Isaac Asimov - Asimov's Mysteries

'I'm the one people will remember. ' I 'm the one who gets the credit. He can keep his damned title and his

Prizes and his kudos from the scholars. Listen, I'll tell you what gripes him. Plain old-fashioned jealousy.

It kills him that I get what I get for doing. He wants it for thinking. 'I said to him once-we play billiards together, you know--'

It was at this point that I quoted Priss's statement about billiards and got Bloom's counterstatement. I never published either. That was just trivia.

'We play billiards,' said Bloom, when he had cooled down, 'and I've won my share of games. We keep things friendly enough. What the hell-college chums and all that -though how he got through, I'll never know. He made it in physics, of course, and in math, but he got a bare pass- out of pity, I think-in every humanities course he ever took.'

'You did not get your degree, did you, Mr. Bloom?' That was sheer mischief on my part. I was enjoying his eruption.

'I quit to go into business, damn it. My academic average, over the three years I attended, was a strong B. Don't imagine anything else, you hear? Hell, by the time Priss got his Ph.D., I was working on my second million.'

He went on, clearly irritated. 'Anyway, we were playing billiards and I said to him. "Jim, the average man will never understand why you get the Nobel Prize when I'm the one who gets the results. Why do you need two? Give me one!" He stood there, chalking up his cue, and then he said in his soft namby-pamby way, "You have two billions, Ed. Give me one." So you see, he wants the money.'

I said, 'I take it you don't mind his getting the honor?'

For a minute I thought he was going to order me out, but he didn't. He laughed instead, waved his hand in front of him, as though he were erasing something from an invisible blackboard in front of him. He said,

'Oh, well, forget it. All that is off the record. Listen, do you want a statement? Okay. Things didn't go right today and I blew my top a bit, but it will clear up. I think I know what's wrong. And if I don't, I'm going to know.

'Look, you can say that I say that we don't need infinite electromagnetic intensity; we will flatten out the rubber sheet; we will have zero gravity. And when we get it, I'll have the damndest demonstration you ever saw, exclusively for the press and for Priss, and you'll be invited. And you can say it won't be long.

Okay?' Okay!

I had time after that to see each man once or twice more. I even saw them together when I was present at one of their billiard games. As I said before, both of them were good. But the call to the demonstration did not come as quickly as all that. It arrived six weeks less than a year after Bloom gave me his statement. And at that, perhaps it was unfair to expect quicker work.

I had a special engraved invitation, with the assurance of a cocktail hour first. Bloom never did things by halves and he was planning to have a pleased and satisfied group of reporters on hand. There was an arrangement for trimensional TV, too. Bloom felt completely confident, obviously; confident enough to be willing to trust the demonstration in every living room on the planet.

I called up Professor Priss, to make sure he was invited too. He was.

'Do you plan to attend, sir?'

There was a pause and the professor's face on the screen was a study in uncertain reluctance. 'A demonstration of this sort is most unsuitable where a serious scientific matter is in question. I do not like to encourage such things.'

I was afraid he would beg off, and the dramatics of the situation would be greatly lessened if he were not there. But then, perhaps, he decided he dared not play the chicken before the world. With obvious distaste he said, 'Of course, Ed Bloom is not really a scientist and he must have his day in the sun. I'll be there.'

'Do you think Mr. Bloom can produce zero gravity, sir?'

'Uh… Mr. Bloom sent me a copy of the design of his device and… and I'm not certain. Perhaps he can do it, if… uh… he says he can do it. Of course'-he paused again for quite a long time-'I think I would like to see it.'

So would I, and so would many others.

The staging was impeccable. A whole floor of the main building at Bloom Enterprises-the one on the hilltop-was cleared. There were the promised cocktails and a splendid array of hors d'oeuvres, soft music and lighting, and a carefully dressed and thoroughly jovial Edward Bloom playing the perfect host, while a number of polite and unobtrusive menials fetched and carried. All was geniality and amazing confidence.

James Priss was late and I caught Bloom watching the corners of the crowd and beginning to grow a little grim about the edges. Then Priss arrived, dragging a volume of colorlessness in with him, a drabness that was unaffected by the noise and the absolute splendor (no other word would describe it-or else it was the two martinis glowing inside me) that filled the room.

Bloom saw him and his face was illuminated at once. He bounced across the floor, seized the smaller man's hand and dragged him to the bar.

'Jim! Glad to see you! What'll you have? Hell, man, I'd have called it off if you hadn't showed. Can't have this thing without the star, you know.' He wrung Priss's hand. 'It's your theory, you know. We poor mortals can't do a thing without you few, you damned few few, pointing the way.'

He was being ebullient, handing out the flattery, because he could afford to do so now. He was fattening

Priss for the kill.

Priss tried to refuse a drink, with some sort of mutter, but a glass was pressed into his hand and Bloom raised his voice to a bull roar.

'Gentlemen! A moment's quiet, please. To Professor Priss, the greatest mind since Einstein, two-time Noble Laureate, father of the Two-Field Theory, and inspirer of the demonstration we are about to see-even if he didn't think it would work, and had the guts to say so publicly.'

There was a distinct titter of laughter that quickly faded out and Priss looked as grim as his face could manage.

'But now that Professor Priss is here,' said Bloom, 'and we've had our toast, let's get on with it. Follow me, gentlemen!'

The demonstration was in a much more elaborate place than had housed the earlier one. This time it was on the top floor of the building. Different magnets were involved- smaller ones, by heaven-but as nearly as I could tell, the same M-E Balance was in place.

One thing was new, however, and it staggered everybody, drawing much more attention than anything else in the room. It was a billiard table, resting under one pole of the magnet. Beneath it was the companion pole. A round hole, about a foot across, was stamped out of the very tenter of the table and it was obvious that the zero-gravity field, if it was to be produced, would be produced through that hole in the center of the billiard table.

It was as though the whole demonstration had been designed, surrealist fashion, to point up the victory of Bloom over Priss. This was to be another version of their everlasting billiards competition and Bloom was going to win.

I don't know if the other newsmen took matters in that fashion, but I think Priss did. I turned to look at him and saw that he was still holding the drink that had been forced into his hand. He rarely drank, I knew, but now he lifted the glass to his lips and emptied it in two swallows. He stared at that billiard ball and I needed no gift of ESP to realize that he took it as a deliberate snap of fingers under his nose.

Bloom led us to the twenty seats that surrounded three sides of the table, leaving the fourth free as a working area. Priss was carefully escorted to the seat commanding the most convenient view. Priss glanced quickly at the trimensional cameras which were now working. I wondered if he were thinking of leaving but deciding that he couldn't in the full glare of the eyes of the world.