"Neither do I," said Mary, blushing. "You're absolutely right." Mr. Eammer uttered a deep sigh. "Such deep love, such clean emotion, it cuts my heart out, honestly. Okay, we'll give the script a scrubbing. Nobody'll put a finger on her." "I don't think I'm interested," said Mary regretfully. Mr. Eammer was staggered. He recovered immediately and said hastily, "Smart girl. What intelligence. It's no life for you." "But, Mary," I said, kind of liking the idea of my Mary on the screen; of being sole owner of her sweetness with millions of people knowing nobody could kiss this girl but myself. "It's such a rare opportunity. Every girl wants to be a movie star. Do it!" "Sure," cried Mr. Eammer. "Don't be a dope. How many girls get a chance like this?" Mary whispered, her eyes shining, "Well, all right, dear, if you insist." "You have a deal, Mr. Eammer," I said quickly. Mary typed the contract on my portable as dictated by Mr. Eammer. "Put in a clause," I said cautiously, remembering his ethics, "that the contract is effective only when the million is deposited in my account." Mr. Eammer frowned. "Put in a clause for me, too," he said. "He can't draw on the million without a signed receipt from me saying he's delivered all his blueprints and technical notebooks on the invention--and a full-size camera model, big enough to hold people." "I agree," I said. "I'll have it built and delivered immediately." I shook Mr. Eammer's clammy hand and he departed with Mary to get the million dollars out of his secret safe-deposit boxes. * * * * * I stared dreamily after them, mentally spending that money on all the wonderful things I'd always wanted. A scintillometer. A centrifuge. Maybe I could even build my own private cyclotron. And I could visualize Mary cooking dinner in a little white cottage with a picket fence. Within the week, I had delivered the full-size camera to Mr. Eammer's studio. As he left me, whimpering with joy and carefully locking the iron doors of the room he'd set aside for my equipment, I stared at the signed receipt in my hand. A million dollars. I was rich. At this moment, Mary appeared at the studio gate and ran toward me, her face deathly pale. "What's the matter?" I cried. "Remember how we couldn't find Susie all week?" she gasped. "Well, I just found her." Mary held out her fist, opened her fingers and I recoiled in astonishment. In her palm was Susie, my cat. But a Susie that was one inch long ... the smallest, tiniest cat I'd ever seen. She was alive and seemed healthy as she licked her white fur and uttered a meow I barely could hear. My throat was so dry I could hardly get the words out. "Good Lord. The invention. Something went wrong. It not only sends the _image_ in three dimensions without a screen to receive it; it also transmits the _actual body itself_ through space. _I've created a matter transmitter._" "But ... but why is Susie so small?" wailed Mary.