six hours.”
“That’s simplifying almost too rapidly. From fourteen billion years to six hours?”
“Then into thorium 228 for two years, and radium 224 for three and a half days, and radon 220 for one minute—”
“That’s certainly speeding up! From six hours to one minute. But—”
“And polonium 216 for sixteen one-hundredths of a second—”
“Haven’t we gone about as far—or fast—as we can go?” His eyes had drifted to her thighs again, refuge from the sudden complexity of her listing.
“And lead 212—”
“At last I see the relevance!” he cried with relief.
“Which has a half-life of ten and a half hours.”
“Now wait a minute—or maybe ten and a half hours! I thought lead was the end of the line!”
“Some lead is radioactive. After that it becomes astatine for three ten-thousandths of a second, and bismuth for an hour, and polonium 212 for three ten-millionths of a second. I’m speaking in round figures, of course.”
“Of course,” Knot agreed weakly, eyes locked to her legs. He had declined her physical round figure, so she was battering him with mathematical round figures. He should have known when he was well off.
You’re learning, Hermine’s thought came.
“Then into thallium 208 for three minutes,” Finesse continued as if unaware of the havoc she was wreaking in his mind. “And finally lead 208, which is stable. That’s the thorium series; there’s also the actinium series, which carries through its series of permutations to lead 209. It’s a bit more complicated—”
“I’ll take your word!”
“And the neptunium series, which goes to bismuth 209. And the uranium series, to lead 206. So my point is—”
“That lead in its various forms is the end product of a fantastic exercise of nature. And the leadmuter does it in a single step, in a matter of hours, thereby transcending time as well as matter.”
“But he is not merely accelerating the processes of nature. He is bypassing them, creating lead from substances that are in none of these chains that are not radioactive. In turn he is rendering stable lead into other substances—something that never occurs in nature. Lead is only a stage for him, not the end product. The significance of this ability—”
“I comprehend. This is more of a talent than we thought. We’re just backwater planet mutes. But—”
“Suppose he learned how to transmute radioactive wastes into inert lead? That would solve a problem that has bedeviled man since the onset of the atomic age. That service could be worth more than any precious metals he might make.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Knot admitted, cowed. He had indeed been simplistic in his handling of the leadmuter, relying on the age-old dream of transmuting lead into gold, not realizing that far broader horizons offered.
“CC thought of it, though. That’s CC’s job. To ascertain the maximum value of any mutant’s talent it surveys. It may develop an entirely different use for your leadmuter—one you and I are not even capable of thinking of. None of us have the right to conceal such information from the Coordination Computer.”
Knot was impressed. “I suppose not. But—”
“Now we come to your own psionic talent. Aren’t you even curious what CC has in mind for you?”
“Not the disposition of radioactive wastes?”
“I have no idea. I doubt that forgetting about such wastes would be a good solution, though, so it probably isn’t that. But if you don’t join, you’ll never know, will you?”
Now the electricity outside was abating, and with it the show of leg and shadow. He could depart. But Knot remained. “You think there is anything for me, anywhere close to the value of the transmutation of lead into diamond or whatever? Anything that my forgetting talent could accomplish?” The question was rhetorical; obviously the leadmuter was potentially the most important man in the galaxy.
“All I know is this: the leadmuter
“That’s simplifying almost too rapidly. From fourteen billion years to six hours?”
“Then into thorium 228 for two years, and radium 224 for three and a half days, and radon 220 for one minute—”
“That’s certainly speeding up! From six hours to one minute. But—”
“And polonium 216 for sixteen one-hundredths of a second—”
“Haven’t we gone about as far—or fast—as we can go?” His eyes had drifted to her thighs again, refuge from the sudden complexity of her listing.
“And lead 212—”
“At last I see the relevance!” he cried with relief.
“Which has a half-life of ten and a half hours.”
“Now wait a minute—or maybe ten and a half hours! I thought lead was the end of the line!”
“Some lead is radioactive. After that it becomes astatine for three ten-thousandths of a second, and bismuth for an hour, and polonium 212 for three ten-millionths of a second. I’m speaking in round figures, of course.”
“Of course,” Knot agreed weakly, eyes locked to her legs. He had declined her physical round figure, so she was battering him with mathematical round figures. He should have known when he was well off.
You’re learning, Hermine’s thought came.
“Then into thallium 208 for three minutes,” Finesse continued as if unaware of the havoc she was wreaking in his mind. “And finally lead 208, which is stable. That’s the thorium series; there’s also the actinium series, which carries through its series of permutations to lead 209. It’s a bit more complicated—”
“I’ll take your word!”
“And the neptunium series, which goes to bismuth 209. And the uranium series, to lead 206. So my point is—”
“That lead in its various forms is the end product of a fantastic exercise of nature. And the leadmuter does it in a single step, in a matter of hours, thereby transcending time as well as matter.”
“But he is not merely accelerating the processes of nature. He is bypassing them, creating lead from substances that are in none of these chains that are not radioactive. In turn he is rendering stable lead into other substances—something that never occurs in nature. Lead is only a stage for him, not the end product. The significance of this ability—”
“I comprehend. This is more of a talent than we thought. We’re just backwater planet mutes. But—”
“Suppose he learned how to transmute radioactive wastes into inert lead? That would solve a problem that has bedeviled man since the onset of the atomic age. That service could be worth more than any precious metals he might make.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Knot admitted, cowed. He had indeed been simplistic in his handling of the leadmuter, relying on the age-old dream of transmuting lead into gold, not realizing that far broader horizons offered.
“CC thought of it, though. That’s CC’s job. To ascertain the maximum value of any mutant’s talent it surveys. It may develop an entirely different use for your leadmuter—one you and I are not even capable of thinking of. None of us have the right to conceal such information from the Coordination Computer.”
Knot was impressed. “I suppose not. But—”
“Now we come to your own psionic talent. Aren’t you even curious what CC has in mind for you?”
“Not the disposition of radioactive wastes?”
“I have no idea. I doubt that forgetting about such wastes would be a good solution, though, so it probably isn’t that. But if you don’t join, you’ll never know, will you?”
Now the electricity outside was abating, and with it the show of leg and shadow. He could depart. But Knot remained. “You think there is anything for me, anywhere close to the value of the transmutation of lead into diamond or whatever? Anything that my forgetting talent could accomplish?” The question was rhetorical; obviously the leadmuter was potentially the most important man in the galaxy.
“All I know is this: the leadmuter
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