Twistor by Gene; John; Wolfe Cramer Read Free Book Online

Vickie,' said Sam. 'G'night!'
    Victoria turned back to the control console as the door shut. She moused up the supervisor program on the control computer and clicked the data file containing the settings that David had been using. Then she set the oscillator to manual and slowly turned the black knob to change the frequency while she watched the vacuum gauge. As she tuned, the gauge abruptly dropped to the 10 -9 scale. The spurious vacuum improvement again: the problem was still there. 'Shit!' she said to no one in particular.
    She had an idea. Maybe this frequency wasn't unique. She slowly swept the drive frequency from one end of the oscillator range to another, watching the meter. Only at the one value that David had found did the vacuum meter drop. She changed the oscillator range switch and tried again. As she tuned, the meter took an abrupt drop. She backed over the frequency several times to check that it was really there, then noted its value in the logbook.
    Reaching for the black knob, she continued the search. At another frequency the meter dipped again. She blinked. Curiouser and curiouser, she said to herself as she recorded the third new frequency in the logbook.
    Returning from the children's rooms, Elizabeth smiled at David. That was a nice story, David. You haven't lost your touch. Where'd you get this one? I don't think I've encountered it before.'
    'It's funny, Elizabeth,' David replied. 'I don't actually remember. When I was a kid I was absolutely fascinated with mythology and folklore. On my tenth birthday my mother bought me good facsimile reproductions of all twelve of Andrew Lang's
Fairy Books
that were originally published in England around the turn of the century. You know,
The Blue Fairy Book, The Green Fairy Book, The Crimson, The Lilac,
and all the others. They had beautiful pictures and wonderful stories, and I practically memorized them. I think maybe that's where I read this story. It sounds a bit like "Aladdin" from the
Arabian Nights
or Hans Christian Andersen's "Tinderbox," but it's different from both of them. Tonight it just popped into my head. I'm not sure I was remembering all the details; I may have improvised a bit.'
    'It was a seamless, polished delivery,' said Elizabeth, still considering the psychological implications of the story. She thought it was good for David to tell stories to the children, and she enjoyed listening for clues to his inner conflicts. 'You know, David, you're very good with children. Which reminds me, how are you and Sarah doing? I don't believe I've heard you mention her lately.'
    'Sarah and I are
finito,
as of a couple of weeks ago,' said David. ' I think it's the Curse of the Harrisons at work again.'
    The Curse of the Harrisons?' Elizabeth frowned. That sounds like a bad gothic romance. What is it?'
    'It's an infirmity which has afflicted most of the male members of my family for generations,' said David. ' We have a weakness for intelligent women. But we're not very tolerant, I'm afraid. Quirks, hang-ups, and neuroses drive us right up the wall. I'm still looking for a lady who's smart
and
well adjusted. But our society does terrible things to the psyches of adolescent females who betray the stigmata of intelligence. Nothing against Sarah. She's a fine person. I was just hoping she was different.
    ' So the bottom line, Elizabeth, is that Sarah and I have decided to go our separate ways. She had become increasingly jealous of the long hours that I put in at the lab. It got so we argued all the time when we were together. I suppose it's just as well. During this present rather precarious phase of my career it's better that I don't devote too much time to the pursuit of females, intelligent or otherwise. It can be a full-time job.'
    Elizabeth deliberately gave him a pained look. Poor David, she thought, I hope you grow out of it. 'Cheer up,' she said, 'you only have to find one, you know. Your afflicted ancestors seem to have managed it.'
    Just then, Paul,