The Worlds of Robert A. Heinlein

“Betsy?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Be ready to tell us again.”

“Now!” She added, “That’s a bullfrog G, three octaves down.”

“This note?”

“That’s right.”

“Get that on the grid and tell the General to get his ships up! That cuts

it to a square ten miles on a side! Now, Betsy — we know almost where you

are. We are going to focus still closer. Want to go inside and cool off?”

“I’m not too hot. Just sweaty.”

Forty minutes later the General’s voice rang out: “They’ve spotted the

ship! They see her waving!”

LIFE-LINE

THE CHAIRMAN rapped loudly for order. Gradually the cat-calls and boos died

away as several self-appointed sergeant-at-arms persuaded a few hot-headed

individuals to sit down. The speaker on the rostrum by the chairman seemed

unaware of the disturbance. His bland, faintly insolent face was impassive.

The chairman turned to the speaker and addressed him in a voice in which

anger and annoyance were barely restrained.

“Dr. Pinero” — the “Doctor” was faintly stressed — “I must apologize to you

for the unseemly outburst during your remarks. I am surprised that my

colleagues should so far forget the dignity proper to men of science as to

interrupt a speaker, no matter” — he paused and set his mouth — “no matter

how great the provocation.” Pinero smiled in his face, a smile that was in

some way an open insult. The chairman visibly controlled his temper and

continued: “I am anxious that the program be concluded decently and in

order. I want you to finish your remarks. Nevertheless, I must ask you to

refrain from affronting our intelligence with ideas that any educated man

knows to be fallacious. Please confine yourself to your discovery — if you

have made one.”

Pinero spread his fat, white hands, palms down. “How can I possibly put a

new idea into your heads, if I do not first remove your delusions?”

The audience stirred and muttered. Someone shouted from the rear of the

hall: “Throw the charlatan out! We’ve had enough.”

The chairman pounded his gavel.

“Gentlemen! Please!”

Then to Pinero, “Must I remind you that you are not a member of this body,

and that we did not invite you?”

Pinero’s eyebrows lifted. “So? I seem to remember an invitation on the

letterhead of the Academy.”

The chairman chewed his lower lip before replying. “True. I wrote that

invitation myself. But it was at the request of one of the trustees — a

fine, public-spirited gentleman, but not a scientist, not a member of the

Academy.”

Pinero smiled his irritating smile. “So? I should have guessed. Old

Bidwell, not so, of Amalgamated Life Insurance? And he wanted his trained

seals to expose me as a fraud, yes? For if I can tell a man the day of his

own death, no one will buy his pretty policies. But how can you expose me,

if you will not listen to me first? Even supposing you had the wit to

understand me? Bah! He has sent jackals to tear down a lion.” He

deliberately turned his back on them.

The muttering of the crowd swelled and took on a vicious tone. The chairman

cried vainly for order. There arose a figure in the front row.

“Mr. Chairman!”

The chairman grasped the opening and shouted: “Gentlemen! Dr. van Rhein

Smitt has the floor.” The commotion died away.

The doctor cleared his throat, smoothed the forelock of his beautiful white

hair, and thrust one hand into a side pocket, of his smartly tailored

trousers. He assumed his women’s-club manner.

“Mr. Chairman, fellow members of the Academy of Science, let us have

tolerance. Even a murderer has the right to say his say before the State

exacts its tribute. Shall we do less? Even though one may be intellectually

certain of the verdict? I grant Dr. Pinero every consideration that should

be given by this august body to any unaffiliated colleague, even though” —

he bowed slightly in Pinero’s direction — “we may not be familiar with the

university which bestowed his degree. If what he has to say is false, it

cannot harm us. If what he has to say is true, we should know it.” His

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