"You understand the rules, don't you?" he asked. "All you have to do...." He went on, but Phil didn't hear him; he was too scared. When the first question popped up, he said: "I beg your pardon?" "I'll repeat the question," the quizmaster said. "You have chosen the 'General Category.' That pays twice as much, but it means I can ask you any question I like. The first one was: 'Who were the Essenes?'" Since the General Category questions paid off twice as much as the Restricted Categories, they were about four times as hard. But that didn't bother Phil Merriwether in the least. "The Essenes," he said, "were an obscure Jewish sect which flourished during the time of Christ, from before 100 B.C. to about 70 A.D. They are believed to be instrumental in the composition of the so-called Dead Sea Scrolls, which were discovered--" "That's enough," the quizmaster said. "You've given the right answer!" The orchestra sounded a chord. Applause followed. "Second question: Listen carefully. Henry the Seventh's title was the same as the title of the last Tudor king of England; the last Tudor king had the same name. What was the name of the last Tudor ruler of England?" The quizmaster smirked happily; the question was a trick one. "Elizabeth the First was the last Tudor _ruler_," said Phil. "The last Tudor _king_ was Henry the Eighth." Naturally, the answer was right. "Very good," said the quizzer. "Number three: what does pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis mean?" Phil closed his eyes and listened to the little voice inside his head. He said: "It is an inflammation of the lungs caused by tiny particles of rock dust; it is commonly known as 'silicosis' or 'miner's consumption.'" The quizmaster looked almost shocked, but, good showman that he was, he managed to keep a bland expression on his face. "That's _right_!" he bellowed. Phil Merriwether grinned happily. He didn't know how it had come about, but, somehow, something had filled his head full of all kinds of amazing facts. It didn't matter what the question was, all Phil had to do was think about it, and the answer was in his memory. He smiled, waiting for the next question. "You've come to the $25,000 question," said the MC. "If you want to go on, you will have to be put in a soundproof booth so that you won't be prompted by the audience. If you want to come back next week--" "I'll take it now," said Phil Merriwether. So they put him in a soundproof booth. All he could hear was the announcer's voice. Phil smiled to himself. Twenty-five thousand dollars so far! It was fantastic! He'd never have to work again! He answered the next question easily. Fifty thousand dollars! Fantastic! The announcer said: "What is the mathematical formula for the world's most powerful weapon?" Phil grinned. That was simple. "The formula is: _i_ over _b_ times _a_ equals _pi_ to the _i_ times _e_ over _mu_," he said. * * * * *