A Spaceship Named: 45 Sci-Fi Novels & Stories in One Volume. Randall Garrett

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СКАЧАТЬ Malone," Dr. O'Connor said with a motion of his eyebrows. "As I'm sure you must understand."

      "Oh," Malone said, feeling as if he'd been caught without his homework, "of course. But if you don't mind—"

      "Yes, Mr. Malone?" Dr. O'Connor said smoothly.

      "What I want to know," Malone said, "is this: what are the limitations of this ... uh ... phenomenon?"

      Dr. O'Connor brightened visibly. "The limitations are several," he said. "In the first place, there is the force represented by f in the equation. This seems to be entirely dependent on the ... ah ... strength of the subject's personality. That is if we assume that the process is at all parallel with the phenomena of psychokinesis and levitation. And there are excellent theoretical reasons for so believing."

      "In other words," Malone said, "a man with a strong will would be able to exert more force than a weaker-willed man?"

      "Correct," Dr. O'Connor said. "And another factor is the time, t. What we are measuring here is the span of attention of the individual—the ability of the subject's mind to concentrate on a given thing for a span of time. Many people, for example, cannot keep their attention focused on a single thought for more than a few milliseconds, it seems. They are ... ah ... 'scatter-brained,' as the saying is."

      His expression left no doubt that he included Malone in that group. Malone tried not to look nervous.

      Then Dr. O'Connor scowled. "There is another factor which we feel should be in the equation," he said, "but we have not yet found a precise way to express it mathematically. You must realize that the mathematical treatment of psionics is, as yet, in a relatively primitive stage."

      "Oh," Malone said. "Of course. Sure. But this other factor—"

      "It is what might be called the ... ah ... volume of attention," Dr. O'Connor said. "That is, the actual amount of space that can be conceived of and held by the subject, during the time he is concentrating."

      Malone blinked.

      "For most people," Dr. O'Connor said, "the awareness of the space surrounding them is limited to a few inches of moving space, no more. To put this in a purely physical matrix: one might say that the 'teleportation field' doesn't extend more than a few inches beyond the skin of the subject. Thus, it would be difficult to teleport anything really large unless one were able to increase the volume of attention, or awareness. However, it is difficult to express this notion mathematically."

      "I'll bet," Malone said.

      Dr. O'Connor shot him a frozen glance. "One of our early attempts," he said, "was simply to put this in as a volume factor, so that the left-hand side of the equation, below the line, would read—" He scribbled again on the paper and held it up:

md	=	K
d3ft2

      "Unfortunately, as you can perhaps see," Dr. O'Connor said, "the equation would not stand up under dimensional analysis."

      "Oh, sure," Malone said, adding sympathetically: "That's too bad. But does that put a limit on how much a man could carry with him? I mean, he couldn't take a whole building along, or anything like that, could he?"

      "I doubt it," Dr. O'Connor said gravely. "That would require a tremendous volume of space for one to focus his entire attention on, as a whole, for any useful length of time. It would require a type of mind that I am not even sure exists."

      "In the case of a young, inexperienced boy," Malone said stubbornly, "would you say that he could carry off anything heavy?"

      "Of course not," Dr. O'Connor said. "Nor, as a matter of fact, could he carry off anything that was securely bolted down; I hope you follow me?"

      "I think so," Malone said. "But look here: suppose you handcuffed him to, say, a radiator or a jail cell bar."

      "Yes?"

      "Could he get away?"

      Dr. O'Connor appeared to consider this with some care. "Well," he said at last, "he certainly couldn't take the radiator with him, or the cell bar. If that's what you mean." He hesitated, looked slightly shamefaced, and then went on: "But you must realize that we lack any really extensive data on this phenomenon."

      "Of course," Malone said.

      "That's why I'm so very anxious to get those subjects," Dr. O'Connor said.

      "Dr. O'Connor," Malone said earnestly, "that's just what I had in mind from the start. I've been going to a lot of extra trouble to make sure that those kids don't get killed or end up in reform schools or something, just so you could work with them."

      "I appreciate that, Mr. Malone," O'Connor said gravely.

      Malone felt as if someone had given him a gold star. Fighting down the emotion, he went on: "I know right now that I can catch one or two of them. But I don't know for sure that I can hold one for more than a fraction of a second."

      "I see your problem," Dr. O'Connor said. "Believe me, Mr. Malone. I do see your problem."

      "And is there a way out?" Malone said. "I mean a way I can hold on to them for—"

      "At present," Dr. O'Connor said heavily, "I have no suggestions. I lack data."

      "Oh, fine," Malone said. "We need the kids to get the data, and we need the data to get the kids." He sighed. "Hooray for our side," he added.

      "There does appear to be something of a dilemma here," Dr. O'Connor admitted sadly.

      "Dilemma is putting it mildly," Malone said.

      Dr. O'Connor opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again and said: "I agree."

      "Well," Malone said, "maybe one of us will think of something. If anything does occur to you, let me know at once."

      "I certainly will," Dr. O'Connor said. "Believe me, Mr. Malone, I want you to capture those—kids—just as badly as you want to capture them yourself."

      "I'll try," Malone said at random. He flipped off and turned with a sense of relief back to Boyd. But it looked as if Henry VIII had been hit on the head with a cow, or something equally weighty. Boyd looked glassy-eyed and slightly stunned.

      "What's the matter with you?" Malone said. "Sick?"

      "I'm not sick," Boyd said carefully. "At least I don't think I'm sick. It's hard to tell."

      "What's wrong?"

      "Teleporting?" Boyd said. "Juvenile delinquents?"

      Malone felt a sudden twinge in the area of his conscience. He realized that he had told Boyd nothing at all about what had been going on since the discovery of the notebook two nights ago. He filled his partner in rapidly while Boyd stood in front of the mirror and rather shakily attempted to trim his beard.

      "That's why I had the car search continue," Malone said. "I was fairly sure the fault wasn't in the cars, but the boys. But I had to make absolutely sure."

      Boyd said: "Oh," chopped a small СКАЧАТЬ