With No Strings Attached | Page 3

Sorensen as an
Angry Old Man. Not that he was really getting old; he was still
somewhere on the brisk side of fifty. But he wore a perpetual scowl on
his face that looked as though it had been etched there by too many
years of frustration, and his voice always seemed to have an acid edge
to it, like that of an old man who has decided, after decades of
observation, that all men are fools. And yet Thorn thought he
occasionally caught a glimpse of mocking humor in the pale blue eyes.
He was lean and rather tall, with white hair that still showed traces of
blond, and he looked as Scandinavian as his name sounded. His accent
was pure Minnesota American.
As he climbed out of the jeep, Sorensen brought with him the Black
Suitcase.
Ever since he had first seen it, Thorn had thought of it as "the Black
Suitcase," and after he had seen some of the preliminary tests, he had
subconsciously put capitals to the words. But Richard Thorn was no
fool. Too many men had been suckered before, and he, Richard Thorn,

did not intend to be another sucker, no matter how impressed he might
be by the performance of an invention.
If this was a con game, it was going to have to be a good one to get by
Richard Thorn, Ph.D.
He walked across the few feet of hard, salt-white ground that separated
him from Sorensen standing beside the second jeep with the Black
Suitcase in his hand. It was obvious to anyone who watched the way
Sorensen handled the thing that it was heavy--seventy-five pounds or
better.
"Need any help?" Thorn asked, knowing what the answer would be.
"Nope," Sorensen said. "I can handle it."
The suitcase wasn't really black. It was a dark cordovan brown, made
even darker by long usage, which had added oily stains to the well-used
leather. But Thorn thought of it as the Black Suitcase simply because it
was the perfect example of the proverbial Little Black Box--the box
that Did Things. As a test question in an examination, the Little Black
Box performs a useful function. The examiner draws a symbolic
electronic circuit. Somewhere in the circuit, instead of drawing the
component that is supposed to be there, he draws a Little Black Box.
Then he defines the wave-form, voltage, and amperage entering the
circuit and defines whatever is coming out. Question: What is in the
Little Black Box?
Except in the simplest of cases, there is never an absolute answer. The
question is counted as correct if the student puts into the Little Black
Box a component or subcircuit which will produce the effect desired.
The value of the answer depends on the simplicity and relative
controllability of the component drawn in the place of the Little Black
Box.
Sorensen's Black Suitcase was still a problem to Thorn. He couldn't
quite figure out what was in it.

"Hotter'n Billy Blue Blazes!" Sorensen said as he put the Black
Suitcase down on the gleaming white ground. He grinned a little, which
dispelled for a moment his Angry Old Man expression, and said: "You
ready to go, Mr. Thorn?"
"I'm ready any time you are," Thorn said grumpily.
Sorensen looked at the NAC&M scientist sideways. "You don't sound
any happier'n I am, Mr. Thorn."
Thorn looked at him and thought he could see that flash of odd humor
in his light blue eyes. Thorn exhaled a heavy breath. "I'm no happier
than you are to be out in this heat. Let's get on with it."
Sorensen's chuckle sounded so out of place that Thorn was almost
startled. "You know the difference between you and me, Mr. Thorn?"
Sorensen asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "You think this test is
probably a waste of time. Me, on the other hand, I know it is."
"Let's get on with it," Thorn repeated.
* * * * *
It took two hours to set up the equipment, in spite of the fact that a lot
of the circuits had been prefabricated before the caravan had come out
from Salt Lake City. But Richard Thorn wanted to make certain that all
his data was both correct and recorded. Sorensen had nothing to do but
watch. He had no hand in setting up the equipment. He had brought the
Black Suitcase, and that was all he was going to be allowed to do.
From the top of the Black Suitcase projected two one-inch copper
electrodes, fourteen inches apart. The North American Carbide &
Metals technicians set up the circuits that were connected to the
electrodes without any help from Sorensen.
But just before they started to work, Sorensen said: "There's just one
thing I think you ought to warn those