[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astonishing Stories, June 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I had to admire this little guy's courage. Fradin, his name was—JamesArthur Fradin, with a string of letters after it that even thealphabet agencies down at Washington could not have unscrambled. Theletters represented honorary degrees conferred on him by half a dozendifferent colleges, and they should have entitled him to be heard withrespectful consideration, but they weren't. The assembled scientists ofthe Institute of Radio Engineers were giving him merry hell.
"What you are saying, Fradin," one of the scientists interrupted hotly,"is gross nonsense."
"It is absolutely impossible," another shouted.
"Faker!" somebody yelled, and a dozen voices took it up until the roomechoed with the sound.
I sat back and grinned to myself. If this meeting ended in afree-for-all fight, which was what looked like was due to happen, Iwould be able to make a swell human interest humorous yarn out of it.My editor went for human interest stuff, which was largely why he hadsent me down to cover this meeting. He knew I wasn't likely to developany front page news here, scientific meetings being what they are. Butthere might be a human interest angle that would be good for a laugh.And the way these solemn scientists were calling Fradin a liar, itlooked like the laugh was coming.
There was one man who wasn't doing any name calling, I noticed, a tall,cadaverous-looking individual sitting two seats down from me. He hadlistened very carefully, almost eagerly, I thought, to everything thespeaker had said. Glancing at him, I got the impression that I shouldknow him, but at the moment I couldn't place him. Tall, bony face,thin, hawk nose—yes, it seemed I should know him.
Fradin had stopped speaking when the storm of abuse broke over him. Hestood there on the platform, a little, white haired guy with a gentleface.
"If you numbskulls will only be quiet for a moment," he said, when thenoise had subsided for an instant, "I will offer incontrovertible proofto support my statement that radio waves are transmitted through whatI must, for lack of a better term to describe the undescribable, callthe fourth dimension."
What I mean, the roof must have been nailed down tight, or theexplosion that followed would certainly have lifted it off thebuilding. You never did see so many excited scientists in one group.Normally a scientist is supposed to be cool, aloof, and impersonal.But this group was anything else! They went right straight up in theair. I couldn't tell whether they were angrier because he had calledthem a bunch of numbskulls or because he had said that radio waves weretransmitted through the fourth dimension.
One of them leaped to his feet. Ramsen, I think his name was. He was abig shot in the field, almost as big as De Forest and Marconi.
"Fradin," he yelled, "that is the most preposterous statement I everheard from the lips of any man in his right senses. It raises theimmediate question of whether or not you are in your right senses."
There was a buzz of approval following his statement. Fradin waited forit to die down.
"Mr. Ramsen," he said, "you have chosen to challenge my theory.Perhaps you can tell me what medium does carry the electro-magneticradiations that we call radio waves?"
"Certainly," Ramsen answered. "Any schoolboy knows that."
"We are not here concerned with the knowledge of schoolboys," Fradingently replied. "Sound is carried in air and