"This force, protomagnetism, had quite a resemblance to the common phenomenon of ferromagnetism. The big difference was that it didn't act on the same substances, and that the force appeared to come from somewhere pretty strange. Where that somewhere was, we didn't know—don't know yet.
"But we built a ship—we called it the Prototype—which had, as its motive power, a piece of the element most favored by protomagnetism. We figured that, soon as we let it, the proto would drag on the element and pull it, together with the attached ship, to whatever place in space it came from. We also have artificial gravity for directing the ship in normal space, and plenty of food and oxygen regenerators— everything we could think of.
"That's the way we'd planned it, and that's the way it worked. I forgot to mention, though, that at the last moment we found we had to ship an extra passenger, a Miss Jocelyn Earle—the female among us—who was a newspaperwoman of sorts.
"Well—we got to the source of proto and found ourselves in a universe of perfect balance—a one hundred percent equipoise of particles distributed evenly through infinite space, each acting equally on every other. But, naturally, we upset all that. Our ship coming into that closed system was plenty sufficient to joggle a few of the particles out of position. Those particles joggled more, and more, and then the whole thing seemed to blow up in our face.
"Anyway, after a couple of false starts into some pretty weird planes and dimensions, we managed to get into this present space-time frame. This wasn't too good either, because we couldn't seem to find a planet by the hit-or-miss method. Planets were too scarce, especially the oxygen-bearing atmosphere-cum-oxidized-hydrogen hydrosphere type—unfortunately, the only type that could do us any good.
"Well—we couldn't find a planet—and we didn't find a planet. This planet reached out and found us. The first thing we knew, there was a tractor beam of sorts on us and we were snatched down out of the sky onto your very lovely world. Then you Gaylens crept up on us and slapped mechanical educators on us and taught us your language at the cost of a couple of bad headaches.
"It was a sort of a fantastic coincidence, we thought; until we found out that Gooper over there had been scanning the heavens for quite a while, looking for a new planet, or a wandering star, or anything that might be important enough to win him recognition. We would be ungrateful to say anything against our savior, but I admit we had some rather generally bitter reactions when we found that practically Gooper's sole reason for dragging us down out of the sky—his sole reason for having been looking at the sky, that is—was the hope of earning himself a name. One of the principal things I would like to do here is to establish our terrestrial system of nomenclature. Your way of giving every babe a serial number for identification, and making each person earn a name by doing something or discovering something of importance to the world may be right enough on a merit basis, but it seems to lead to complications.
"So Gooper—the one who found us—is now known as Gaynor-Clair. To avoid confusion he is known among us as Cooper."
II. Jocelyn Plays with Fire
"Thank you," said Gooper. "It's turned off now. You have made a valuable contribution to our knowledge, friends. But may I impose on your generosity with your time a little further?"
"Might as well," said Clair bitterly.
"A committee of our scientists wish to examine your ship, the Prototype. Will you explain to them its various functions?"
"Sure," said Gaynor. "Let's go."
They mounted the ramp and traveled a short distance.
Waiting for them was a group of about eight of their hosts, and Cooper introduced them hastily. Practically all of them had names—an accurate index of the scientific prowess of the group. One, a short, sweet-faced female, had been honored with the name of Ionic Intersection for an outstanding discovery she had made in that field. As Cooper presented her to Clair they both smiled.
"We've met already," said Clair.
"To put it mildly," laughed the girl. The Earthman shot her a warning look and muttered a word which Gaynor couldn't quite hear—though he tried. So Gaynor began the lecture by conducting his hosts through the ship.
"It's a bit crowded here," he said, "but, after all, we hadn't planned that it should be big enough to hold more than two. Most of these gadgets—air regenerators, lighting system, and so forth—are undoubtedly familiar enough to you. And Cooper has told me that you know all about artificial gravity—though I'm still waiting for an explanation of why you don't apply it, to commercial uses or to space-travel. But over here—come back into this room, please—is something that I'm pretty sure you don't know anything about." He beamed at Clair—this was the crowning achievement of their joint career.
"Right there. What we call the `protolens.' That's the thing that focusses the force of proto-magnetism on the tiny filament of—of an artificial element, atomic number 99. This element, like all the heavier ones, is—is like— The word he had sought was 'radioactive,' but he fumbled in vain for the Gaylen equivalent. "Say, Art," he said in English, "what's Gaylen for radium?"
Clair was also stymied. "I don't know that I've ever heard it. Will you" (to the Gaylens) "supply us with your word meaning an element of such nature that its atoms break down, forming other elements of lesser atomic weight and giving off—giving off an emanation in the process?"
His hosts only looked blank. Ionic Intersection said, "On our world we have nothing of that nature."
Gaynor turned back to Clair. "How's that, Art? I thought radioactivity was an essential of every element."
"Well, in a way, yes," said his partner thoughtfully. "But only detectably in the very heavy ones. And—Art—now that you think of it, have you seen, or heard any of our pals mention any of the really heavy elements? I haven't—they don't even use mercury in their lab thermometers. Although it would be a lot more efficient and accurate than the thermocouples they do have."
"I see what you mean," Gaynor said excitedly. "All their heavy metals, being heavy and therefore radioactive, have broken down to the lighter ones. Why, Art, we're in an old universe!"
"Probably. Maybe just an old sun, though—after all, the development of an entire universe probably wouldn't be uniform.... So anyway, that might explain a lot of things about these Gaylens—why, with all their knowledge of science, they die like flies to carcinoma and other cancers, for instance. Maybe we've got something we can give them for a present, as a sort of payment for their saving our lives." He smiled amiably at Ionic Intersection as he spoke, and the girl, though not understanding a word of their jabber in a "foreign tongue," smiled back.
Gaynor scratched his head. To the Gaylens he said, "This is going to take time to explain. More time than I'd figured, because this is the key-point of the structure of the Prototype. Let's step outside."
"I'll stay here," said Ionic Intersection. "Provided one of you will be so good as to show me the mechanical features of the ship. I'm not covering electronics any more—I decided to let someone else make a name for himself there."
"Very commendable," said Gaynor busily. "Jocelyn, point things out to the lady and see that nothing happens."
He, Clair, and the others filed out of the ship, and he leaned against the main door, swinging it shut, to continue his lecture.
"Unfortunately," he said, "I cannot demonstrate with a chunk of—of one of the elements I mean since we forgot to bring any along. But perhaps you have observed the phenomenon occasioned by the passing of an electric current through such inert gaseous elements as neon, argon, nitrogen, and so forth?"