Kerls laughed nervously. "Oh, you're joking! It is impressive, ain't it?"
"Should be," van Skant growled. "You jerks set it up just to impress me."
Kerls looked around helplessly.
Dr. Lorenzo smiled and waved at van Skant. He was very short and thin and had a bald forehead with a great Einsteinian foliage of hair behind the baldness to compensate.
Dr. Mough, very short, stern-faced, his hair cut in stylish bangs across his forehead, grimaced at Kerls.
"You jest, of course?" Kerls said. He danced backward while he cracked his knuckles to the tune of The Pirates of Penzance overture.
"Does this place hire nothing but psychotics?" van Skant said.
"Serendipitous Laboratories hires nothing but the best," Kerls said.
Van Skant stopped and stared. Dr. Lorenzo had poured the contents of a tall beaker into a rubber boot, and Dr. Mough, holding the top of the boot shut, was shaking it.
"I think they're testing out a new type of vulcanizer," Kerls said.
Mough set the boot upright on the floor, and he and Lorenzo stepped back.
The boot, stiff as a sailor at the end of a three-day leave, rumbled. Then it leaped like a kangaroo down the aisle between tables, hit the wall, bounced, and did not fall but erupted.
The brownish fluid sprayed over half of the huge room. Drs. Kerls and van Skant were caught with their mouths open.
"Coffee!" van Skant howled. "You guys are making coffee! On government time!"
"Gee, is that it?" Kerls said, licking his lips. "Not bad. Better than what they usually make. But they were actually trying to make instant cement. Hyungh! Hyungh!"
Van Skant wiped the brown stuff from his face with a handkerchief.
"I'll shut this place down! Cut off the Federal funds! You're working on a government contract to combat pollution!"
Dr. Mough, the little man with the bangs, said, "Quite true, my dear Dr. van Skant. But we're on our coffee break, and we don't have to account for what we do then." He turned to Dr. Kerls. "Clean this mess up."
Kerls looked indignant. "Me? You and Lorenzo made the mess."
Mough made the peace sign with his two fingers, poked Kerls in the eyes with them, rapped him on the head with the butt of his palm, punched him in the belly, and hammered his forehead again when Kerls doubled up.
"Don't talk back to the assistant project director!"
Kerls staggered off while van Skant, goggle-eyed, watched him.
"Not too much trouble with discipline here," Dr. Mough said. "We run a tight ship."
Van Skant followed Mough. Kerls seemed to be alleviating his pain with liquid from a flask he had taken from his hip pocket.
"Inspiration is found in many places," Mough said, noting van Skant's questioning expression. "Dr. Kerls often comes up with an idea after drinking from his fount of wisdom, as he calls it, hah, hah!"
"I wish to see Dr. Legzenbreins immediately," van Skant said.
"Yeah, there she is, just going into her office," Dr. Mough said. "Ain't she too much? I'm in love with her, and so are my two colleagues, the imbeciles! But she's too dedicated to get married as yet. She's a beautiful young scientist."
"And who's that?" van Skant said, pointing at a huge, pimply-faced girl in a laboratory coat who had just waddled out of the office.
"That's her mad daughter."
"Mad? You mean, angry?"
"Nuts," Mough said. "Oh, I don't mean to you, Doctor! She's nuts, out of her skull, real woo-woo, you know. But a brilliant idea man! She's the one thought of the moths."
"That figures," van Skant said.
As he put the handkerchief back in his pocket, he felt something flutter. The insect that he removed and threw away was a large white moth with a scoop-shaped mouth. It flapped around and around the big room until it passed through the steam from an open tube in which bubbled a dark red liquid.
The moth dropped as if it had had a heart attack and fell into the tube, where it disintegrated.
The red liquid turned a bright yellow.
Dr. Lorenzo yelped, apparently with delight, and he motioned for his colleagues and the fat girl to hasten to the tube. Kerls had just picked up a ten-footlong glass pipe to fit onto a partially assembled setup. He turned when Lorenzo yelled, and the end of the pipe swung around and struck Mough in the back of his head. The cracking noise carried across the huge room.
