But he'd come for a definite purpose. He licked his lips, waited a second, and said: "Professor, it's about my arms. What you said you could do." "Your arms?" The old man frowned. "Now? You've come to me ... Charley, my boy, tell me why. Tell me why you have changed your mind now." Charley nodded. "I ... I didn't start out here to ask you about my arms," he said. "But on the way I started putting things together. Professor, why do people come to side-shows?" The old man shrugged. "Entertainment," he said. "Sure, but there are all kinds of entertainment," Charley said. "Like strong men. There used to be a lot of strong men in carnivals, but there aren't any more. And now I know why. Ed Baylis started to tell me, but I ... well, never mind." "Charley," the old man said. "What do strong men have to do with--" "Let me tell you, professor," Charley said. "People don't care about strong men any more; there are too many gadgets around. Nobody has to be a strong man; nobody wants to watch one. They're useless. See?" "Everyone can be his own strong man," the old man said. "Right," Charley said. "The chain hoist--machines like that--they killed off the whole act. Years ago. And you've killed off the Armless Wonders and the Legless Wonders, professor. You've done it, all at once." Professor Lightning shook his head. "I don't see--" he began. "Anybody can grow new arms," Charley said. "So the man without arms--he's not an object of pity any more. He's just some guy who doesn't want to work. Nobody wants to go and see him; let him grow arms, if he doesn't want to be called a lazy bum. See?" There was a little silence. "I see," Professor Lightning said slowly. "Without pity, without a strong sense of identification, there is no audience." "For me there isn't," Charley said. "Or for anybody like me." Professor Lightning nodded. "Well," he said. "I hardly meant to ... well, Charley, you came for something else." His face seemed to lengthen. "And I must tell you ... Charley, I have been doing a lot of work. I am hardly a professional scientist; I have been away too long." "But--" "It is true," Professor Lightning said sadly. "Never mind; I've had my one discovery--how much an accident, no one may ever know. But I neglected to widen the scope of what I had done; I generalized too rapidly, my boy." He took a deep breath. "The method, the technique, is very complex," he said. "But imagine it this way: a man comes to New York. He explores it. Later, when he goes home, he is asked to draw a map of it--and he can do so, because he has the experience. He has the memory of New York, locked in his mind." Charley nodded. "What does that have to do with me?" he said. "The cells ... the cells of the body seem to have such a memory," the professor said. "It is the basis of my technique." Charley nodded. "O.K.," he said "I don't care how it works, so long as it-- It does work, doesn't it?"