"Not a word, thank the Stars. If I even attempted to, I should bark like a dog for sheer pain of the intellect."
"Hmp. Well, in any case, what we call nerve impulses are merely the progressive electronic unbalance that proceeds along the nerves to the brain and then from the brain back along the nerves. Do you get that?"
"Yes."
"Well, blessings on you for a genius, then. As long as this impulse continues along a nerve cell, it proceeds at a rapid rate, since the neuroproteins are practically in contact. However, nerve cells are limited in extent, and between each nerve cell and the next is a very thin partition of non-nervous tissue. In other words, two adjoining nerve cells do not actually connect with each other."
"Ah," said Ennius, "and the nervous impulse must jump the barrier."
"Exactly! The partition drops the strength of the impulse and slows the speed of its transmission according to the square of the width thereof. This holds for the brain as well. But imagine, now, if some means could be found to lower the dialectric constant of this partition between the cells."
"That what constant?"
"The insulating strength of the partition. That's all I mean. If that were decreased, the impulse would jump the gap more easily. You would think faster and learn faster."
"Well, then, I come back to my original question. Does it work?"
"I have tried the instrument on animals."
"And with what result?"
"Why, that most die very quickly of denaturation of brain protein-coagulation, in other words, like hard-boiling an egg."
Ennius winced. "There is something ineffably cruel about the cold-bloodedness of science. What about those that didn't die?"
"Not conclusive, since they're not human beings. The burden of the evidence seems to be favorable, for them...But I need humans. You see, it is a matter of the natural electronic properties of the individual brain. Each brain gives rise to microcurrents of a certain type. None are exactly duplicates. They're like fingerprints, or the blood-vessel patterns of the retina. If anything, they're even more individual. The treatment, I believe, must take that into account, and, if I am right, there will be no more denaturation...But I have no human beings on whom to experiment. I ask for volunteers, but-" He spread his hands.
"I certainly don't blame them, old man," said Ennius. "But seriously, should the instrument be perfected, what do you intend doing with it?"
The physicist shrugged. "That's not for me to say. It would be up to the Grand Council, of course."
"You would not consider making the invention available to the Empire?"
"I? I have no objections at all. But only the Grand Council has jurisdiction over-"
"Oh," said Ennius with impatience, "the devil with your Grand Council. I have had dealings with them before. Would you be willing to talk to them at the proper time?"
"Why, what influence could I possible have?"
"You might tell them that if Earth could produce a Synapsifier that would be applicable to human beings in complete safety, and if the device were made available to the Galaxy, then some of the restrictions on emigration to other planets might be broken down."
"What," said Shekt sarcastically, "and risk epidemics and our differentness and our non-humanity?"
"You might," said Ennius quietly, "even be removed en masse to another planet. Consider it." The door opened at this point and a young lady brushed her way in past the book-film cabinet. She destroyed the musty atmosphere of the cloistered study with an automatic breath of spring. At the sight of a stranger she reddened slightly and turned.
"Come in, Pola," called Shekt hastily. "My Lord," he said to Ennius, "I believe you have never met my daughter. Pola this is Lord Ennius, Procurator of Earth."
The Procurator was on his feet with an easy gallantry that negated her first wild attempt at a curtsy.
"My dear Miss Shekt," he said, "you are an ornament I did not believe Earth capable of producing. You would, indeed, be an ornament on any world I can think of."
He took Pola's hand, which was quickly and somewhat bashfully extended to meet his gesture. For a moment Ennius made as if to kiss it, in the courtly fashion of the past generation, but the intention, if such it was, never came to fruition. Half lifted, the hand was released-a trace too quickly, perhaps.
Pola, with the slightest of frowns, said, "I'm overwhelmed at your kindness, my Lord, to a simple girl of Earth. You are brave and gallant to dare infection as you do."
Shekt cleared his throat and interrupted. "My daughter, Procurator, is completing her studies at the University of Chica and is obtaining some needed field credits by spending two days a week in my laboratory as a technician. A competent girl, and though I say it with the pride of a father, she may someday sit in my place."
"Father," said Pola gently, "I have some important information for you." She hesitated.
"Shall I leave?" said Ennius quietly.
"No, no," said Shekt. "What is it, Pola?"
The girl said, "We have a volunteer, Father."
Shekt stared, almost stupidly. "For the Synapsifier?"
"So he says."
"Well," said Ennius, "I bring you good fortune, I see."
"So it would seem. " Shekt turned to his daughter. "Tell him to wait. Take him to Room C, and I'll be with him soon."
He turned to Ennius after Pola left. "Will you excuse me, Procurator?"
"Certainly. How long does the operation take?"