Kerls dropped the pipe on Mough's head as he struggled to get up from the floor. Kerls ran, ducked behind a table, and reappeared by Lorenzo.
Mough staggered up off the floor, feeling the back of his head.
Van Skant strode up to the group, pushing his big belly as if it contained mail from the President, and he said, "What's so interesting?"
Mough's eyes had lost their glaze by then. He was looking suspiciously at Kerls, who was bending over the tube, rubbing his hands, and humming. Mough said, "Ah, Dr. van Skant, I presume? Yes, the moth undoubtedly contains the missing element, or elements, or combination thereof. We've been looking for a long time..."
"On government time?"
"On our lunch hour," Dr. Lorenzo said.
"It'll be easier just to use moths than to try to analyze a moth and determine the particular stuff responsible for the reaction," Dr. Kerls said. "Hyungh! Hyungh!"
"No trouble there," Dr. Lorenzo said. "We just send the janitor outside with a shovel and a bucket."
"What is that stuff?" Dr. van Skant bellowed, his face red.
"A universal solvent," Dr. Mough said, smiling proudly.
Van Skant struggled for breath and then pointed his finger at the tube. "A universal solvent? But that tube..."
"Oh, the reaction takes time," Kerls said, cracking his knuckles and then looking at his wristwatch, the large white-gloved hands of which were at 12:32. "In fact..."
The tube disappeared, and the yellow fluid splashed over the mica-topped table.
One corner of the table and a leg were gone.
A hole appeared in the floor, and a scream from the room below came up through it. And then, far below, there was a hiss of severed steam pipes. Presently, intermingled with the hiss, was a gurgle. A moment later, a splash.
"Possibly sheared plumbing," Dr. Mough said, smiling.
Van Skant's face had turned from red to gray.
"My God!" he yelled when he had finally gotten his breath again. "It'll go all the way to the center of the Earth!"
Dr. Mough passed his hand over his bangs and his face and then cried, "You jerks! You shoulda used less solvent like I told you!"
Kerls was on his right; Lorenzo, his left. His fists caught each in the mouth simultaneously, and they staggered back clutching their faces.
"How deep will that stuff really go?" van Skant screamed.
Mough blinked, rubbed the back of his head, and said, "What? Oh, that! The solvent evaporates within half an hour, so there's no problem there."
A low rumbling noise shook the building, and then the hole in the floor gushed black liquid.
Later on, after much litigation it was established that the oil well was the property of the Federal government. A few days after the suit was settled, very little mattered. But that was some time in the future.
Van Skant, in his report, admitted that he didn't remember much of anything from the moment he heard the rumble. He thought that Dr. Kerls had picked up a big plastic pipe to insert into the hole in the floor as a plug. He thought, but could not swear to it, that the end of the pipe had struck him across the forehead when Dr. Kerls turned around with it on his shoulder. He made a very poor witness for the government, and so the suit against Serendipitous Laboratories and its head, the beautiful young scientist, Dr. Legzenbreins, was dropped.
By the time that Serendipitous had moved into a new building, the oil well had been capped and Southern California was cleansed of its moths. Dr. Mough, during a news interview, said, "How were my colleagues and I to know that one of the atmospheric toxics which the moths were muta
ted to eat would be a sex stimulant and that the mutants would breed entirely out of hand? Uh, please don't quote that last remark."
Dr. Mough revealed that Serendipitous was mutating bats which could, as it were, vacuum-clean the air. The company was also mutating goats to eat land pollutants and refuse, and sharks which would digest oceanic pollutants.
At that very moment, Dr. Legzenbreins was in her office with her daughter.
"I need a man," Desdemona whined.
"Who doesn't?" her mother said.
Desdemona blew out her bubble gum and looked cross-eyed at the iridescent bubble. Her mother became tense. Was Desdemona getting another fabulous idea?
The big bubble collapsed into the big mouth.
"You need a man?" Desdemona said. "You? The most beautiful woman in the world?"
"That's what scares them off," Dr. Legzenbreins said. "And the few that don't scare, the studs with low IQ's, I can't stand. So I'm in as bad a way as you are. Ironic, ain't it?"
"Drs. Kerls, Lorenzo, and Mough would marry you within a minute, and they're Ph.D.'s," the daughter said, drooling.
