not make passes at gals who work as lower classes. Uh-huh. Familiar. But you are and getting more so daily. Uh-huh. Or what? I asked in surprise. Then, tired, the G.G. has decided you are working too hard. Because I don't use vinyl, I grin, having waited long to put that one across. Be serious and listen. You listen. If I'm working too hard, it's to finish. I must and soon. This compulsion, she paced her words, will kill you if you let it. It'll kill me if I don't let it. Here comes Harry. It was time. Blirrly, I fumbled with the pills, spilled the bottle. Frank helped me gather them up as Harry arrived. He said, a look of worry on his gaunt grey features, the rest of us are waiting. Concerned, Frank asked. Think you're able? Any time you say. I answered in a cold, stoker monotone. She flushed, knowing I was sober, not knowing, certainly, if I were serious. When we were seated, I said enthusiastically, Chateau Brion tonight, gangsters. The G.G. did not react as expected. Dex, the electronics engineer, said quietly, if it's stake when the ground is broken, what'll it be when the thing is finished? A feast for all the animals in the world, just like Suleiman been doubted. This from the G.G. writer, Mel. Their faces showed the same thing that bothered Frank. Harry said, we have something to do. Well, do it. I tried weak joviality. It can't be anything of earth-shaking gravity. Hazel, long since accepted as a G.G. member, replied, it's just that we're resigned. What? We've produced nothing in months of sustained effort. That's why we're resigning, Dex replied disgustedly. Frank touched my arm, said softly. We've examined every angle. With the money available, it's just impossible to give a sensation of changed weight. And we know they've been pressuring you about us being on the payroll. Wait, desperately. If you pull out, everything will go. The opposition needs only something like this. Besides, the G.G. is the one bit of insanity I can depend on in a practical world. The prop for my judgment. Harry, cloud of judgment. Mel, expensive prop. Having grown used to their friendly insults, I sensed their resolution weakening. Felt the pendulum swinging back. The waitress interrupted with news of an urgent phone call. It was the worst possible time for me to leave. And the news I got threw me. Feeling the weight of the world, I returned. Can't be in two places at once, I said bitterly. Go ahead without me. I'm leaving. Wait a few minutes, Mel said, between bites of steak. We want to resign. Sit down. Damn it, I can't. I spoke to the boss. I pulled the boo-boo, but big. What happened? Bonesnell will do the backgrounds, but he has to know what rocks we're putting in the room. What rocks are we? Anybody have an idea what the surface of Mars looks like? God, how can I have missed that? Sit down. The boss said casually, we want to resign. Hazel added, you can have your rocks in 24 hours. We worked it out weeks ago. I did read Van Ez and Harry has prospected and Dex knows minerals and Mel pushed his way through Tyrell's Principles of Petrology, the science of rocks. Mel interrupted between bites of steak. We got interested one day. Frank's pretty dark eyes danced. We want to resign. Dex repeated casually. So sit down. I sat. They began throwing the ball faster than I can catch. No atmosphere on Mercury. Then no oxidation. I insist there'd be no straight metals. The asteroids? Ferromagnetium blocks of some kind. Any base alts around here? For Venus? Grab a truckload of grano diorite. The spotted stuff. From the Sierra Nevadas. Intended pink. Lateritic soils for Mars? You crazy? Must have water in a subtropical climate. It hit me. A valid use for the GG. One that already saved money. Make them a brain team, troubleshooters or problem solvers on questions that could not be solved. I said, fine. Go ahead. About your resignations. Something indistinguishable. I'd caught him on a bite of steak. Hazel, belligerent, demanded, are you asking us to resign? Apparently I wasn't. So they stuck and another crisis was met. Unfortunately by then I'd forgotten the shock and warning I got from the cat. Things moved swiftly. More easily. The GG took over. Becoming in effect my staff. They'd become more. Five different extensions of me. Each capable of acting correctly. As a team. They meshed beautifully. Two beautifully. At one point. Dex and Hazel were seeing eye to eye. Even in the dark. And I worried about the effect on the others. I might as well have worried about the effect of a light bulb on the sun. They married or