council meets; when I scratch my right ear, Councilman Nelson votes “yes”; if I
scratch my left ear, she votes “no”-usually.
Marry her? Me? Tom married her. They’re building a house, one bedroom and
two bathrooms. When they can get the fixtures, that is.
FOREWORD
When the USSR refused our proposals for controlling the A-bomb, I swore off
“World-Saving.” No more preaching. No more attempts to explain the mortal peril we
were in. No, sir!
A year and a half later, late ’47, I backslid. If it could not be done by
straightforward exposition, perhaps it could be dramatized as fiction.
Again I fell flat on my face.
Fifteen years later there was a tremendous flap over Soviet medium-range
missiles in Cuba. Then they were removed-or so we were told-and the flap died out.
Why? Why both ways? For years we have had Soviet submarines on both coasts; are they
armed with slingshots? Or powder puffs?
This story is more timely today, over thirty years later, than it was when
it was written; the danger is enormously greater.
And again this warning will be ignored. But it won’t take much of your time;
it’s a short-short, a mere 2200 words.
Page 112
ON THE SLOPES OF VESUVIUS
“Paddy, shake hands with the guy who built the atom bomb,” Professor Warner
said to the bartender. “He and Einstein rigged it up in their own kitchen one
evening.”
“With the help of about four hundred other guys,” amended the stranger,
raising his voice slightly to cut through the rumble of the subway.
“Don’t quibble over details. Paddy, this is Doctor Mansfield. Jerry, meet
Paddy- Say, Paddy, what is your last name?”
“Francis X. Hughes,” answered the barkeep as he wiped his hand and stuck it
out. “I’m pleased to meet any friend of Professor Warner.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Hughes.”
“Call me Paddy, they all do. You really are one of the scientists who built
the atom bomb?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“May the Lord forgive you. Are you at N.Y.U., too?”
“No, I’m out at the new Brookhaven Laboratory.”
“Oh, yes.”
“You’ve been there?”
Hughes shook his head. “About the only place I go is home to Brooklyn. But I
read the papers.”
“Paddy’s in a well-padded rut,” explained Warner. “Paddy, what are you going
to do when they blow up New York? It’ll break up your routine.”
He set their drinks before them and poured himself
a short beer. “If that’s all I’ve got to worry about I guess I’ll die of old age and
still in Thy rut, Professor.”
Warner’s face lost its cheerful expression for a moment; he stared at his
drink as if it had suddenly become bitter. “I wish I had your optimism, Paddy, but I
haven’t. Sooner or later, we’re in for it.”
“You shouldn’t joke about such things, Professor.”
“I’m not joking.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I wish I weren’t. Ask him. After all, he built the damned thing.”
Hughes raised his brows at Mansfield who replied, “I’m forced to agree with
Professor Warner. They will be able to do it-atom-bomb New York I mean. I know that;
it’s not a guess-it’s a certainty. Being able to do it, I’m strongly of the opinion
that they will do it.”
“Who do you mean by ‘they’?” demanded the bartender. “The Russians?”
“Not necessarily. It might be anybody who first worked up the power to smash
us.”
“Sure,” said Warner. “Everybody wants to kick the fat boy. We’re envied and
hated. The only reason we haven’t been smeared is that no one has had what it takes
to do it-up to now, that is!”
“Just a minute, gentlemen-” put in Hughes. “I don’t get it. You’re talking
about somebody-anybody-atom-bombing New York. How can they do it? Didn’t we decide
to hang on to the secret? Do you think some dirty spy has gotten away with it while
we weren’t watching?”
Mansfield looked at Warner, then back at Hughes and said gently, “I hate to
disturb your peace of mind, Mr. Hughes-Paddy-but there is no secret. Any nation that
is willing to go to the trouble and expense can build an atom bomb.”
“And that’s official,” added Warner, “and it’s a leadpipe cinch that, power