"William Morrison - Disappointment" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrison William)

about."
"The one you mention in your articles, Doc. The one that produced those surface changes you wrote
about. Hand it over."
"I am trying to tell you that I am not Doctor Payne. And furthermore—"
At this point, Payne entered, his eyes seeming to look through the revolver, the bullets with which it
was loaded, and the wall behind it. "I thought I heard someone mention my name."
"So you're Doctor Payne. Okay, you hand over that formula."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," said Payne apologetically. "It wouldn't do to have my methods become
general knowledge. Not at this stage. And I think that you'd better let me hold that revolver for you. It's a
dangerous weapon, you know."
He reached for the weapon, and the man drew back, a little baffled at the casualness of his behavior.
"Hold it, Doc. I'm serious in wanting that formula. And don't crowd me, or I'll shoot."
"That's absurd," said Payne, and snatched at the gun.
The revolver exploded in what seemed like a continuous roar, and Horton Perry dived behind the
desk. The bullets struck his son-in-law in the chest, but Payne did not fall. He merely staggered slightly
under their impact, as they ricocheted from his body and fell to the floor.
It was the kind of thing Horton had never seen except in his secret reading of comic books, and he
refused to believe it even though it was taking place before his eyes. The would-be burglar seemed to
feel the same way about it. His eyes were wide and glassy, and he was swallowing nervously, his mouth
open, and his breath coming through it as if he were a child seeing a stage magician for the first time.

SUDDENLY the miscreant snapped out of his stupor. Reversing the revolver, he struck Payne over
the head with it. Payne staggered again, and seemed annoyed. The revolver butt shattered, and fell to the
floor.
The man was running for his life, when Payne threw a handful of cashews at him. Three of them
caught him on the head, and he gave a howl of pain. Then he was gone, and Payne turned to face his
father-in-law.
"You—you aren't hurt?" Perry asked doubtfully.
"Of course not. Those bullets couldn't penetrate my skin."
"It wasn't a trick? I mean, you didn't hypnotize me, and make me think I saw all this?"
"I can't hypnotize any one. I had simply treated my own skin by the same method I had developed
for use on those cashews. It is now impenetrable by ordinary means."
"The same as the cashews?"
"Well, yes."
"You haven't advanced an inch in solving that problem we talked about last year?"
"The theoretical questions involved are much more complicated than I had thought," Payne said
absently. "I think that if you read my papers—"
"I've tried to. I can't."
"Yes, that's the trouble with our educational system. Imagine an adult—"
"Don't make any dirty cracks about my education!" cried Perry.
"I had no intention of being insulting. What troubles me is, that I don't know how I can explain.
Fundamentally, it's a matter of surface forces. If we can align the atoms or groups of atoms, eliminate tiny
cracks, and do away with a certain anisotropy—"
"What?"
"Do away with directional weakness. In many substances, certain directions are weaker than others.
It's easier to split wood or cut steak with the grain than against it, to split crystals along certain planes
than along others. and so on. That's why part of the task is to realign the atoms in such a way as to do
away with directional weakness, or anisotropy."
"You can do that?"
"You've seen the results."