some such. Refused time off. And the GG function. If anything better. It was almost indecent the way the five got along together. A new problem arose. Temperature. We weren't reproducing actual temperatures. But the rooms needed a marked change for reality's sake. I'd insisted on that. And having won the point was stuck with it. It was after 2 a.m. I was alone in the office. The sound of the outer door closing startled me. Footsteps approached. I hurried to clean my desk. Sweeping the bottle into the drawer. You're up too late. Go home. Frank had a non-arguable look in her eye. You're supposed to be getting sleep. I am. Far more than before you guys began helping. But with all that extra sleep you're looking worse. I don't need any more sleep. I said angrily. Then tried diversion. Been on a date? Yes, but I thought I'd better check on you. She moved close to the desk and I remembered the last time we'd been alone in the bar. Now I was glad I wasn't drunk. What the devil are you up to? She pawed through the desk drawers finding what you tried to hide. Wait Frank! I yelled too late. She looked at the bottle. Then me with a strange expression. A little pity. Not patronizing. But mostly feminine understanding. So to pop? Of course. You don't like alcohol, do you? No. Gruffly. Her eyes blinked rapidly as I was holding back tears. I know what's the matter with you. I really know. There's nothing to matter with me that beating this mess won't solve. We hadn't heard Mel enter. He leaned casually against the door. Terrific idea for a story. I shrugged. Seems to be homecoming night. Not quite, he glanced at his watch. But wait another few minutes. He was right. Parry out of breath was the last of the GG to arrive. Now what, I asked. Surely this meeting isn't an accident. Dex said thoughtfully. No, not really. But it is in the sense you mean. We didn't agree to appear tonight. Yet logically it's time for the temperature problem. Well, I guess each of us came down to help. What could I do? That was the GG, characteristically. So we talked temperatures. What I was thinking Harry began slowly was a sort of super thermostat. Harry, as usual, came to the right starting point. Frank smiled. That's right. Especially considering layout. Venus and Mercury are hot. The other's cold. What about a control console that'll light when the rooms get outside normal temperature range? Then the operator, hey, why an operator, Mel questioned. We ought to make this automatic. He grinned. Giant computer. Can you see it now? The brain comes alive. Tries to destroy anyone turning it off. I asked, have you been reading this stuff, you right? Funny enough for 3am. Dex said calmly. We can work this in fact, we can tie it in pink ribbons and forget it. An electronics outfit in Pasadena makes an automatic scanning and logging system. Works off paper punch tape. We'll code the right poop and the system will compare it with the actual raw data. Feedback will be to a master control servo that'll activate the heater or cooler. Now we need the right pickup. I snap my fingers. Variable resistor bridge. Couple of resistors equal at the right temperature. There'll be a frequency change with changing temperatures better than a thermocouple I think. They looked at me as though I were budding in. You've been reading too, Dex accused. Okay. We'll use a temperature bulb. Trouble is with this system we better let it run continuously. That'll drive costs up. Hazel asks, can't we use the heat maybe to drive a compressor? The sudden expansion of air could cool the rest. Harry? Harry hadn't had time to answer. What'll this cost? I snapped. Roughly 15 to 18,000 Dex replied. What? With fine impartiality they ignored me completely. Harry continued as though without interruption. Yes. I guess that compressor and coolant system could be arranged. We broke up at 6 a.m. I took one of my pills, frowning at the bottle. Seemed to be empty and fast. Sleepily I shook the thought off and faced the new day. Little knowing the opposition had managed to skizzle us again. The last displays were moons of Jupiter and Saturn. It was impossible to recreate tortured conditions of the planets themselves. Saturn's closest moon, Mimas, was picked. Our grand finale landing on Mimas with Saturn rising spectacularly out of the east. Mimas is in the plane of the rings, so they couldn't be obvious. We'd show enough however to make it damned impressive and explain it by vibration of the satellite. The mechanics of realistically moving Saturn was rougher than a cob. And that's where the opposition fixed us. They claimed there wasn't enough drama in the tour. Let it end with a flash of light, a roar and a meteor striking nearby. The roar came from us. Mimas had no atmosphere. How could the meteor sound off or burn up? We finally compromised, permitting the meteor to hit. We decided early the customers couldn't walk through. Mel first, Harry, then Dex together produced an electric powered open runabout. The cart ran on treads in contact with skillfully hidden tracks for the current channel. A futuristic touch that we'd say the cart ran on broadcast power. The power source provided cart headlights and made batteries unnecessary for the guide's walkie-talkie and the customer's helmet receivers. Mimas last section of track was on a vibrating platform. The cart dripped a switch when the meteor supposedly hit. The platform would drop and rise 3 inches fast, twisting while it did. Enough, Mel said grimly to shake the damn kishkas out of them. We cracked that one just in time for another. It began with Venus as most of my problems had. We planned constant dust storms for Venus. Real quick, there'd be nothing left of Bona Stel's backgrounds but a blank wall from mechanical erosion. And how did we entam glass too easily scratched? Lord, another one. How will the half a buck customers be able to see inside? Glass in one of those silicon plastics? Better, but Harry beat it. Glass, plastic and a boundary layer of cold air jetted down from the ceiling in front of the background painting and back of the look-in window. I was glad for lately Harry had begun to age. Thin and gray, he showed the strain as did all of us. We were sitting in an administration office at the park. I now recognize the symptoms when the GG had no real problems its collective mind usually turned to my health. I wouldn't admit it, but I felt a little peaked, little hell. Bone tired. Dog weary pooped. Seemed every motion was effort, but soon it would end. The phone rang. With the message it was ended. Let's go Grouseketeers. There was almost a pregnant pause. Six months, conception of the idea to delivery the finished product. Six months, working together, fighting men, nature and the perversity of inanimate objects. All of this now was done. No one moved. Frank verbalized it. I'm scared. She sounded scared. Better than being petrified which I am, I answered but we might as well face it. We dragged over to the TS building an impressive structure. The guide played it straight, told us exactly how to suit up. Then in order, we edged into the tunnel that was the first lock and warned to set our fillers emerged onto the blinding surface of Mercury. We felt the heat momentarily. Mercury and Venus were kept at a constant 140 degrees F, the others at 0 degrees F, but it was a deliberate thrill. Then cool air from the cart suit connections began circulating. Bonastel was magnificent, as always. Yellow landscape, spatter cones, glittering streaks that might be metal in the volcanic rock created by dusting ground mica on wet glue to catch the reflection of the sun. It was a masterpiece. The sun, black sky holding a giant, blazing ball. Too damn yellow, but filtered carbon arcs were the best we could do. Down into the tunnel that was locked to, this next one, Venus, obvious opposition point of attack where we'd had the most trouble. Venus had to be right. It was a blast of wind struck us and dust swirling everywhere. We'd discovered there's no such thing as a sandstorm. It's really dust. So we'd taken pains making things look right. Sand dunes were carefully cemented in place. Dust rippling over gave the proper illusion. Oddly shaped rocks, dimly seen strengthened the impression of wind abraded topography. Rocks were reddish, overlain by smears of bright yellow. Lot of trouble placing all that flowers of sulfur, but we postulated a liquid sulfur-sulfur dioxide carbon dioxide cycle. Overhead a diffused intense yellow light. The sun, we were on the daylight side. I sighed, relaxed, knowing this one had worked out. We gave the moon little time. For those who had become homesick, Earth was hanging magnificently in the sky. At a crater wall, we stopped ostensibly to let souvenir hunters pick at small pieces of lunar rock without leaving the cart. We'd argued hours on what type to use till Mel dragged out his rock book. Most automatically had one at basalt. However, the moon's density being low, heavier rocks are probably scarce. One good reason not to expect radioactive ores there. We finally settled for rhyolite and obsidian. Stopping on the moon had another purpose. We kept the room temperature at 70°F for heating and cooling economy. The transition from Venus to Mars was much simpler if ambient temperature dropped from 140° to 70° and from 70° to 0° rather than straight through the range. Next, a Martian polar cap and we looked down a long canal that disappeared on the horizon. Water appeared to run uphill for that effect. The whole scene looked like an Arizona highway at dusk, what it should have. To our right, a suggestion of, damn, the opposition's eyes, culture, a large stone watsit that was a jarring note. We selected one of those nondescript asteroids with just enough diameter to show extreme curvature. Frank had done magnificently. I found myself hanging onto the cart. Headlights deliberately dimmed on the rocky surface the cart bumped wildly. The sky was black, broken only by little hard chunks of light, no horizon. The feeling of being ready to drop was intense, possibly too much cell. Europa then, in a valley of ice, we'd picked Jupiter's third moon because its frozen atmosphere permitted some eerie pseudo-ice sculpturing. As we moved, Jupiter appeared between breaks and peaks in the sheer wall. Worked nicely, seeing the monstrous planet distended overhead like a gaily colored beach ball moving with us as the moon from a train window. Unfortunately, the ice forms detracted somewhat. Mimas, pitch black, then a glow. Stark landscape, quickly becoming visible, steep cliffs, rocky plain, Saturn rising, the rings, their shadow on the globe, the beauty of it made me sit stunned, though what to expect. The guide warned us radar spotted an approaching object, probably a meteor. We ran the cart at maximum speed. Not much, really. It tore at you, wanting to stare at Saturn, wanting to duck. Hit the special section, dropped and rose our three inches one hell of a distance and the tour was over. I kept thinking insanely that the meteor was a perfect conflict touch. We unsuited silently. Finally Hazel breathed, hallelujah. It was the summation of success. There now remained but one thing, wait for the quarry to show. I estimated the necessary time at four days and nights after opening. It was hard to wait. Hard not to fidget under the watchful, the only word, eyes of the GG. They were up to something, sadly, but there was something far more important. I'd narrowed the two billion four hundred ninety-nine million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine down to five. The one I saw was a member of the GG. Opening night brought Harry and Frank to my office. They tried to be casual, engaged me in desultory nothings. Frank looked reproachful. He was there too late. The following night, Mel ambled in at midnight. He grinned, discussed the plot, suggested we go out for a beer, changed his mind, left. The third night, I waited in the dark. Nor was I disappointed. Dex and Hazel showed. What do you want? It's 2 a.m. There was a long regrouping pause. Then Hazel said, Dex has a fine idea. Well, I've been thinking about gravity about time, I said sarcastically, disliking myself, but hoping it would get rid of them. We opened three days ago. He ignored my petulance and grinned. No, I meant anti-gravity. I think it's possible. If you had a superconductor in the inductance field, why tell me? Thought you'd have some ideas. I shook my head. That's what I hired you for. My only idea right now is going to sleep. Bewildered, they left. And on the fourth night, no one came. So I headed for the tour. Now, having risked everything on my logic, I was a dead pigeon if wrong. Only minutes left. I eased through the back door, heard our automation equipment humming. Despite darkness, I shortcut it, nearly reaching the door to the service hallway in back of the planetary rooms. There was a distinct click, and a flashlight blinded me. I waited, stifling a cry, knowing if it were he death was next. Death never spoke in such tones. Frank asked, what are you doing here? Frank, Frank, not you. Surprise shocked me. The light, her voice, the sudden suspicion, still diversion and counterattack, perhaps you'd be explaining to do, I said nastily. Why are you here? Her wide-eyed ingenuousness, making me more suspicious, she answered. Waiting to see if you'd appear, then she stopped being truthful. You forget, we had a date. We didn't have any damn date. I said flatly, hurting deep within. Alright, I want to know why you're still driving yourself. It isn't work, that's finished. The way she talked made me hopeful. Maybe she wasn't the one, and then came fear. Frank, if he's here, you're in danger. The monster respects nothing we hold dear. Law, property, dignity, light. There was one way to find out. Make her leave. I wrenched the flashlight from her, smashed it on the concrete floor. I mean this, get the hell out of here and stay out. She said this tastefully. I've seen it happen, but never this fast. You've gone Hollywood. You're a genius. You're tremendous. Forgetting other people who helped. Go ahead with your mysterious deal, and I hope we never meet again. I struggled with ambivalence. This might be a trick. If not, Frank now hated me irreparably. No time to worry about human emotions. Not anymore. Nausea reminded me of the primary purpose. I continued down the dark hallway, listening for Frank's return, hoping she'd needn't die. Light was unnecessary. I knew the right door. Because it started here, it would end here. Quickly, silently, I slipped inside the Venus Room. With peculiar relief, I realized Frank wasn't it. My nose led me right to the monster. In an ecstatic, semi-stuporous state smelling strongly of sulfur dioxide, he couldn't have been aware of me. Couldn't? It took you long enough. He didn't bother to turn from the rock he was huddled against. I had to be sure. I felt anything but the calm carried in my voice. No wonder the GG got the right answers, with you making initial starts. Say, were you responsible for the cat that rolled at me? An accident. Obviously, I wanted this room built as much as you. Harry, now undisguised, languorously turned. Your little trap didn't quite come up, a danger in fighting a superior intellect. No trap. I had a job to do. It's done. Job? Job? Infuriated, leaping to his feet, he shouted. A native tongue, filth. What's the use? Because of you, I'll never again have the chance. And you, no longer have a native tongue. Who were those judges, he asked bitterly, to declare me an outcast? Representatives of an outraged society I almost lost my temper thinking of this deviant's crimes. You were lucky to get banishment instead of death. He grinned. So were you. True, I tried to find the proper place where you'd have some chance. He laughed openly. I fixed the ship nicely. You don't understand at all. I counted on your being a hero, trying to save us, so I escaped. For three years only? What do you mean? One of us won't leave here. Harry frowned. Then tried cunning. Aren't you being silly? We are hopelessly maroon. Surely there are overriding considerations to your childish devotion to duty. I shook my head. This is too small a room for us. Even if I trusted you, I couldn't allow you at this naive young world. Voices suddenly approached. The GG, Harry questioned. Didn't know they were coming. Desperately I looked about. Found an eroded mass. Hide there. I'll get rid of them. You'd better. We have business. Possibly it was the only time I've agreed with them. Mel and Dex came in. I called. Over here. Dex snapped his fingers. Knew it was Venus. Mel wrinkled his nose. Sulfur dioxide, too. Like we figured. So to pop. When I broke into that tender scene between you and Frank, I gave you necessary carbon dioxide. Right. Am I not? Yes. Why don't you guys leave me alone? Beginning to falter in the heat, they drip perspiration. You could die in this chilly climate. Dex said, listen for a second. We don't have to break up. Let's form a service organization. Problems Inc. Or some equally stupid title. Very soon we could afford a private bedroom like this for you to stay in all the time. Need only two or three nights and ten. Harry was moving restlessly. He couldn't wait much longer. Combination of oxygen, carbon dioxide and sulfur under relatively high temperature is how I eat. Pills can substitute or not for protracted couriers. That's why I had to build this room. Couple of weeks and I'll be in the pink. As pink as you, anyway. Abruptly I lay down ignoring them. I had to make my friends go. Harry could literally have shredded them. Footsteps, the door closed. Relief and loneliness joined me, but only for a moment. His voice sliced the darkness. I'm a man of honor. I must warn you, if we fight you'll lose. I escaped with far more pills than you. You're weaker. I said sardonically with you stealing parts of my supply that's probably the only truthful thing you've said. I've been in here three nights adjusting my metabolism. He came at me then not breaking his flow of speech. At home I'd have been surprised at the dishonor. Instead I was expecting it. He ran into my bald fist. If we'd been home