Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 31: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

60 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION “I certainly do,” Jordan answered, ‘but you have me wrong if you think | I'm here to make excuses or to apologize. Now, if you will get on with my | firing, sir, I'll go home and have my supper.” The chief looked at him for a long minute. “Don’t you care about your | position in the agency?” he asked quietly. | “Sure I do,” Jordan said almost roughly. “It’s the work I wanted to do. all my life. But, as you said, what I did, I did at my own expense. Look, sir, | I don’t like this any better than you do. Why don’t you fire me and let me | go home? Your prisoner’s safely locked up in the ship.” 4 For answer the chief tossed him a stellogram. Jordan glanced at the first | few words and saw that it was from Galactic Headquarters on Earth. He | put it back on the desk without reading it through. | : “I know that I must have kicked up a fuss. You don’t have to spell it out 7 or me.” ‘Read it,” the chief said impatiently. Jordan took back the stellogram and examined it. It read. To: Captain Lawrence Macrae Detection Agency, Grismet. From: Prantal Aminopterin Delegate from Casseiopeia Chairman, § Grismet Peace Committee of the Galactic Senate. Message: You are hereby notified that the committee by a vote of 17-0 | has decided to rescind its order of January 18, 2214, directing the | disposal of the :permallium robots of Grismet. Instead, the committee | directs that you remove from their confinement all the robots and put | them in some safe place where they will be afforded reasonable and § humane treatment. The committee will arrive in Grismet some time during the next month — to decide on permanent disposition. : Jordan’s heart swelled as he read the gram. “It worked,” he said. “They 3 have changed their minds. It won’t be so bad being discharged now.” He | put the paper back on the desk and arose to go. 4 The chief smiled and it was like sunlight suddenly flooding over an arctic | glacier. ‘‘Discharged? Now who’s discharging you? I’d sooner do without ¥ my right arm.” | | He reached in a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of old Earth bourbon | and two glasses. He carefully poured out a shot into each glass, and handed 4 one to Jordan. “I like a man with a heart, and if you get away with it, why then you get _ away with it. And that’s just what you’ve done.”’ : j He sat down and started sipping his whisky. Jordan stood uncertainly § above him, his glass in his hand. a “Sit down, son,” the old man said. “Sit down and tell me about your | adventures on Earth.” Jordan sat down, put his feet on the desk and took a sizable swallow of | his whisky. Oe Larry,” he started, “I got into Earth atmosphere about 2:40 | o’clock—” | j THE END POINT OF DIMINISHING RETURNS 61 POINT OF DININISHING RETURNS (Continued from page 3) But, you see, that is precisely the nature of the most fundamental of all types of research! That’s basic research—research that concerns itself with whether something totally unknown might exist, though its existence, even if proven, would be utterly useless as far as anyone can imagine. It’s research into the utterly, hopelessly, impractically unknown. That always has been, and always will be done by dilettantes and amateurs. It'll be done by crackpots, too—men who have somehow gotten a conviction that “‘zeda rays” do exist, and they’re going to make millions on them, and devote everything they’ve got to the research. The man’s a crackpot all right; it’s not sound to invest everything you’ve got on such a long gamble. The inevitable consequence is that ninety-nine crackpots out of one hundred go broke, and go into oblivion. The hundredth crackpot, of course, turns up with his zeda-ray machine, and makes millions on it, and everybody knows that he wasn’t a crackpot—he was a genius, with greater vision than ordinary men have. He was a crackpot too. Just because a man succeeds in getting over Niagara Falls in a barrel without getting killed does not prove he was wise to try it. if you threw ten million nickles into the air, one of them might land on edge and stand that way; it’s the first time shat nickle tried it, isn’t it? Proves that when that nickle falls, it lands on edge, doesn’t it? A successful crackpot 1s still a crackpot. The dilettante, the amateur, the hobbyist—these are the sources of truly fundamental and basic research. You can afford to risk a certain proportion of your total effort output, even if the thing turns out to be a dead loss, if you’re enjoying the process of trying. The hobbyist gets reward from the process of trying; if he never, in all the years he tries, makes any actual pro- gress whatever, and, over the years, spends $100,000 on it—he is, none the less, a wise, sane researcher. He didn’t try to be a professional; he made his living in a sound, appropriate-degree-of-risk business, and simply spent his entertainment budget on a research project. When the maximum possible loss is zero, and the net cost of research is zero (because it can all be properly charged off to relaxation!), and it is diverting no socially-needed efforts from the world (because relaxation is essential to a healthy mind)—why, any research which does not have absolutely zero probability of reward will be profitable to the society! And no research has zero probability of reward; even if the researcher is headed dead-center for absolutely the wrong direc- lion, he may drop a soldering iron into his glue pot and stumble on a new super-plastic. After all, Goodyear finally vulcanized rubber because he was a bit sloppy, and dropped some of his infernal goo on a hot stove. The hot-rodders are one example of the hobby researchers; that’s their entertainment, and if they never get a nickle ‘Je snendij |p thousands of dollars—they’re getting full reward comicbook cb 869, m