Cogswell coughed behind his hand. “It would seem, Dr. Dykstra, that scientists must also eat.”
“The laborer is worthy of his hire,” said Dykstra, “No genuine scientist ever starved or was in want. He must live sparingly, of course, but a Spartan regimen is all the more conducive to the work of the mind at highest efficiency.
“No, indeed, senator, the true scientist is not in need of royalties. A man who is worth his salt will automatically gain the reputation that will take him where he deserves to go — to the laboratories and to the endowments which are his rightfully, in return for the benefit he bestows so freely upon all mankind. Bestows without thought of the vulgar commercialism which we see here being attempted to be thrust upon us.”
In the afternoon, Jennings was called. His spare, sticklike frame settled awkwardly into the witness chair. An amused tolerance was upon his face.
“I would prefer to answer your questions,” he said. “There is no general statement I have to make beyond what has already been said.”
Cogswell said, “What can you tell us, Dr. Jennings, of the allegedly revolutionary principles behind these toys of Dr. Nagle?”
“I can tell you nothing, because I do not know what these principles are,” said Jennings.
“You do not know for certain that Dr. Nagle has actually made the discoveries claimed for him and by him?”
“I am certain. I am very certain that they exist. I am certain that this Volcano which you have there on the table is symbolical of perhaps the most revolutionary discoveries since those that led to the release of atomic energy. Proper utilization of the principles symbolized there would no doubt lead to transmutation of the elements with the simplicity of ordinary chemical reactions. It is difficult to estimate the value of the discovery.”
“And yet you tell us you do not know what the principle is,” said Cogswell. “It appears that the scientific mind runs in channels far removed from the reasoning of ordinary individuals.”
“No, that's a very ordinary channel of thinking — or should be, anyway,” said Jennings. “It simply means that I know the abilities of Martin Nagle. I know him. I trust him. If he says it is so, then I believe that his symbology is based upon actual fact.”
“Well, if you are so convinced of the existence of these discoveries, what is your opinion of Dr. Nagle’s contention that he is entitled to patent protection upon them?”
“I think he is entirely correct in his demands,” said Jennings.
“And these unknown principles would be classified, patent-wise, as Laws of Nature?”
“Yes.”
“If this is the case, why have they not been exposed by others of your profession? Is this symbology not sufficiently understandable to be deciphered? Do you acknowledge that, as Dr. Nagle says, no one else is smart enough to figure these things out for another hundred years? Or do you have another unwritten code — one forbidding you to try?”
Jennings smiled wryly. “Dr. Nagle didn’t say that, but we’ll let it pass. We have no code, either. On the contrary, there is scarcely a scientist in the country who has not tried to crack these three gimmicks of Mart’s since he put them on the market. I know of only one man who has made any partial success of the attempt.”
“Can you give any reason for this lack of success? Is Dr. Nagle truly the singular genius he appears?”
“He’s a singular genius, all right, but not in the way he appears,” said Jennings with a laugh. “To answer your question, I suspect there are certain traditional ways of finding out things that are wholly wrong in their approach. I believe Dr. Nagle has abandoned these and has devised for himself new methods to find basic knowledge.”
“And you would say, I suppose, that this Committee should recommend amendments to the Patent Laws permitting Dr. Nagle to obtain patents on Laws of Nature?”
"Indeed I would!” said Jennings.
VI.
They came in a stream after that. There were the bitter ones and the bewildered ones, and the senators listened in astonishment as the young researchers talked of the idiocy of legal definitions in scientific matters. Of invention and noninvention. Of combinations, defined by the legal mind. Of novelty and prior art. And the wonderful slip-of-the-wrist definitions of statutory and nonstatutory items. Of the mysterious “flash of genius” so essential to invention.
Some of the younger, less disciplined men poured out the unrestrained bitterness of long hours of research and development judged fruitless from the standpoint of patentability and resultant compensation.
But it wasn’t getting out, Mart observed. The reporters were taking down the words, but the bitterness wasn’t getting out to the minds of those who could vindicate him against the accusations that Baird and his kind had made. It was far easier for the press to quote a Dykstra and his comical, melodramatic interpretation than the sincere frustration of the researchers who were doing all they could to back Mart.
Thursday noon he said to Berk. “We’ve got to get it out where every one can buy it. Even if we win here in this little Committee and finally in Congress, we won’t have touched the problem of minds like Baird’s. That’s the real enemy.”
“What are you going to do?” said Berk.
“I’m going to offer to be interviewed on his program.”
Berk whistled. “Brother, that’s the equivalent of putting your head into the lion’s mouth clear down to your ankles. You know how they can murder you on those so-called interviews. You’re up there like a mounted insect with a pin stuck right through your middle. You don’t say a word. If you do, they shout you down with accusations of every sort. Baird’ll take the hide off you!”
“I don’t think so,” said Mart. “It’s pretty tough to tear off.”
Baird was more than delighted with the suggestion. Mart had the impression that the commentator could scarcely refrain from baring his teeth. Momentarily, he almost wished he had accepted Berk’s warning.
“I would like it to take place as soon as possible,” he said. “Before the completion of the hearings.”
“Tonight,” said Baird. “I’ll scrap my whole program for this evening and give you a chance to state your case to the whole country.”
Mart nodded. “I’ll meet you at the studio.”
He didn’t require any preparation. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. It was only a matter of keeping Baird from mangling his whole story. It was obvious that he was going to try.
He sat Mart at a bad angle, to begin with, so that his face was away from the cameras, and only Baird could make direct appeal to those who watched and listened. As soon as they were on the air, Mart shifted his chair so that he faced the camera squarely. Disconcerted, Baird was forced to shift or appear to be sitting behind Mart. He shifted.
He opened with a stream of talk that gave the audience a none too subtle view of the difficulties that television commentators endure in the course of their public service work. The impression was left that Dr. Martin Nagle was among the most difficult crosses that any commentator had to bear.
He said, “Dr. Nagle, will you tell our audience just what your concept of a satisfactory patent system is?”