Prescription for Chaos (49 page)

The lighter popped out, and Cardan thoughtfully puffed his cigar alight. In his own car, he carried a compass and some other emergency supplies that he'd found useful on hunting trips. Unfortunately, this wasn't his own car, but an experimental car converted to steam propulsion by several enthusiasts among his men. Cardan had driven it home over the weekend to see how it worked, and had put in chains and a few tools, but nothing else. He glanced in the glove compartment, saw a collection of odd nuts, fittings, and lock washers, shut the compartment, and got out of the car.

Overhead, the sky was gray, but in one part of the sky, a relatively bright spot offered hope that the sun would come out. Cardan broke a thin straight stick off a fallen branch, lined up the oak and maple he'd used to fix the direction of the flash, and traced their direction on the muddy road. He glanced up the see the sun fade out, then start to rapidly grow brighter. He held the stick vertically, traced the direction of its momentary shadow, and held his watch so that the hour hand was lined up in the same direction, its point toward the place where the stick had stood to cast the shadow. Cardan considered his location within the time zone, decided he could neglect the difference between standard time and local sun time, and took half the angle between the hour hand and the numeral twelve on his watch as the direction of south. That meant the flash had taken place roughly to the northeast.

Cardan frowned and straightened up. If he was right, the flash had happened on or over a stretch of low-lying farmland about two miles to the right of the highway, on his way into town. He shifted his cigar as he mentally checked his calculations. Then he cleaned the worst of the mud off his shoes with the stick, and got back into the car. He released the parking brake, and changed stations on the radio as he guided the car around a slight curve. The radio switched from dance music to an announcer's voice:

". . . Widespread calls from rural families. No, folks, there has been no plane crash, to the best of our knowledge, and authorities contacted by this station assure us that the 'light in the sky' was just a momentary bright reflection of the sun on the snow. It's a dark day, and when the sun does come out, it can be unusually dazzling. Now, we have a popular ballad by . . ."

Cardan tried a variety of other stations, one after the other, found nothing about the flash, and switched back to the local station. He turned down the volume, and drove swiftly but carefully toward the highway.

He puffed his cigar alight once more as the car came down the last steep hill toward the highway. He judged the speed of the oncoming cars, swung out into the traffic, and settled down for the run to Milford, keeping to the right-hand lane so he could pull over to the side if he saw anything unusual near the site of the flash.

Soon the hum of the tires, and the soft
whoosh
of traffic passing to his left, formed a background to Cardan's thoughts, and for a moment the cars gliding smoothly by made him think of all the changes that had come about in the past fifty years. This in turn led him to wonder briefly about the coming fifty years. Then he puffed thoughtfully on his cigar, and he was thinking of that last meeting at the plant, and of what was waiting for him there today. As Donovan had remarked at the end of that last meeting, while squinting over Cardan's shoulder, "You know, Chief, if you rush too fast into untraveled country, you're likely to wind up all of a sudden at the bottom of a sinkhole, or inside a bear's den."

"Sure," said Cardan. "If your legs outrun your eyes and your mind, that may happen. But," he added, studying the layout of wires, resistors, condensers, and other circuit elements mounted on a board, "if you refuse to travel unfamiliar country, you aren't likely to find anything new."

"You won't be so likely to break a leg. Or to electrocute yourself, either."

Maclane, a sharp-featured, slender man sitting on the other side of the table, said, "Nobody is going to electrocute himself with this, Don. That's the whole business, right on that board."

"No power source?" said Donovan. He walked around the table, a tall, athletic, blond-haired man, and stood looking down at the circuit.

"Nothing but what you see," said Maclane.

Cardan said, "And you got the diagram for this by sending for a patent?"

Maclane shook his head. "I got the
idea
there. It struck me that if I made a change here and a change there, the circuit would look better. It would be . . . well, better balanced. So I made the changes. And there's the result."

"Let's see if I understand you," said Cardan. "You say that if you put your hands on these contacts, and adjust this variable condenser, you get a
sensation
?"

