But what did it matter if he were deminiaturizing? If he were, then, in a brief time - seconds merely, at most - he would be dead and it would happen too quickly to make any impression upon him. One moment he would be alive and the next moment there would be nothingness.
How could he ask for a better death? Why should he want to know a second earlier that it was going to happen?
Because he was alive and he was human - and wanting to know was what made an object alive and human.
How could he tell?
Morrison stared at the dim glinting around him, at the moving swell of the water molecules, turning and shifting around him in a kind of slow motion as both he and they moved along the intercellular stream.
If he were increasing in size, they should seem to be decreasing, and vice versa.
Morrison stared. They were decreasing in size, getting smaller. Was this death? Or his imagination?
Wait, were the water molecules increasing in size? Swelling? Getting larger? Ballooning? If so, it must follow that he was getting smaller.
Would he shrink to the size of a subsubatomic particle? A subelectron? Would he go streaking off at the speed of light and explode when he was halfway to the moon, dying in a vacuum before he had time to know he was in a vacuum?
No, the molecules were shrinking, not expanding - Morrison closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was going mad. Or was he beginning to experience brain damage?
Better to die, then. Better death altogether than a dead brain and living body.
Or were the water molecules pulsating? Why should they pulsate?
Think, Morrison, think. You're a scientist. Find an explanation. Why should they pulsate?
He knew why the field might weaken - its tendency to miniaturize the surroundings. Why should it strengthen?
It would have to gain energy to strengthen. From where?
What about the surrounding molecules? They had more random heat energy per volume than he had because they were at a higher temperature. Ordinarily, heat should flow from the surroundings into his suit until his suit and he himself would be at blood temperature and he would die of his own inability to rid himself of the heat he had accumulated, as he almost had on his earlier venture outside the ship.
But there was not only the heat energy intensity of his body; there was also the energy of the miniaturization field. And, as he was struck randomly by the water molecules, energy need not flow into him in the form of heat, but in the form of miniaturization activation. The field would grow more intense and he would shrink.
This must be true at all times when a miniaturized object was surrounded by normal objects of higher temperature. The energy might flow from the surroundings to the miniaturized object either as heat or as field intensity. And it must be that the smaller the object, the more intensely miniaturized, the more it was the field that gained the energy and not the object itself.
Probably the ship, too, was pulsating, growing larger and smaller constantly, but to an extent not great enough to notice. Still, that was why the Brownian motion hadn't increased as far as it might have and that was why the air-conditioning could perform its function with less strain. The miniaturization field formed a cushion in both cases.
But he - Morrison, alone in the cell - was much smaller, possessing less mass, and for him the energy inflow went far more into miniaturization than heat.
Morrison's fists clenched helplessly. He let go of the computer and didn't care. Undoubtedly, the others, Boranova and Konev certainly, knew of this and might have explained it to him. Once again they let him go into danger without warning him.
And now that he had worked it out for himself - what good did it do him?
He opened his eyes suddenly.
Yes, there were pulsations. Now that he knew what to expect, he saw them. The water molecules were expanding and contracting in an irregular rhythm as they gave up energy to the field and then extracted energy from it. I
Morrison watched it with a stupefied swaying rhythm and he found himself muttering soundlessly: "Larger, smaller, larger, smaller, larger, smaller."
It could only get so large, he thought. The expansion mirrored his own contraction and there was only so much energy to be pushed into him to power that contraction. The cellular contents had a temperature only so high. On the other hand, they could take large quantities of energy from him, and once they took enough, what was left would go more and more quickly, and he would explode.
Therefore, when the water molecules expanded in size (and he himself was growing smaller) he was safe. He would not grow very small. When the water molecules contracted in size, however (and he himself was growing larger), he was not safe. If the water molecules continued to contract until they were too small to see that meant he would be expanding toward instantaneous explosion.
"Larger, smaller - smaller - stop contracting!"
Morrison let his breath go, for the molecules were expanding again.
Over and over! Each time - would the contraction stop?
It seemed to be playing with him and it didn't matter anyway. No matter if it brought him to the brink of destruction, then snatched him away, and if it did it a million times over, it wouldn't matter. Sooner or later, his air would be gone and he would die a slow, suffocating death.
Better a quick death, surely.
Kaliinin was screaming. She was the first to realize what had happened and she choked on her words.
"He's gone! He's gone!" she shrieked.
Boranova was unable to stop herself from asking the obvious question. "Who's gone?"
Kaliinin turned wide eyes on her and said, "Who's gone? How can you ask who's gone? Albert is gone."
Boranova stared blankly out at the spot where Morrison had been and now wasn't. "What happened?"
Dezhnev muttered hoarsely, "I'm not sure. We cut a corner closely. Albert, attached to the outside of the ship, introduced an asymmetry, perhaps. I tried to steer the ship away from - from whatever it was, but it didn't respond properly."
"A fixed macromolecular organelle," said Konev, who looked up now after having buried his face in his hands, "scraped him off. We've got to get back to him. He may have the information we need."
Boranova by now clearly understood the situation. She unclasped herself with a quick movement and stood up. "Information?" she said tightly. "Is that what you feel the loss of, Yuri? Information? Do you know what's going to happen now? Albert's miniaturization field is isolated and he's only atom-sized. The chance of his undergoing spontaneous deminiaturization is at least fifty times ours. Given enough time, the chance will become too good. Information or not, we must get him. If he deminiaturizes, he will kill Shapirov and he will kill us."
Konev said, "We're just arguing motivation. We both want him back. The reasons why are secondary."
"We should never have sent him out," said Kaliinin. "I knew it was wrong to do so."
"It is done," said Boranova gruffly, "and we must proceed from that point. Arkady!"
"I'm trying," said Dezhnev. "Don't teach a drunkard to hiccup."
"I'm not trying to teach you anything, old fool. I'm ordering you. Turn around. Back! Back!"
"No," said Dezhnev. "Let this old fool tell you that's ridiculous. Do you want me to make a U-turn and buck the current? You want me to try to force my way upstream?"
Boranova said, "If you just stand still, the stream will bring him to us."
"He is adhering to something. He will not be brought to us," said Dezhnev. "What we must do is turn to the other side of the dendrite and let the return stream carry us back."
Boranova put both hands to her head and said, "I apologize for calling you an old fool, Arkady, but if we go back by the counterstream we'll miss him."