Let’s face it. He had a pure uranium mine on his hands. Just imagine what could be done with it! Entertainment could be plucked right out of the theaters, sports arenas, ball parks, anywhere. News events could be covered immediately and wherever they might occur by a spin of a dial. Even “Person to Person” wouldn’t need all that cumbersome equipment! The military could watch war games, attacks, any development, in safety. Why, almost anyone could explore, maybe even discover rich mineral deposits with his new, penetrating TV camera! You could observe the bottom of an ocean and the heart of a mountain. Yes, sir! He would revolutionize TV pick-up and transmission. Maybe even the secrets of space itself-- He felt dizzy. There was no end to the possibilities. And he was sitting on top of the gizmo that would do it! The Hartley Penetelecam! Or simpler still: _The Hartleycam!_ He’d let someone like General Electric handle it. Possibly RCA. And the right would be his. He’d be a Croesus. Rich as Rothchild. Another Rockefeller! He’d buy up part of this park and put up Hartley Center. And he’d have his office on the entire penthouse floor. The inventor and controller of the Hartleycam! It would be a closely-guarded secret. Like the government’s Norden Bomb Sight. Or the H-bomb. The Norden Bomb Sight--the H-bomb--the Hartleycam--the Hartleycam-- “Mr. Hartley! The president will see you now.” A big man. Round owlish eyes behind thin steel-framed spectacles. Did he wear a toupee? “Sir, when I signed contracts with your corporation to develop and exploit the Hartleycam--” “Say no more, my boy! I’m with _you!_ But it is beyond my control. It has been ever since. Certain government factors have taken over, you know. There is nothing either of us can do. It was too big--too big!” Of course the president didn’t wear a toupee. He was bald. It showed when he bowed. But not to Don. He was not there. He bowed to the _Hartleycam_--the _Hartleycam_-- * * * * * “Mr. Hartley! The president will see you now.” A pompous man. A man accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. But not recently? “Sir! As publisher and president of the leading metropolitan newspaper--” “Sshhh, young man! I know who you are. Don’t let too many others find out! Why did you let your spy camera get into the wrong hands? Don’t you know it is the unscrupulous, the ruthless who grab power whenever they can? What happens when that power is unconquerable???” “But I--” “You gave them the power to penetrate into all places. No more privacy! No more privacy--no more successful opposition to ruthless power.” “Your paper--can’t you--” “The freedom of the press? It is dead. Like all other freedoms--completely dead. You must conform, or else--” They burst in unannounced. They were grim, and tall, and strong. They had black uniforms with a large silver H on the chest. H? “I’ve been expecting you,” said the pompous publisher resignedly. “I am ready!”