"Right. In the original, I understand it was a tactual sensation. With this adaptation, it's visual."

Donovan said roughly, "In my opinion, this sounds like a lot of bunk."

Maclane looked up sharply. "Why?"

"Because, with no power source, there's no current flow, and with no current flow, the circuit can't operate. Therefore, you can't feel anything, or have any other effect."

"There's no power source in a crystal radio set, either," said Maclane. "Are you going to say that there is, therefore, no current flow in the circuit, and therefore you can't hear anything, or have any other effect?"

"Well, that's different. The crystal set picks up man-made signals sent out to it on purpose."

"You think it won't pick up
natural
signals that aren't sent out to it on purpose? How about a flash of lightning? The crystal set has no optical components to pick up the flash. It has no megaphone device to magnify the sound of the thunder. Therefore, how could it possibly detect a flash of lightning? The idea is too ridiculous to consider, isn't it?"

Donovan frowned. "What you're saying is, we've got something new here, and we're in about the same position as the original experimenters with static electricity?"

"I touch those contacts, and I get a visual impression. That's all I say. But I
do
say that."

"How could you explain a thing like that?"

"Let's work the textbook out later," said Maclane. "Right now all I want anyone to do is to touch these contacts."

Cardan said, "Turn it over and let's see the other side."

Maclane picked up the board and held it up. There was nothing on the back but a faint smear of what looked like grease.

"All right," said Cardan, putting his cigar in a tray. "The worst we should get out of this is a jolt from a charged condenser."

"Let me do this first, Chief," said Donovan.

"Go ahead," said Cardan.

Donovan put his hands on the contacts. Maclane turned the variable condenser. Donovan said, "Heck, Mac, I don't get any effect at all. I might as well—" Abruptly he cut off, and frowned.

"Well?" said Maclane.

"Go back a little. Do that over again."

Maclane eased back on the variable condenser.

Donovan said sharply, "Hold it. Right around there. Stop. That's it."

"What is it?"

"I don't know." Donovan had his eyes shut tightly. "I don't know what it is. But I see
something
."

Maclane nodded. "In color?"

"No. There's no color. For that matter, there's no form." Donovan scowled. "I mean, the form doesn't—" His voice trailed off.

Maclane said, "It's not in focus?"

"I guess that's it. It's not in focus."

Cardan glanced at Maclane, then at Donovan. Donovan let go of the contacts, turned the condenser a trifle, took hold, and let go again. He shook his head, and glanced at Cardan. "It's a funny effect."

Cardan got up, slid the device over, and took hold. He had no more awareness of any unusual sensation from it than if he had just taken hold of a doorknob.

Maclane turned the knob of the variable condenser. Cardan, his eyes shut, suddenly seemed to be looking at a light through a gray blanket. He raised his hands as if to brush away an obstruction. The sensation was gone instantly. He took hold of the contacts again and now there was nothing unusual.

"Go back," said Cardan. "Try that once more."

Abruptly he had the sensation again. He seemed to be looking through a gray blanket, or through an unfocused microscope in a bad light.

Cardan let go of the contacts and opened his eyes. "You've got something."

Maclane smiled. "Thanks."

Donovan said, "What are you going to do now, Mac?"

Maclane said, "I'm going to get a record of the temperature, humidity, weather conditions, and everything else I can think of. This may not work tomorrow."

Cardan puffed his cigar alight. "Suppose you were to replace a few more constants in that circuit with variables? Now here, for instance, you've got a resistor. Suppose you put in a rheostat? Why not use this circuit as a model, and build another like it with more variable circuit elements? It might not work, but then again—"

Maclane nodded. "It's worth a try, all right. I can do that over the weekend."

"Good idea."

The three men looked at each other.

"Well," said Maclane with a grin. "I have to get home on time for dinner tonight, or my wife will have a fit. But I don't think I'll be there a heck of a long time."

Now, as Cardan sped along the highway on Monday morning, he was wondering what Maclane had done over the weekend. Ahead, he saw he was coming to a spot on the highway about opposite the site of the flash. A quick glance showed him nothing unusual. Then he was swinging around a wide, well-banked curve to the left, and abruptly he slammed on the brakes.