"They're five feet tall, and I'm six feet two," the mother said. "Besides, I'm not sure they're not punch-drunk."
"They're brilliant!"
"The two states are not necessarily incompatible."
"I don't want big words. I want a man. I'm twenty-five!"
"I have a man for you," the mother said. "A psychoanalyst."
She added, "In a very high-class private sanitorium."
But she did not mean it. Her daughter provided the creative genius of Serendipitous. She herself, though a genius, was basically an analytic scientist, and her three assistants were basically synthesizers. Without madness, science would get no place, and Dr. Legzenbreins knew it.
She put on a very tight peekaboo dress and called in the three for a conference.
"I won't marry until my daughter marries and quits bugging me about her sex life or lack thereof. I'd suggest a lover. But she is, as you know, quite insane, and insists on remaining a virgin until she has a husband. Now, each of you goofballs has asked me many times to marry him."
Dr. Kerls stood up, danced backward, cracked his knuckles, and said, "I repeat my offer."
Dr. Mough kicked him in the knee and slapped him twice in the face before he hit the floor. As Dr. Kerls tried to get up, he was hit on the head with the coffee tray, which bent to form a semihelmet.
"Don't interrupt!" Dr. Mough said.
Dr. Legzenbreins told them what they must do. There was a long silence when she had finished. It was finally broken by Desdemona's "Eureka!" from the laboratory. At any other time, all would have stampeded through the door to find out what new idea she had just stubbed her mental toe on.
Dr. Legzenbreins leaned back and stretched her arms out and arched her back.
"The two survivors, uh, the two that don't marry her, will be permitted to put their names on my marriage lottery list."
Dr. Mough grabbed Dr. Lorenzo's bushy hair and yanked out a fistful. Lorenzo screamed and grabbed the top of his head and moaned.
"Don't ever let me catch you looking at her again like that," Mough said. "It ain't decent."
"Thank you, Dr. Mough," she said. "I can't stand naked lust. Especially in a scientist. It's so unprofessional."
"My pleasure," Dr. Mough said, beaming.
"What I don't like about this," Dr. Kerls said, shrinking away from Mough, "is that the loser has to settle for Desdemona."
"Is any sacrifice too great for Science?" Dr. Mough said, shuddering.
"What's Science got to do with this?" Kerls said. "Unless everything reminds you of Science?"
Dr. Legzenbreins said, "I leave it up to you gentlemen to decide who's going to be put on the, uh, go to the altar with her."
She rose and stretched again, and the three moaned.
"Shall we see what Desdemona has thought of this time?"
"I was thinking," Desdemona said, "that this food tastes more like sawdust every day. So I was going to have to find another delicatessen. And men I thought, sawdust. Termites eat wood and get fat on it. Their guts contain protozoa, you know, them teeny little parasitical animals. Protozoa use enzymes to digest the cellulose in the wood and convert it into stuff fit to digest. OK, so thousands of tons of sawdust and chips of wood are just thrown away every year. Why couldn't these be saved and fed to people? If..."
"If we could mutate protozoa to live in the human gut, right?" Dr. Lorenzo said.
Dr. Mough banged him on the forehead with his fist.
"Imbecile! How do you get people to eat wood?"
"You make it palatable, indeed, delicious," Desdemona said.
"Just what I was about to say in reply to my rhetorical question," Dr. Mough said.
"I wish you'd just give me rhetorical blows," Dr. Lorenzo said. "Them real blows hurt, you know."
"If I quit hitting you, you'd say I didn't love you no more," Dr. Mough said. "Quit bellyaching; get to work."
Desdemona, being mad, could not be trusted to work with the dangerous chemicals and expensive apparatus. But she was permitted to use cheap chemicals and equipment while searching for something to make sawdust tasty. Dr. Kerls supervised her every move. As Dr. Mough later said, this was a fortunate decision on his part, even though he was criticized for making Dr. Kerls her watchdog.
