stopped in the middleof a word. The air conditioner whispered into silence.
Then she flipped the catch the other way.
"--fouls the second ball into the screen," the announcer said. Pictureokay. Air conditioner operating. Everything normal except my pulse andrespiration.
"Doreen, sweetheart--" I took a step toward her--"what's in that box?What _is_ an unhappy genii?"
"Not unhappy." You know how scornful an eight-year-old can be? Well, shewas. "Unhap-_pen_. It makes things unhappen. Anything that works byelectracity, it stops. Elmer calls it his unhappen genii. Just for fun."
"Oh, now I get it," I said brightly. "It makes electricity notwork--unhappen. Like television sets and air conditioners andautomobiles and bus engines."
Doreen giggled.
Marge sat bolt upright. "Doreen! _You_ caused that traffic jam? You andthat--that gadget of Elmer's?"
Doreen nodded. "It made all the automobile engines stop, just like Elmersaid. Elmer's never wrong."
Marge looked at me. I looked at Marge.
"A field of some kind," I said. "A field that prevents an electriccurrent from flowing. Meaning no combustion motor using an electricspark can operate. No electric motors. No telephones. No radio or TV."
"Is that important?" Marge asked.
"Important?" I yelled. "Think of the possibilities just as a weapon! Youcould blank out a whole nation's transportation, its communications, itsindustry--"
I got hold of myself. I smiled my best I-love-children smile. "Doreen,"I said, "let me look at Elmer's unhappen genii."
The kid clutched the box.
"Elmer told me not to let anybody look at it. He said he'd statuefy meif I did. He said nobody would understand it anyway. He said he mightshow it to Mr. Einstein, but not anybody else."
"That's Elmer, all right," Marge muttered.
I found myself breathing hard. I edged toward Doreen and put my hand onthe hatbox. "Just one quick look, Doreen," I said. "No one will everknow."
She didn't answer. Just pulled the box away.
I pulled it back.
She pulled.
I pulled.
"Bill--" Marge called warningly. Too late. The lid of the hatbox cameoff in my hands.
* * * * *
There was a bright flash, the smell of insulation burning, and theunhappen genii fell out and scattered all over the floor.
Doreen looked smug. "Now Elmer will be angry at you. Maybe he'lldisintegrate you. Or paralalize you and statuefy you. Forever."
"He might at that, Bill," Marge shuddered. "I wouldn't put anything pasthim."
I wasn't listening. I was scrambling after the mess of tubes, condensersand power packs scattered over the rug. Some of them were still wiredtogether, but most of them had broken loose. Elmer was certainly oneheck of a sloppy workman. Hadn't even soldered the connections. Justtwisted the wires together.
I looked at the stuff in my hands. It made as much sense as a radio runover by a truck.
"We'll take it back to Elmer," I told Doreen, speaking very carefully."I'll give him lots of money to build another. He can come down here anduse our shop. We have lots of nice equipment he'd like."
Doreen tossed her head. "I don't think he'll wanta. He'll be mad at you.Anyway, Elmer is busy working on aggravation now."
"That's for sure!" Marge said in heartfelt tones.
"Aggravation, eh?" I grinned like an idiot. "Well, well! I'll bet he'sgood at it. But let's go see him right away."
"Bill!" Marge signaled me to one side. "Maybe you'd better not try tosee Elmer," she whispered. "I mean, if he can build a thing like this inhis garage, maybe he _can_ build a disintegrator or a paralysis ray orsomething. There's no use taking chances."
"You read too many comics," I laughed it off. "He's only a kid, isn'the? What do you think he is? A superman?"
"Yes," Marge said flatly.
"Look, Marge!" I said in feverish excitement. "I've got to talk toElmer! I've got to get the rights to that TV color lens and thiselectricity interruptor and anything else he may have developed!"
Marge kept trying to protest, but I simply grabbed her and Doreen andhustled them out to my car. Doreen lived in a wooded, hilly section alittle north of White Plains. I made it in ten minutes.
* * * * *
Marge had said Elmer worked in the garage. I kept going up the driveway,swung sharp around the big house--and slammed on the brakes.
Marge screamed.
We skidded to a stop with our front end hanging over what looked like abomb crater in the middle of the driveway.
I swallowed my heart down again, while I backed away fast.
We had almost plunged into a hole forty feet across and twenty feet deepin the middle. The hole was perfectly round, like a half section of agrapefruit.
"What's this?" I asked. "Where's the garage?"
"That's where the garage should be." Marge looked dazed. "But it'sgone!"
I took another look at that hole scooped out with geometrical precision,and turned to Doreen. "What did you say Elmer was working on?"
"Agg--" she sobbed, "agg--agg--aggravation." She began to bawl inearnest. "Now he's gone. He's mad. He won't ever come back, I betcha."
"That's a fact," I muttered. "He may not have been mad, but he certainlywas aggravated. Marge, listen! This is a mystery. We've just got to letit stay a mystery. We don't know anything, understand? The cops willfinally decide Elmer blew himself up, and we'll leave it at that. Onething I'm pretty sure about--he's not coming back."
* * * * *
So that's how it was. Tom Kennedy keeps trying and trying to put Elmer'sunhappen genii back together again. And every time he fails he takes itout on me because I didn't get to Elmer sooner. But you can seeperfectly well he's way off base, trying to make out I could have done athing to prevent what happened.
Is it my fault if the dumb kid didn't know enough to take the properprecautions when he decided to develop anti-gravitation--and got shotoff, garage and all, someplace into outer space?
What do they teach kids nowadays, anyway?
--ROBERT ARTHUR
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ May 1955. 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.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends