To Ride Pegasus

“Ahem. When my heli-jet landed at North East University, I and my party were physically restrained by Dr.

Henry Rizor, the Research Dean and members of his staff, from conducting our investigation of their project on the specious grounds that a precog had been issued, predicting a flaming death for me and my party, due to a faulty heat converter which was supposed to explode. Well, gentlemen, I fathomed this little trap immediately.”

“Whoa, whoa, Mansfield,” Robert Teague said, tapping the material now in front of him. “The precog reports I have here…by God, I’m getting so I don’t need an expert to translate them for me anymore…indicate that’s exactly what was to have happened. At…ah, shortly before noon. When did you arrive at

North East?”

“ Quarter to twelve.”

“Then you’d’ve been in the building around twelve. I’d say you owed these precogs your life.”

“My life? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not. You are,” Teague replied with considerable exasperation.

“I’m no fool, Bob. I know when I’m being had, in spite of all the forged records going. The whole business was rigged. Heat converters don’t blow.”

“Right, so how could one be rigged to blow at precisely twelve noon at North

East when no one, including yourself, knew when or where you were going that morning until 10:12?”

“A flaw was discovered when the heat converter was dismantled: air bubble in the steel tank,” Joel Andres said, passing another affidavit to Teague. “The main chamber has been replaced. It could have blown, through that air-bubble flaw, under just such circumstances of overload as predicted.”

“But it didn’t!” Zeusman said in a roar.

“No, because it had been turned off to prevent such an occurrence.”

“Exactly. The whole thing was a hoax. Ten-twelve, twelve noon, whatever. And,”

Zeusman rattled the words out so loud and so fast that no one could interrupt him, “in turning off that so-called faulty converter, the experiment then in progress, paid for by government funds, was ruined just before what was certain to be a successful conclusion of a highly delicate, valuable project. I’ve papers of my own to present”-he dramatically flung stapled sheets to the table- “despositions from the various qualified, highly trained, highly reputable scientists in charge of the neo-protein research. And here is where these…these meddling godlets overreach themselves. That neo-protein research, so rudely interrupted on the brink of success would have produced, by scientific methods-accurate, repeatable, proven-a substance that would prevent certain all-too-common and terribly painful deaths due to liver failure. Prevent an agonizing death facing a certain member of this august Committee. And, if these precogs are so omniscient, so benign, so altruistic, so wise, why-I ask you, why, did they not foresee the effects of their own meddling on their avowed champion?”

Op Owen’s altruism and benignity hit an all-time low and he found himself obsessed with an intense desire to turn kinetic and clog Zeusman’s windpipe permanently.

“Ah ha,” crowed Joel Andres, leaping to his feet, “why should they foresee my demise, my dear colleague? Due to liver failure? How interesting! Of course, you have a paper to prove it, Senator, such as my death certificate?”

“Easy, Joel,” said McNabb, squinting at Andres keenly, “Anyone can see you’re healthy as a hog, though I must admit you had been looking a bit jaundiced. You look great now, though.”

“But I had a report that he was dying of liver failure,” Zeusman said.

“Got that authenticated?” Teague asked sarcastically.

“Easy, Bob. We know Mansfield ’s been doing the job he was elected to do, protect his constituents and this country. That used to be as easy to do,” McNabb paused to drag on his pipe, “as finding decent substitute tobacco. But Mansfield proved that was bad for most of us.”

“We’re discussing experts, not tobacco,” Zeusman reminded him.

“No, we’re discussing progress, on a level some of us find as hard to take as giving up tobacco. However, it was proved that tobacco was unhealthy. These people have proved that their Centers protect health and property, and they go about it scientifically. Everything I’ve heard today,” and McNabb jerked his pipe stem at Zeusman as the latter started to interrupt, “proves conclusively to me that you’ve been putting the wrong eggs in the right basket. That precog was for your health and well-being, Mansfield, which these people are pledged to protect: you didn’t have to take the warning…”

“I was forced…”

“Lots of us were forced to stop smoking, too,” McNabb said, grinning. “This artificial stuff still doesn’t taste right but I know it’s better for me.

“Most important of all, Mansfield, and it seems to have completely escaped your logical, scientific, one-track mind, is the very fact that these people warned you! Whether they knew the consequences to Joel Andres or not if they also stopped the experiment, they had to warn you and your party! So stop your maundering on about their ethics and meddling. I’d’ve let you burn!”