Dr. Kerls, carrying a long glass pipe to attach to Desdemona's setup, turned around when Dr. Mough called to him. The pipe knocked over a tube of hydrocyanic acid onto Desdemona's experiment for the day. The result was a minor explosion which caused Dr. Kerls to whirl around and bang Dr. Lorenzo across the eyes with the pipe and a salt which, sprinkled over sawdust, would bring tears of joy to a gourmet. Sawdust hamburgers became Desdemona's favorite food.
She forgot that she needed protozoa to convert cellulose into food and that the protozoa had not been successfully mutated yet so it could live in the human gut. She lost weight. But the sad thing was that she was as ugly as ever, if not more so. The fat had hidden a very unaesthetic bone structure.
"Takes after her father," Dr. Legzenbreins said.
One day, Dr. Kerls sneezed into a test tube of protozoa, and the next day the animalcules were turning sawdust into protein. Desdemona drank a cupful of the little beasts and soon began to gain weight on a diet that only a termite should have loved.
A week later, Dr. Lorenzo got mad at Dr. Mough and threw a beaker of protozoa at him. Mough ducked, and the beaker flew through the door of the men's room as Dr. Kerls stepped out. Dr. Mough said there was nothing to worry about, even if the protozoa were circulating in the city's sewage system. The protozoa couldn't get back into the drinking water, and what if they did?
The next day, Dr. van Skant called them all in and asked for a progress report on the antipollution projects.
"Eureka!" Desdemona cried, interrupting the conference.
"How about a virus which you can put into gasoline or any fuels burned in cars and factories? It's quiescent until blown out the exhaust with the gases. Then it combines with the gases to render them physically inert, or it attacks the pollutants and decomposes them rapidly. You kill the toxics at the source. The viruses multiply as they float through the air, and they continue to eat up the combustion products. And we can make aquatic viruses for the rivers, lakes, and oceans."
The three scientists shook hands with each other while the mother beamed at the daughter.
Van Skant said, "That's fine. But I want a report on what's been done, not on what you're going to do in some cloud-cuckoo-land future."
"Certainly, step this way," Dr. Mough said.
He led the Federal man to a large table on which was a complicated array of very busy apparatus.
"My colleagues and I have put in many hours toiling to build this thingamajig. It's designed to make a substance to coat lungs. This coating will filter out the air pollutants and admit only pure air. How's that grab you, Doctor?"
"I don't k
now," van Skant said slowly. "There's something wrong in your approach to the pollution problem. But I can't quite put my finger on it."
Mough and van Skant put on protective suits and went into the biological room. There Mough showed him the mutated bats, sharks, and winged goats.
"You'll notice the goats don't have any feet," Dr. Mough said. "That means that they have to fly to get from one place to another on land. And while they're flying, being big animals, they're really breathing hard to keep themselves aloft. So they take in vast quantities of polluted air, and their specialized stomachs and lungs burn up the bad stuff. That leaves a swath of clean air behind them. What the winged goats don't get, the bats will. Or maybe it's the other way around."
"Wouldn't flying elephants burn up even more bad air?" van Skant said, sneering.
"Please don't be absurd," Dr. Mough said.
"There's something I can't quite put my finger on," van Skant said, shaking his head.
Dr. Mough didn't tell him, but the thingamajig was also being used as a matrimonial roulette wheel. There were three special chemicals in the setup, each of which was presently colorless but would eventually change into a primary color. One would be red; one, purple; one, green. Mough's color was red; Lorenzo's, purple; Kerls's, green. A random selector had dumped the chemicals into the setup, and so the three colleagues did not know which chemical would change color first. It was all up to chance.
The man whose color appeared first would win Desdemona's hand.
"And, God help him, the rest of her!" moaned Dr. Mough.
One day, the winged goats were gone, having eaten through the steel bars and the glass walls imprisoning them.
Several days later, the three scientists and Desdemona were having lunch in the laboratory when Dr. Legzenbreins walked out of her office. She was completely covered with a helmet and suit, being on her way to the virus section to run a late phase of an experiment. She waved at the group as she went by; the men stopped eating to groan and moan.
A moment later, Dr. van Skant, purple-faced, charged into the room.
"You're closed down!" he bellowed. "Your goddamn flying goats ate half my car in the parking lot! This is the last straw! I'm canceling all your government contracts!"