Chapter 2

All that night and the next day I tried to reach someone in authority with my information. The New York City police were admirably calm about my information. My actions and voice, however, seemed to disturb them greatly. When I insisted they investigate the warehouse, they told me the officer on the beat would do so in good time. When I suggested they examine the tokens found on the body they informed me that these had been turned over to the Property Clerk and if not claimed within ninety days would be given to the PAL.

As a last desperate measure I went to the New York office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and presented myself to one of the Federal men. I told him my story. He looked at me calmly, then pored through a thick book on his desk. He closed one eye thoughtfully and peered at me through the other.

"There's really nothing," he said, "that we can do about it."

"Don't you believe me?"

"That has nothing to do with it. According to regulations this is strictly a municipal affair. It doesn't come within the jurisdiction of the FBI. And we wouldn't want to step on municipal toes." He closed the book smartly.

I was crushed. I couldn't believe it. Finally I said, "_Serum est cavendi tempus in mediis malis!_"

"What?"

"'It is too late to be cautious when in the very midst of dangers.' Seneca said that two thousand years ago."

The young man rose and nodded towards the door. "Good day, professor. And an _E pluribus unum_ to you!"

That was an hour ago.

* * * * *

Professor Clarke stopped talking. Jimmy and I said nothing. The only sound was the hum of traffic outside. "And that is the way it is, gentlemen," said Professor Clarke, finally. "_Quando cadet Roma, cadet et mundus._ When Rome falls--the world!" He sipped the beer which by now had gone flat. "Do you believe me?"

Jimmy and I exchanged glances. "Have another beer," said Jimmy. "On the house."

"I see." Professor Clarke sighed. "Well, I cannot really blame you, gentlemen. I only hope you do not live to regret it." He got up and put a coin on the bar. Jimmy went to make change.

Then we became aware of automobile horns blasting steadily on a rising note of urgency. Jimmy and I ran outside. Traffic was piling up rapidly in the street. And as far as we could see in every direction, all the traffic lights had turned green!

"Holy cow!" said Jimmy. "He was telling the truth!"

"So it appears," said a voice at my elbow. I turned. It was the professor. There was a sad, wistful expression on his face. "_Quod erat demonstrandum_," he said softly. "Q.E.D." Then, as the horns got louder, and we could hear drivers cursing, he strode down the street and around the corner.

"Professor!" I yelled. "Wait!" I started to run after him when the horns stopped blowing. Cars started moving again, and many of the traffic lights had turned red.

Jimmy wiped his face in obvious relief. "Must have been a short circuit," he said hoarsely. "But for a minute--"

"Yes," I said. "A short circuit. Or maybe--a dry run to test facilities for the big day?"

Neither one of us said anything, but we both had the same thought as we returned to the bar. I picked up the subway token the professor had left there. I flipped it in the air several times and looked at Jimmy. He nodded in agreement. I went out and headed for the nearest subway.

Q.E.D.?

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from _Analog Science Fact & Fiction_ August 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.