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flight of stairs and into the workshop. Tallon identified

it at once by the familiar smell of hot solder and stale cigarette smoke,

a smell that had not changed since his student days.

"Are you there, Ed?" The echoes from Winfieid's voice suggested the

workshop was quite small. "I've brought a visitor."

"I know you've brought a visitor," a thin, irritable voice said from

close by. "I can see him, can't I? You've been blind so long you've begun

to think nobody else can see." The voice faded into barely audible swearing.

Winfield gave his booming laugh and whispered to Tallon, "Ed was born

on this planet, but he was very active in the old Unionist movement at

one time and didn't have enough sense to quit when the Lutherians took

over. He was arrested by Kreuger and suffered an unfortunate accident to

his heels while trying to get free. There are quite a few of Kreuger's

prizes hopping about the Pavilion like birds."

"And my ears are all right, too," Hogarth's voice warned.

"Ed, this is Sam Tallon -- the man who almost finished Cherkassky.

He's an electronics expert, so perhaps you'll get my torch working now."

"I have a degree in electronics," Tallon said. "That isn't the same as

being an expert."

"But you'll be able to get the bugs out of a simple frequency-reducer

circuit," Winfield said. "Here, feel this."

He drew Tallon over to a bench and placed his hands on a complicated

metal and plastic object about three feet square.

"Is that it?" Tallon explored the massive circuitry with his fingers.

"What good is this thing to you? I thought you were talking about

something you could carry in one hand."

"It's a model," Hogarth snapped impatiently, "twenty times the size of

the real instrument. That lets the doctor feel out what he thinks he's

doing, and I reproduce it in proper size. It's a good idea, except it

doesn't work."

"It'll work now," Winfield said confidently. "What do you say, son?"

Tallon thought it over. Winfield seemed to be a crazy old coot, and in

all probability Hogarth was another, but in the brief time he had spent

with them, he had almost forgotten about being blind. "I'll help," he said.

"Have you materials to build two prototypes?"

Winfield squeezed his hand excitedly. "Don't worry about that part, son.

Helen will see we get all the parts we need."

"Helen?"

"Yes. Helen Juste. She's head of the rehabilitation center."

"And she doesn't object to your building this thing?"

"Object!" Winfield roared. "It was mainly her idea. She's been behind the

scheme from the start."

Tallon shook his head in disbelief. "Isn't that a strange thing for a senior

government officer to do? Why should she risk appearing before the doctrinal

synod just to help you?"

"There you go again, son -- letting your concern for petty detail hinder

the grand scheme. How should I know why she does it? Perhaps she likes my

eyes; Dr. Heck tells me they're a rather pretty shade of blue. Of course

he's prejudiced, since he made them himself."

Both Winfield and Hogarth laughed extravagantly. Tallon put his hands

on the blocky shape of the frequency-reducer model, where he could feel

sunlight warming his skin. All his preconceived notions had been wrong.

The life of a blind man was proving to be neither dull nor simple.

six

Tallon positioned the sonar torch carefully on his forehead, slipped the

earpiece into his right ear, and switched on. He stood up, moved his

head about experimentally, and began to walk. He was suddenly aware of

how much he had gotten used to feeling his way with a cane.

The range of the torch was set for five yards, which meant anything beyond

that distance would produce no echo. As he advanced he moved his head

first horizontally, then vertically. The latter movement produced a tone

that could be compared to an inverted vee as the sonar beam, now touching

the ground, approached his feet and receded again.

Tallon forced himself to walk smoothly and steadily, giving all