if, if, if, if at full strength I could have broken his neck with a blow now we simply rolled back and fell laughing. He attacked again. We were weak as babes and fought like it. Clumsily, slowly, we went through the motions. He'd been right. He was a little stronger and the relative difference began to tell. Soon I was falling from his blows. Hands on my neck he'd knead me hard in the stomach violently ill. I felt all for dioxide rush from my lungs. I remembered one trick they taught at school and I used it. Unable to break his hold I managed to get my hands around his throat. We locked. Each silent. Silently until I felt my last reserves going until the crooning of the song of eternity began this couldn't happen not to this planet. With all my strength I gave one last squeeze but it failed. From somewhere light years of light years away I heard Frank realize I'd played fool. She'd been working for the monster a blinding flash inside my head and the last darkness descended. The light hadn't been inside my head it flooded the room. Dimly I was aware of the injection and immediately felt better. Harry was gone. The GG minus one was gathered around Mel said it was a dilute solution of cerium nitrate we figured the percentage on the basis of the pill Frank swiped. Hope you aren't poisoned. No my voice was weak needed oxidizing agent for the sulfur Harry's dead hazel frown when we came in you'd broken his neck for crooning to yourself so I had been crooning the song of eternity I'm a I felt silly a cop on a mission I waited until whichever of you it was settled down here that one had to be the criminal to be done away with Dex and I got rid of the body Mel said no need to worry unless you've read my stories perhaps you are the criminal I'll be watching no proof of course do you believe on the criminal Mel smiled no but I'll watch anyway more closely than the night I hope Hazel said acidly if it hadn't been for her I saw Frank and was ashamed of my suspicions she was silent looking concerned they all did and I was warmed because despite discomfort they worried about me an alien a stranger better leave eats getting you Dex asked when are you going back I shrugged never the ship is in the Gulf of California Harry did that what about our company we can research anti-gravity you might reach home yet I shook my head said I was a policeman I don't know very much perfectly normal Mel said before Hazel shushed him Dex was insistent any cop knows at least something about his motorcycle was I right about the superconductor yes now get out of here idiots before there's no one left to form the company Hazel was firing freely red hair shimmering kissed me we figured you out real real early we aren't ever wrong and I'm glad we stayed with you Mr. Venus she laughed joyously first time I've ever kissed a Venusian Frank head close to my and said softly I'm terribly sorry I said those things but you had to believe I was angry so I could call the others and I did everything possible to get you out we were silent then I said what I've been fighting not to for so long Frank Francis she understood and stared horrified at me I'd lost bowed my head feeling like the damn fool I was she looked around the room it's so strange and with ingrained racial conditioning you couldn't respond to a thin sallow alien I don't know she said hesitantly I do Mel said the old story in science fiction it's true I can't write it why not no editor in right or wrong mind would buy the beautiful earth damsel after whom lusts the monster from Venus Frank snapped it wasn't a monster and his manners are better than many writers I could name her voice trailed off with awareness of Mel's tiny smile a smile that widened he pulled her toward the door what a story will hold the wedding in a Turkish bath alone I sighed comfortable again after three years I was grateful to the GG and would do anything within limits for them because the planet needed protection babes in the woods they'd be torn to pieces outside fortunately the GG didn't know my meaning of policeman my home's highest order of intellect I'd assure the group finally getting anti-gravity and use of planetary lines of force but not the hyperspace drive not for a good long while I certainly couldn't destroy the GG's confidence I couldn't hurt them they were so sure about me so sure they were never wrong how could I explain I'd been looking for a decent habitable planet like Venus to discharge my captive that I was from another galaxy end of question of comfort by less comments recording by Tom White