Sixth Column — Robert A. Heinlein — (1949)

The exposure killed them all, indiscriminately.”

“I’m delighted to get this report, Doctor,” Ardmore answered. “In the long run this one development may be of more importance to the human race than any military use we may make of it now. But how does it affect the matter of establishing the branch church in Denver?”

“Well, sir, perhaps it doesn’t. But I took the liberty of having Scheer modify one of the portable power units in order that healing might be conveniently carried on by any one of our agents even though equipped only with the staff. I thought you might prefer to wait until Scheer could add the same modification to the staffs designed to be used by Thomas and Howe.”

“I think you are right, if it does not take too long. May I see the modification?”

Scheer demonstrated the staff he had worked over. Superficially it looked no different from the others. A six-foot rod was surmounted by a capital in the form of an ornate cube about four inches through. The faces of the cube were colored to correspond with the sides of the great temple. The base of the cube and the staff itself were covered with intricate designs in golden scroll-work, formal arabesques, and delicate bas-relief — all of which effectively concealed the controls of the power unit and projector located in the cubical capital.

Scheer had not changed the superficial appearance of the staff; he had simply added an additional circuit internally to the power unit in the cube which constrained it to oscillate only outside the band of frequencies fatal to vertebrate life. This circuit controlled the action of the power unit and projector whenever a certain leaf in the decorative design of the staff was pressed.

Scheer and Graham had labored together to create the staff’s designing and redesigning to achieve an integrated whole in which mechanical action would be concealed in artistic camouflage. They made a good team.

As a matter of fact their talents were not too far apart; the artist is two-thirds artisan and the artisan has essentially the same creative urge as the artist.

“I would suggest,” added Brooks, when the new control had been explained and demonstrated, “that this new effect be attributed to Tamar, Lady of Mercy, and that her light be turned on when it is used.”

“That’s right. That’s the idea,” Ardmore approved. “Never use the staff for any purpose without turning on the color light associated with the particular god whose help you are supposed to be invoking. That’s an invariable rule. Let ’em break their hearts trying to figure out how a simple monochromatic light can perform miracles.”

“Why bother with the rigamarole?” inquired Calhoun. “The PanAsians can’t possibly detect the effects we use in any case.”

“There is a double reason, Colonel. By giving them a false lead to follow we hope to insure that they will bend their scientific efforts in the wrong direction. We can’t afford to underestimate their ability. But even more important is the psychological effect on nonscientific minds, both white and yellow. People think things are wonderful that look wonderful. The average American is completely unimpressed by scientific wonders; he expects them, takes them as a matter of course with an attitude of ‘So what? That’s what you guys are paid for.’

“But add a certain amount of flubdub and hokum and don’t label it ‘scientific’ and he will be impressed. It’s wonderful advertising.”

“Well,” said Calhoun, dismissing the matter, “no doubt you know best — you have evidently had a great deal of experience in fooling the public.

I’ve never turned my attention to such matters; my concern is with pure science. If you no longer need me here, Major, I have work to do.”

“Certainly, Colonel, certainly! Go right ahead, your work is of prime importance…

“Still,” he added meditatively, when Calhoun had gone, “I don’t see why mass psychology shouldn’t be a scientific field. If some of the scientists had taken the trouble to formulate some of the things that salesmen and politicians know already, we might never have gotten into the mess we’re in.”

“I think I can answer that,” Dr. Brooks said diffidently.

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