The Foundations of Paradise - Arthur C. Clarke [20]
Morgan had now produced the metal box that had allowed him to perform his miracle. Its only features were a few buttons, and a small read-out panel. It looked for all the world like some form of simple communications device.
“This is it,” he said proudly. “Since you saw me make a hundred-meter vertical walk, you must have a very good idea how it operates.”
“Common sense gave me one answer, but even my excellent telescope didn’t confirm it. I could have sworn there was absolutely nothing supporting you.”
“That wasn’t the demonstration I’d intended, but it must have been effective. Now for my standard sales pitch. Please hook your finger through this ring.”
Rajasinghe hesitated. Morgan was holding the small metal torus—about twice the size of an ordinary wedding ring—almost as if it were electrified.
“Will it give me a shock?” he asked.
“Not a shock—but perhaps a surprise. Try to pull it away from me.”
Rather gingerly, Rajasinghe took hold of the ring—then almost dropped it. It seemed alive; it was straining toward Morgan—or, rather, toward the box that the engineer was holding in his hand. Then the box gave a slight whirring noise, and Rajasinghe felt his finger being dragged forward by some mysterious force. Magnetism? he asked himself. Of course not; no magnets could behave in this fashion. His tentative but improbable theory was correct; indeed, there was really no alternative explanation. They were engaged in a perfectly straightforward tug-of-war—but with an invisible rope.
Though Rajasinghe strained his eyes, he could see no trace of any thread or wire connecting the ring through which his finger was hooked and the box that Morgan was operating much like a fisherman reeling in his catch. He reached out his free hand to explore the apparently empty space, but the engineer quickly knocked it away.
“Sorry!” he said. “Everyone tries that, when they realize what’s happening. You could cut yourself very badly.”
“So you do have an invisible wire. Clever—but what use is it, except for parlor tricks?”
Morgan gave a broad smile.
“I can’t blame you for jumping to that conclusion; it’s the usual reaction. But it’s quite wrong. The reason you can’t see this sample is that it’s only a few microns thick. Much thinner than a spider’s web.”
For once, thought Rajasinghe, an overworked adjective was fully justified.
“That’s—incredible. What is it?”
“The result of about two hundred years of solid-state physics. For whatever good that does, it’s a continuous pseudo-one-dimensional diamond crystal—though it’s not actually pure carbon. There are several trace elements in carefully controlled amounts. It can be mass-produced only in the orbiting factories, where there’s no gravity to interfere with the growth process.”
“Fascinating,” whispered Rajasinghe, almost to himself. He gave little tugs on the ring hooked around his finger, to test that the tension was still there and that he was not hallucinating. “I can appreciate that this may have all sorts of technical applications. It would make a splendid cheese cutter.”
Morgan laughed.
“One man can bring a tree down with it, in a couple of minutes. But it’s tricky to handle—even dangerous. We’ve had to design special dispensers to spool and unspool it. We call them ‘spinnerettes.’ This is a power-operated one, made for demonstration purposes. The motor can lift a couple of hundred kilos, and I’m always finding new uses for it. Today’s little exploit wasn’t the first, by any means.”
Almost reluctantly, Rajasinghe unhooked his finger from the ring. It started to fall, then swung back and forth like a pendulum without visible means of support until Morgan pressed a button and the spinnerette reeled it in with a gentle whirr.
“You haven’t come all this way, Dr. Morgan, just to impress me with this latest marvel of science—though I am impressed. I want to know what all this has to do with me.”
“A great deal, Mr.