The Stardroppers by John Brunner Page B

carts. A wheel rolling along the ground—that was all right. But one spinning of its own accord in the air smacked of magic, and they were terrified.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re the missionary teaching us about the wheel!” Dan said acidly.
    “No, but Berghaus is—even though he may well not realize it himself.”
    “What makes you so sure?” Dan challenged. “Have you made some fantastic discovery through your ’dropper, or are you indulging in wishful thinking like Mrs. Towler?”
    “I thought we had given up needling each other,” Watson said in a tone of mild reproof. “Anyway, what answer would you expect to that question? If I say yes, you’ll say, ‘Show me! Teach me!’ And that’s impossible. But if I say no, you’ll ask why I’m so sure there is this new knowledge to be had.”
    Dan hesitated, seeking a line of approach that might breach that all-too-logical defense. He said finally, “Well, something obviously happened to Leon Patrick. Do you claim to know what it was?”
    Watson took his time over replying, his eyes—very bright—fixed on Dan’s face. He said at last, “Frankly, Mr. Cross, I think you’re a sensation-seeker rather than a serious researcher, but I’ll give you the same answer anyhow because I think Angel might understand it even if you don’t.”
    “So you think you
can
explain what became of Patrick!” Dan snapped, nettled.
    “I didn’t say that. I can
tell
you what happened to him;
explaining
it is something else.” Watson sipped his drink and wiped his lip with the back of his hand. “Quite simply, Leon learned something. But he didn’t get the whole of it. Tell me, have you ever dropped an old-fashioned light bulb, the kind called vacuum-filled?”
    “I don’t think I—oh! The sound?”
    “That’s right”
    Angel was looking from one to other of them, mystified. “Light bulb?” she echoed, puzzled.
    “If someone did physically vanish, there would be an implosion. And a sound like a thunderclap. Displaced air rushing into vacancy.” Dan felt his nape prickle. This was logical, where so many other aspects of the matter had been crazy. He went on, turning to her, “There was no sound when your friend Robin disappeared, was there? Watson, suppose Patrick had vanished silently?”
    “He would answer to ‘Hi!’,” said Angel, and laughed.
    “What?”
    “Carroll.
The Hunting of the Snark
. When the snark proved to be a boojum he softly and silently vanished away.” Angel gulped the rest of her drink and rose. “Sorry. I’d better do exactly that myself. I’m a bit hysterical.”
    “Shall I run you back?” Watson offered. “You live around the corned from Cosmica, don’t you?”
    “Thanks, I have my own car. You stay and answer some more of Dan’s questions. He needs his hand held. He’s scared.”
    With quick irregular steps she went to the street door. As she passed, Jerry Bartlett called after her, but she ignored him. He looked around, caught sight of Watson, and hastened over.
    “I didn’t see you hidden in this corner,” he said. “Wally, I want to talk about Leon. Can I join you?”
    He sat down without waiting for an answer, and Dan had to give up hope of continuing with his own questions as he began to speak with machinegun rapidity.
    “I don’t mind telling you this thing has blown my mind—absolutely blown my mind! I’ve never before been present when somebody went out, of course, and I wasn’tentirely convinced it really happened. Now I’ve witnessed it myself, I’m spinning so fast I’m dizzy. I’ve been talking with Jock, who hadn’t seen it before either, and he fetched up against the same problem I did. We can’t work out the conditions for instantaneous displacement. I mean, it must be instantaneous! If a man-size body were to leave at finite speed the shockwave would probably bring the building down! All we got was this bang consistent with air imploding into a sudden void.”
    “If you spent more time with