Rather, two did, and the third carried through without pause. Fascinating!
“Action-reaction,” Lieutenant Repro said. “Inevitable.”
I wondered what the point was but remained too intrigued by the balls to inquire. Such a simple yet effective way to demonstrate a principle of physics. “May I try it sir?”
He nodded acquiescence. I lifted one ball, let it go, and watched the far one fling out with similar force. I let the progression continue, noting that the size of the swinging arcs gradually diminished, and that the row of steel balls began to get moving, until finally all five were gently swinging in unison. Friction, I realized. No process was perfect in atmosphere. In a vacuum it would work better, though there would still be some power siphoned away by the inefficiency of the supporting strings.
I tried two balls, then three, then four, then five—and smiled, for, of course, the five merely swung without collisions. Then I started a ball on each side, watching them rebound outward simultaneously.
Then I started two balls on one side and one on the other, and saw the reaction proceed without hitch.
The two proceeded back on the one side, the one on the other. This device could handle opposite impulses without confusing them.
Then I swung a single ball down with a double force. The opposite ball flung out with similar force.
I looked up. “How does it know the difference between two balls with normal force, and one with double force?”
“It knows,” Repro said gravely.
I played with it some more. “The double-force ball is traveling faster,” I decided. “That speed is transmitted.”
Then I tried two balls at normal force, and then three. Two, then three rebounded. “The velocity is constant,” I said, bemused. “But somehow it knows how many there are.”
“It knows,” he agreed again. “Action and reaction are constant, anywhere in the universe, and in any form in the universe. One has but to read the forces correctly.”
“Even in human events?” I asked, beginning to catch on.
“If we read correctly.”
“Then psychology reduces to elementary physics?”
“If.”
I nodded. “It must be so.”
He looked at me, his wasted body strangely animated. “Show me your power,” he said, using a Navy idiom.
“Yes, sir.” I took a breath, studying him with more than my eyes and ears. “You are intelligent—about one point three on the human scale—and have a civilian university education. You are honest but lack physical courage, so you become compromised. You see reality too clearly, but it is painful, so you dull your sensitivity with a drug—and have done so increasingly for the past decade. You had and lost a woman; that contributed. When your Navy enlistment expires, and they deny you reenlistment, you will retire without protest, step off into space, float free toward the sun, and open your suit.”
He was unimpressed. “You could have gotten most of that from Personnel records.”
“Had I known your identity, sir,” I agreed.
He nodded, acknowledging my point. I had been summoned suddenly to an office; I could not have known. “And why did Sergeant Scapegoat connect us?”
“I have a private mission. You—” I concentrated, seeking to fathom this specific aspect of his nature.
My talent is normally a general thing, a perception of fundamental biases, rather than a detailed itemization of traits. It did take time for me to understand a person properly, and this was sudden.
Mostly, in the Navy, I had not bothered to use my talent on the soldiers around me; it really wasn't worth it. I had used it on Juana, and on Sergeant Smith, once he caught my attention, but there was no more point in using it on everyone than in studying the complete Personnel files on everyone. It requires an effort to form an informed opinion, and the Navy does not leave a trainee much surplus energy. For routine life and work, it is often best simply to accept people at face
“Action-reaction,” Lieutenant Repro said. “Inevitable.”
I wondered what the point was but remained too intrigued by the balls to inquire. Such a simple yet effective way to demonstrate a principle of physics. “May I try it sir?”
He nodded acquiescence. I lifted one ball, let it go, and watched the far one fling out with similar force. I let the progression continue, noting that the size of the swinging arcs gradually diminished, and that the row of steel balls began to get moving, until finally all five were gently swinging in unison. Friction, I realized. No process was perfect in atmosphere. In a vacuum it would work better, though there would still be some power siphoned away by the inefficiency of the supporting strings.
I tried two balls, then three, then four, then five—and smiled, for, of course, the five merely swung without collisions. Then I started a ball on each side, watching them rebound outward simultaneously.
Then I started two balls on one side and one on the other, and saw the reaction proceed without hitch.
The two proceeded back on the one side, the one on the other. This device could handle opposite impulses without confusing them.
Then I swung a single ball down with a double force. The opposite ball flung out with similar force.
I looked up. “How does it know the difference between two balls with normal force, and one with double force?”
“It knows,” Repro said gravely.
I played with it some more. “The double-force ball is traveling faster,” I decided. “That speed is transmitted.”
Then I tried two balls at normal force, and then three. Two, then three rebounded. “The velocity is constant,” I said, bemused. “But somehow it knows how many there are.”
“It knows,” he agreed again. “Action and reaction are constant, anywhere in the universe, and in any form in the universe. One has but to read the forces correctly.”
“Even in human events?” I asked, beginning to catch on.
“If we read correctly.”
“Then psychology reduces to elementary physics?”
“If.”
I nodded. “It must be so.”
He looked at me, his wasted body strangely animated. “Show me your power,” he said, using a Navy idiom.
“Yes, sir.” I took a breath, studying him with more than my eyes and ears. “You are intelligent—about one point three on the human scale—and have a civilian university education. You are honest but lack physical courage, so you become compromised. You see reality too clearly, but it is painful, so you dull your sensitivity with a drug—and have done so increasingly for the past decade. You had and lost a woman; that contributed. When your Navy enlistment expires, and they deny you reenlistment, you will retire without protest, step off into space, float free toward the sun, and open your suit.”
He was unimpressed. “You could have gotten most of that from Personnel records.”
“Had I known your identity, sir,” I agreed.
He nodded, acknowledging my point. I had been summoned suddenly to an office; I could not have known. “And why did Sergeant Scapegoat connect us?”
“I have a private mission. You—” I concentrated, seeking to fathom this specific aspect of his nature.
My talent is normally a general thing, a perception of fundamental biases, rather than a detailed itemization of traits. It did take time for me to understand a person properly, and this was sudden.
Mostly, in the Navy, I had not bothered to use my talent on the soldiers around me; it really wasn't worth it. I had used it on Juana, and on Sergeant Smith, once he caught my attention, but there was no more point in using it on everyone than in studying the complete Personnel files on everyone. It requires an effort to form an informed opinion, and the Navy does not leave a trainee much surplus energy. For routine life and work, it is often best simply to accept people at face
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