"Do you want me to? Should I obey the roar of the mob? And look!" He gestured at one of the papers, where a center-page box proclaimed, 'Commissioner Rules Out Lane-Slag Match.' "At thirty-seven they say I'm too old to play." "Don't do it, Grant." He felt her conflicting, torn emotions. "Yet, the funny thing is, I don't think I could live if they allow Slag to go on and on." * * * * * Grant's apartment was ill-equipped for working with micro-organisms. So, although preliminary study opened up no encouraging line of experimentation, next day he transferred his work to the university laboratories. He found his colleagues friendly--one had cheerfully handled Grant's lectures during his absence--but reserved, as if they suspected him to be guilty of some terrible sin, yet hoped he might prove himself innocent. Barker, the bio-chemist, listened to his theory of the probability of change in the nerve center of the ball. "I have not worked with these cultures," he said. "You claim they are artificially produced solely to provide a focal receptor for the controlling minds. Are the cells non-reproductive?" "Yes. You see, the structure must be stable. Any mind can provide the necessary power to move light objects short distances, but focusing that power is the difficulty. Hence the sensitive core. The operator can _sense_ where to direct his will." Barker reflected a moment. "So the culture is purely static--doesn't even amplify the influence. In that case, I can only visualize such changes as natural radiation might bring about. No hope there for a recurrent pattern of change." "Learning ability--acquisition of power to act voluntarily--I thought the answer might be in that." "We'll see. Might as well begin there, anyway. Get us a few of the balls, Lane, and I'm sure the staff will gladly try to help out." That evening Grant walked onto the court of the Colliseum and was made certain of the city's anger toward him. Bee's idea was worth testing, and he had brought with him some student telepaths, but the instant he appeared the crowd rose in a storm of fury. When the announcer requested spectators to direct the ball at Grant, their wrath gave way to cheers, and they concentrated hopefully on crushing him. But the screen held, the telepaths sensed no invading influence as Grant whirled the ball about the court, until in disgust he signaled for the screen to be deactivated. Instantly the will of the crowd took hold. The sphere jerked erratically until concerted influence steadied it opposite Grant. Then it flashed into motion, a heavy, deadly missile, with all the mind power of a mob driving it murderously across the court at him. He stopped it easily, six inches away. * * * * * Barker said, "No use seeking further. We may not know everything living organisms can do, but we can certainly tell what is beyond their power. The tests are conclusive."