Read Ebook: Rat Race by Smith George O George Oliver Cartier Edd Illustrator

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Ebook has 194 lines and 8361 words, and 4 pages

"Oh? Thought that was a fairly respectable place."

"It was," replied Andrews. "But lately--the mouse population has increased. Probably due to the lack of traps created by the war."

Peter nodded. "We had a mousetrap at the lab," he said with a fond smile of reminiscence. Then he told Tony about it, and the other man blinked hungrily. "That good?" he exclaimed.

Peter nodded.

"Can you build another?"

"Sure."

Andrews smiled. "Look," he said. "You are the man who built the Better Mousetrap. But the old platitude isn't good enough. The world will not beat a path to your door unless you make yourself known. This should make you famous."

Peter frowned a bit. "Is it that good?" he asked.

"It has one feature that will outdo all other traps," said Andrews. "In any trap, there is the corpse to dispose of. In this one, there is the disposal system built in. Look, you build one for me, and we'll form a company to build them."

"If you think so."

"I think so. How long will it take?"

"To build another? About an hour once I get the parts. Luckily there's a section of the Central Scientific Company handy. They have most of the stuff."

Andrews withdrew the pencil and it was complete again.

"Great Harry," he shouted. "Where did you get that?"

"That," smiled Peter, "is something out of Campbell by Edward E. Smith."

"Who?"

"Writers of science fiction that turned out millions of words dealing with strange minerals, space warps, and the like. They used to spend their leisure hours thinking up something that would outdo the other. Actually," he said, becoming serious again, "the thing was discovered in our lab during the war. We were working on a closed means of radio communication--a method of wireless connection that would not only prevent the enemy from decoding or unscrambling, but which would be impossible to detect unless you were set up properly. Too many things happened under radio-silence that a means of communication might have prevented. Anyway, in our search for a new level of communications, we got this effect."

"Seems to me that it should be good for something."

"The trouble is that it can't be made any bigger. Once that loop size is changed, the effect is no longer there. We worked on it for about a month and gave it up because there it is and that's all that could be done with it."

"How about using it to pump water out of a sinking ship?"

"Can't fasten anything to the ring," said Peter.

"But the thing that bothers me is where does it go?" asked Andrews, poking his finger through the ring and withdrawing it hastily as he saw the clean-cut cross section.

"Haven't the vaguest idea."

"You haven't worked on it much, then?"

Peter shook his head. "There were a lot of things that had priority," he said. "We had that scheduled for about three years from now, even. Anyway--what are you doing?"

"I'd like to know where the stuff goes," said Andrews.

"How are you going to find out?"

Tony Andrews handed Peter a key ring tag. It was an advertisement for an automobile salesroom, and it stated that any possible finders should merely drop the key ring and chain into the nearest mailbox; that the addressee would pay the postage. It then gave Tony Andrews' name and address and telephone number.

"Think ... if it's found anywhere ... it'll be returned?"

"That's how they sent them out," he said. "Darned good advertisement, too."

"But--"

"Look, Peter, if this ... and it must go somewhere ... lands close by, it'll be returned. Perhaps we'll get a letter, too, telling us where. If it lands in some distant country, we'll probably get it back with a letter telling us that I sure did get around."

"You feel certain that it will land somewhere on earth."

Tony Andrews nodded. "There is no pressure gradient worthy of the name across the face of this," he said. "Though there is a very slight motion of air through the ring. That means that the air pressure on either side of this ding busted ring is about the same. Funny, though, it sort of blows both ways."

Peter nodded. From either side he poked forefingers in. At the plane of cleavage, both fingers passed forward into--through--one another, giving an appearance very much like poking the forefinger into a pool of mercury.

Andrews shuddered. Then he took the little circlet, held the ring sidewise, and dropped the tag from the key ring through it. Through the ring they heard it clang onto the floor.

Peter took the ring from Andrews and put it horizontal, close to the floor. He put a finger through it and probed.

He said: "Ah!" and put thumb and forefinger through the ring and came up with the tag.

"What's down there?" asked Andrews.

"Feels like wood." Peter poked a ruler through and measured the distance. About two inches differed between the concrete of Peter's basement floor and the wood surface of the other.

"We'll lick that," said Peter. "I've got a tiny miniature camera upstairs. We poke it through and take a picture or two."

That was a flat failure, they found. The film came out utterly black. Whether the film was exposed in passing, or whether the "other side" was highly illuminated could not be determined. They could control the light in the cellar so that the partially "gone" camera would not cause exposure of the film. But if the other side were brightly illuminated, there would be an instant where the film was open to the light. They tried for hours, but failed.

Eventually, Andrews took his mousetrap home with him and set it up in the kitchen.

Again, its take was enormous.

Senator Treed entered the hardware store along Connecticut Avenue and asked the clerk for a mousetrap. The clerk looked surprised and said, "But you're living in the Wardman Park Hotel, senator."

"I know. Reputed to be one of the finest hotels in Washington, too. But, there're mice there."

"Hard to believe. Does the management know?"

"Not yet," said the senator quietly. "And say nothing, please. You see, Mrs. Treed and I just returned from a vacation in Wisconsin and we had a large number of packing cases delivered to our suite. It is more than possible that we included a few field mice. I'd hate to be held responsible for bringing mice into the Wardman Park."

The clerk grinned. "Mice in the Wardman Park. That's a national calamity, isn't it?"

Senator Treed scowled. "Young man, this rat plague is a national calamity. You do not realize how bad it really is. An outbreak caused by the war."

"Come now, senator. Don't blame everything on the war."

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