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But he didn’t. As they strolled under the shiver trees that lined the small town’s highways, and smelled the chanel bushes beyond the town’s limits, and listened to the thin violinlike strains of what should have been night birds—they weren’t; the singers were furry instead of feathered, and they slept in burrows during the day—as they walked with linked fingers in the warm and starlit night, Lon told Cathy about his invention.

He explained in detail just why wires wound in just that fashion, and combined with bits of sheet iron twisted in just those shapes, would produce power for free and forever. He explained how it had to be so. He marveled that nobody had ever thought of it before. He explained it so that Cathy could almost understand it.

“It’s wonderful!” she said wistfully. “They’ll run spaceships on your invention, won’t they, Lon? And cities? And everything! I guess you’ll be very rich for inventing it!”

He stopped short and stared at her. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Then he said blankly: