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I was about to say that I knew that. After all, everyone did. But there was a touch of eagerness in Priss's voice as he said it and I looked up in time to catch animation in his eye, as though he were delighted to spread that piece of news. So I nodded my head as if I were filing it for future reference.

Then you would say, Professor Priss,' I prodded again, 'that Bloom is probably wrong and that anti-gravity is impossible?'

And finally Priss nodded and said, The gravitational field can be weakened, of course, but if by anti-gravity we mean a true zero-gravity field-no gravity at all over a significant volume of space-then I suspect anti-gravity may turn out to be impossible, despite Bloom.' And I had, after a fashion, what I wanted.

I wasn't able to see Bloom for nearly three months after that, and when I did see him he was in an angry mood.

He had grown angry at once, of course, when the news first broke concerning Priss's statement. He let it be known that Priss would be invited to the eventual display of the anti-gravity device as soon as it was constructed, and would even be asked to participate in the demonstration. Some reporter-not I, unfortunately-caught him between appointments and asked him to elaborate on that and he said:

'I'll have the device eventually; soon, maybe. And you can be there, and so can anyone else the press would care to have there. And Professor James Priss can be there. He can represent Theoretical Science and after I have demonstrated anti-gravity, he can adjust his theory to explain it. I'm sure he will know how to make his adjustments in masterly fashion and show exactly why I couldn't possibly have failed.

He might do it now and save time, but I suppose he won't.'

It was all said very politely, but you could hear the snarl under the rapid flow of words.

Yet he continued his occasional game of billiards with Priss and when the two met they behaved with complete propriety. One could tell the progress Bloom, was making by their respective attitudes to the press. Bloom grew curt and even snappish, while Priss developed an increasing good humor.

When my umpteenth request for an interview with Bloom was finally accepted, I wondered if perhaps that meant a break in Bloom's quest. I had a little daydream of him announcing final success to me. It didn't work out that way. He met me in his office at Bloom Enterprises in upstate New York. It was a wonderful setting, well away from any populated area, elaborately landscaped, and covering as much ground as a rather large industrial establishment. Edison at his height, two centuries ago, had never been as phenomenally successful as Bloom.

But Bloom was not in a good humor. He came striding in ten minutes late and went snarling past his secretary's desk with the barest nod in my direction. He was wearing a lab coat, unbuttoned.

He threw himself into his chair and said, 'I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting, but I didn't have as much time as I had hoped.' Bloom was a born showman and knew better than to antagonize the press, but I had the feeling he was having a great deal of difficulty at that moment in adhering to this principle.

I made the obvious guess. 'I am given to understand, sir, that your recent tests have been unsuccessful.'

'Who told you that?'

'I would say it was general knowledge, Mr. Bloom.'

'No, it isn't. Don't say that, young man. There is no general knowledge about what goes on in my laboratories and workshops. You're stating the Professor's opinions, aren't you? Priss's, I mean.'

'No I'm-'

'Of course you are. Aren't you the one to whom he made that statement-that anti-gravity is impossible?'

'He didn't make the statement that flatly.'

'He never says anything flatly, but it was flat enough for him, and not as flat as I'll have his damned rubber-sheet Universe before I'm finished.'

Then does that mean you're making progress, Mr. Bloom?'

'You know I am,' he said with a snap. 'Or you should know. Weren't you at the demonstration last week?'

'Yes, I was.'

I judged Bloom to be in trouble or he wouldn't be mentioning that demonstration. It worked but it was not a world beater. Between the two poles of a magnet a region of lessened gravity was produced.

It was done very cleverly. A Mossbauer-Effect Balance was used to probe the space between the poles.

If you've never seen an M-E Balance in action, it consists primarily of a tight monochromatic beam of gamma rays shot down the low-gravity field. The gamma rays change wavelength slightly but measurably under the influence of the 'gravitational field and if anything happens to alter the intensity of the field, the wavelength-change shifts correspondingly. It is an extremely delicate method for probing a gravitational field and it worked like a charm. There was no question but that Bloom had lowered gravity.

The trouble was that it had been done before by others. Bloom, to be sure, had made use of circuits that greatly increased the ease with which such an effect had been achieved-his system was typically ingenious and had been duly patented-and he maintained that it was by this method that anti-gravity would become not merely a scientific curiosity but a practical affair with industrial applications.

Perhaps. But it was an incomplete job and he didn't usually make a fuss over incompleteness. He wouldn't have done so this time if he weren't desperate to display something. I said, 'It's my impression that what you accomplished at that preliminary demonstration was 0.82 g, and better than that was achieved in Brazil last spring.'

That so? Well, calculate the energy input in Brazil and here, and then tell me the difference in gravity decrease per kilowatt-hour. You'll be surprised.'

'But the point is, can you reach 0 g-zero gravity? That's what Professor Priss thinks may be impossible. Everyone agrees that merely lessening the intensity of the field is no great feat.'

Bloom's fist clenched. I had the feeling that a key experiment had gone wrong that day and he was annoyed almost past endurance. Bloom hated to be balked by the Universe.

He said, Theoreticians make me sick.' He said it in a low, controlled voice, as though he were finally tired of not saying it, and he was going to speak his mind and be damned. 'Priss has won two Nobel Prizes for sloshing around a few equations, but what has he done with it? Nothing! I have done something with it and I'm going to do more with it, whether Priss likes it or not.

'I'm the one people will remember. 'I'm the one who gets the credit. He can keep his damned title and his

Prizes and his kudos from the scholars. Listen, I'll tell you what gripes him. Plain old-fashioned jealousy.

It kills him that I get what I get for doing. He wants it for thinking. 'I said to him once-we play billiards together, you know--'

It was at this point that I quoted Priss's statement about billiards and got Bloom's counterstatement. I never published either. That was just trivia.

'We play billiards,' said Bloom, when he had cooled down, 'and I've won my share of games. We keep things friendly enough. What the hell-college chums and all that -though how he got through, I'll never know. He made it in physics, of course, and in math, but he got a bare pass- out of pity, I think-in every humanities course he ever took.'

'You did not get your degree, did you, Mr. Bloom?' That was sheer mischief on my part. I was enjoying his eruption.

'I quit to go into business, damn it. My academic average, over the three years I attended, was a strong B. Don't imagine anything else, you hear? Hell, by the time Priss got his Ph.D., I was working on my second million.'

He went on, clearly irritated. 'Anyway, we were playing billiards and I said to him. "Jim, the average man will never understand why you get the Nobel Prize when I'm the one who gets the results. Why do you need two? Give me one!" He stood there, chalking up his cue, and then he said in his soft namby-pamby way, "You have two billions, Ed. Give me one." So you see, he wants the money.'