"Yes, but I tried everything else and nothing else worked." "You tried everything? Look, Gene, everything covers--" "I know," grinned Gene. "Space is bigger than anything. I'm going to make another try at seeking the possible conflicting term. That is, as soon as I get this field-generator adjusted higher." "You did it with that?" "So far, yes. But it still leaves a lot to be desired. Now, I've got it running properly. Give me that paper and stand back out of the way!" Gene set the temple-clamp over his head and snapped the switch. The equipment warmed for a minute, and then Gene started to put characters down on the page as fast as he could write. He filled a half page in finger-cramping fury, and then stopped writing to stare at the page for a full ten seconds. Another equation appeared after this, and another which Gene combined. There was no more writing for a full minute then, and Andrew lost all track or semblance of order to Gene's writing. A scant term here, a single character there, a summation line--it became a sort of mathematical shorthand; a mere reminder of the salient points in the argument. The manipulation of the terms went on mentally. The tenseness increased. The shorthand scrawls became fewer and fewer and disappeared entirely. The paper was forgotten, and the pencil dropped from Gene's fingers. Andrew watched, held by the intensity of Gene's thinking. The other man was motionless, his muscles tensed slightly. An hour passed, and Gene had not moved, before Andrew became worried. He remembered-- "Gene had not blinked his eye for forty minutes!" "Gene! Gene!" No answer. "Shut that thing off!" No answer. * * * * *