Straight ahead was a massive pile-up of traffic. One State police car was pulled off on the shoulder of the road, and two more were parked on the partly snow-covered grassy strip in the center. A patrolman was on the road ahead of Cardan, waving the oncoming traffic across the grass and back into the southbound lanes on the other side. The stopped cars in the traffic jam ahead of Cardan were unlike cars he'd seen in traffic jams before; a great number of these cars had their hoods up. At some of the cars, the owners were bent down looking into the engine compartment. Other cars were apparently deserted, the owners trying for rides in the cars now being sent back toward the south.

Directly in front of Cardan, the State policeman thrust his right arm out to his side, gesturing urgently for Cardan to cross the mall and head back. Cardan obediently crossed the grass, then swung over onto the shoulder of the southbound side of the road, stopped, backed out of the stream of traffic crossing the grass, and swung the car around so it was headed north.

A shout, followed by the blast of a whistle, reached him, and he glanced around to see a police officer striding toward him angrily from the right. Cardan glanced at the other cars, all apparently stalled, thrust his cigar at a belligerent angle, set the brake, slid under the wheel and was out of the car on the right-hand side, pointing angrily at the stalled cars, before the policeman had time to reach him.

The officer was shouting and pointing at the southbound lanes. At the fender of a parked police car, several other patrolmen turned around, and looked on alertly.

Cardan ignored the others, and concentrated on the patrolman before him. Some switch in Cardan's brain seemed to mute the function of hearing, so that he was aware only of a generalized noise. With his mind concentrated on the other man's eyes, Cardan hurled words at him like a warship slamming rockets and shells at its target. As the police officer angrily gestured to the south, Cardan remorselessly pointed to the stalled cars. There was an interval like a combined earthquake and hurricane, and at the end of it Cardan was still pointing at the cars. The policeman, looking dazed, glanced over his shoulder for support. The other officers had moved off to help direct traffic.

"Now," Cardan demanded, "what is this? Why are these cars stuck? How long has this been going on? And wasn't there a bright flash about two miles to the northeast, in that direction?"

The policeman said uncertainly, "Are you investigating that?"

"That's right. I want to know if there's any connection between that flash and this tie-up. How long have these cars been here?"

"It started about fifteen minutes ago. One of our cars was in the middle of it and radioed the news. We were already on the way, so we managed to straighten things out and get traffic turned around and moving south."

"These cars with the hoods up are stalled?"

"That's right, sir. They're
all
stalled."

"What happened?"

"Their engines just sputtered and quit."

"They can't be started again?"

"No, sir. The starting motors will turn the engines over, but the engines won't fire."

"How about that flash? Wasn't that right over there?"

"I've heard about that, but I don't know anything about it. Anyway, that was before this happened."

"But it was near here?"

"Yes, it was. It was out on the flats there, somewhere. But I don't know where."

"What's at the north end of this jam? Are there police there, turning the southbound traffic around heading it back north?"

"Yes, sir. Just the same as we're doing here."

Cardan nodded. He looked at the stalled cars, glanced out over the low flat land to the right of the road, then looked back at his car.

The police officer said, "If I were you, sir, I'd investigate this on foot. If you go in there, you're likely to get stranded."

"The engine would sputter and then quit?"

"That's right. If you were going slowly enough, you could probably back up and get out. But if you roll too far, you're stuck, and we'd have to use a tow cable to get you out."

Cardan thought a moment, then said, "I'll go slowly. This car has an experimental engine, and it may be important to know if it can get through."

The patrolman's eyes widened.

Cardan got back into the car, leaving the door open. "You want to ride down with me?"

"I'd better stay here. Thanks, anyway."

"Thanks for your help."

"That's all right, sir. I hope you get through." The policeman shut the door, and Cardan drove the car slowly ahead. When he'd gone about a hundred feet, Cardan stopped and called back, "Am I in it, yet?"