waste time on voodoo tricks? It is my belief that this person who calls
himself Dr. Pinero wants to use this body to give his statements authority.
If we participate in this farce, we play into his hands. I don’t know what
his racket is, but you can bet that he has figured out some way to use us
for advertising his schemes. I move, Mr. Chairman, that we proceed with our
regular business.”
The motion carried by acclamation, but Pinero did not sit down. Amidst
cries of “Order! Order!” he shook his untidy head at them, and had his say.
“Barbarians! Imbeciles! Stupid dolts! Your kind have blocked the
recognition of every great discovery since time began. Such ignorant
canaille are enough to start Galileo spinning in his grave. That fat fool
down there twiddling his elk’s tooth calls himself a medical man. Witch
doctor would be a better term! That little bald-headed runt over there —
You! You style yourself a philosopher, and prate about life and time in
your neat categories. What do you know of either one? How can you ever
learn when you won’t examine the truth when you have a chance? Bah!” He
spat upon the stage. “You call this an Academy of Science. I call it an
undertakers’ convention, interested only in embalming the ideas of your
red-blooded predecessors
He paused for breath and was grasped on each side by two members of the
platform committee and rushed out the wings. Several reporters arose
hastily from the press table and followed him. The chairman declared the
meeting adjourned.
The newspapermen caught up with Pinero as he was going out by the stage
door. He walked with a light, springy step, and whistled a little tune.
There was no trace of the belligerence he had shown a moment before. They
crowded about him. “How about an interview, doc?” “What d’yuh think of
modern education?” “You certainly told ’em. What are your views on life
after death?” “Take off your hat, doc, and look at the birdie.”
He grinned at them all. “One at a time, boys, and not so fast. I used to be
a newspaperman myself. How about coming up to my place?”
A few minutes later they were trying to find places to sit down in Pinero’s
messy bed-living room, and lighting his cigars. Pinero looked around and
beamed. “What’ll it be, boys? Scotch or Bourbon?” When that was taken care
of he got down to business. “Now boys, what do you want to know?”
“Lay it on the line, doc. Have you got something, or haven’t you?”
“Most assuredly I have something, my young friend.”
“Then tell us how it works. That guff you handed the profs won’t get you
anywhere now.”
“Please, my dear fellow. It is my invention. I expect to make some money
with it. Would you have me give it away to the first person who asks for
it?”
“See here, doc, you’ve got to give us something if you expect to get a
break in the morning papers. What do you use? A crystal ball?”
“No, not quite. Would you like to see my apparatus?”
“Sure. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
He ushered them into an adjoining room, and waved his hand. “There it is,
boys.” The mass equipment that met their eyes vaguely resembled a medico’s
office X-ray gear. Beyond the obvious fact that it used electrical power,
and that some of the dials were calibrated in familiar terms, a casual
inspection gave no clue to its actual use.
“What’s the principle, doc?”
Pinero pursed his lips and considered. “No doubt you are all familiar with
the truism that life is electrical in nature. Well, that truism isn’t worth
a damn, but it will help to give you an idea of the principle. You have
also been told that time is a fourth dimension. Maybe you believe it,
perhaps not. It has been said so many times that it has ceased to have any
meaning. It is simply a cliche that wind bags use to impress fools. But I
want you to try to visualize it now, and try to feel it emotionally.”
He stepped up to one of the reporters. “Suppose we take you as an example.