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that—at first.
    But in the course of the following months, he had been subjected to endless exasperation. His requests for equipment, for technical assistance, for computer time were delayed; his request for travel funds snubbed; his views at interdepartmental meetings invariably overlooked.
    The breaking point came when Henry Garrison, junior to himself in point of service and definitely so in point of ability, received an advisory appointment, rich in prestige, that, by all rights, should have gone to Lamont. It was then that Lament's resentment built up to the point where merely proving himself right was no longer sufficient. He yearned to smash Hallam, destroy him utterly.
    The feeling was reinforced every day, almost every hour, by the unmistakable attitude of everyone else at the Pump Station. Lamont's abrasive personality didn't collect sympathy, but some existed nevertheless.
    Garrison himself was embarrassed. He was a quiet-spoken, amiable young man who clearly wanted no trouble and who now stood in the doorway of Lamont's lab with an expression that had more than a small component of apprehension in it.
    He said, "Hey, Pete, can I have a few words with you?"
    "As many as you like," said Lament, frowning and avoiding a direct eye-to-eye glance.
    Garrison came in and sat down. "Pete," he said, "I can't turn down the appointment but I want you to know I didn't push for it. It came as a surprise."
    "Who's asking you to turn it down? I don't give a damn."
    "Pete. It's Hallam. If I turned it down, it would go to someone else, not you. What have you done to the old man?"
    Lamont rounded on the other. "What do you think of Hallam? What kind of man is he, in your opinion?"
    Garrison was caught by surprise. He pursed his lips and rubbed his nose. "Well—" he said, and let the sound fade off.
    "Great man? Brilliant scientist? Inspiring leader?"
    "Well—"
    "Let me tell you. The man's a phony! He's a fraud! He's got this reputation and this position of his and he's sitting on it in a panic. He knows that I see through him and that's what he has against me."
    Garrison gave out a small, uneasy laugh, "You haven't gone up to him and said—"
    "No, I haven't said anything directly to him," said Lamont, morosely. "Some day I will. But he can tell. He knows I'm one person he isn't fooling even if I don't say anything."
    "But, Pete, where's the point in letting him blow it? I don't say I think he's the world's greatest, either, but where's the sense in broadcasting it? Butter him up a little. He's got your career in his hands."
    "Has he? I've got his reputation in mine. I'm going to show him up. I'm going to strip him."
    "How?"
    "My business!" muttered Lamont, who at the moment had not the slightest idea as to how.
    "But that's ridiculous," said Garrison. "You can't win. Hell just destroy you. Even if he isn't an Einstein or an Oppenheimer really, he's more than either to the world in general. He is the Father of the Electron Pump to Earth's two-billion population and nothing you can possibly do will affect them as long as the Electron Pump is the key to human paradise. While that's true, Hallam can't be touched and you're crazy if you think he can. What the hell, Pete, tell him he's great and eat crow. Don't be another Denison!"
    "I tell you what, Henry," said Lament, in sudden fury. "Why not mind your own business?"
    Garrison rose suddenly and left without a word. Lamont had made another enemy; or, at least, lost another friend. The price, however, was right, he finally decided, for one remark of Garrison had set the ball rolling in another direction.
    Garrison had said, in essence, "... as long as the Electron Pump is the key to human paradise . . . Hallam can't be touched."
    With that clanging in his mind, Lamont for the first time turned his attention away from Hallam and placed it on the Electron Pump.
    Was the Electron Pump the key to human paradise? Or was there, by Heaven, a catch?
    Everything in history had had a catch.