McBride gritted his teeth. "Look, beautiful and senseless. This is Station 10. It is electronegative. One is electropositive. You haven't got a charge-reversal generator in that crate of yours, because I know darned well that the only place where they have 'em is right here in the lens itself. It's the only place they're needed. Now, Miss Drake, the lens is twenty-two million miles in diameter. It is that size because a disk of that diameter subtends the same arc as the sun does when viewed from Terra. Since the lens is situated halfway between Sol and Pluto, the magnification amounts to the projection of the sun on Pluto equal to the sun on Terra. Or don't you understand the simpler mathematics of optical systems? "Now, out across six and a half million miles of space, from here, are Stations 9 and 1, both electropositive. It so happens, Miss Sandra Drake, that _if the density of matter in space were as high as the atmosphere of Terra at twenty thousand feet, the difference in charge between Station 9 and this one, 10, would be high enough to cause an ionization discharge_! Now put that in that jade cigarette holder and choke on it! Can you possibly--is that microscopic mind of yours large enough--conceive of the effect upon contact? Sister, you'd not only be electrocuted, but you'd light up the sky with the electronic explosion to a degree that would make some Sirian astronomer think that there was a supernova right in his back yard. Now quit acting like the spoiled brat you are, and come along." "Nice, high-sounding, technical words," sniffed the red-headed girl. "I presume that you have such a thing in that little can of yours? I mean something that will change the charge on it while in flight?" "I wouldn't have survived the first crossing if I hadn't," snapped McBride. "And pray tell, how do you detect the change in the electronic charge from within?"