During the next four hours, Markten's assistant worked with extra speed, so that he was able to have the smaller vat drained and the electrode placement diagramed for his own use. "Through what process of logic," he asked Markten as he neared his last set of adjustments, "did you make your decision concerning a primary charge for the inducement of the electrochemical reactions of which you spoke?" "You may inscribe in your apprentice journal," the Elder said, as he prepared a dynamo for use, "that insofar as the logic of the situation was concerned, I simply applied the physical truth that an object at rest tends to remain at rest until acted upon by some outside force. Since the objects in this case are ingredients of a chemical nature specifically constructed for electrical conduction, the only possible solution is to activate them through application of an electromotive force. If the logic has been faulty, of course," Markten paused a moment, "then we will know that there has simply been an error in construction. However, we have been precise in every step. They will work." "What they will do, naturally, rests in theory. Something of an electrical nature, in accordance with your logic. Correct?" "Precisely. And if I'm wrong, and they prove of no use at all--we'll dismantle them and inform Research Library that any further such diagrams discovered are worthless." The assistant straightened from his work. "Finished?" Markten asked. "I am. You know, though, even though they aren't exactly the same, they have a peculiar similarity to--" "We built according to specifications. Ready?" "Go ahead, Markten." * * * * * Markten first reduced the penetrating power of the laboratory operation-lamps to a subdued softness. The smooth metal walls of the rectangularly shaped laboratory seemed to melt away to nothingness, and most of the bluish light was focused on the contents of the two vats. Markten pressed a control. There was no sound as the electrical impulses surged through the structures they had made, and the silence itself seemed a part of their stillness. There was a faint odor now of ozone. Markten glanced at dials. "Try a temperature test; see if the materials are withstanding the amperage. I will cut the current at your signal." Markten's assistant obeyed. "I don't understand," he said. "At completion, they were room-temperature--68.7 calibrations. Now, exactly 98.6 calibrations, yet the resistance of their chemical constituents would not warrant--" "Any damage? Tissue-breakdown?" "None I can see. Markten! The big one moved!" Then the smaller one moved, too. Both of them sat up. For the moment Markten and his aide looked only at each other, the younger of the two speechless, incredulity on his features. Markten smiled.