Pool_2

>> Amido Schwartz <<

"Well, that's impossible," was professor Henry's first assessment. "Clearly we have a data acquisition problem." This was a room of black enameled long laboratory work benches with trough-like sinks and rows of tall arcing water faucets alternating with gas fixtures. None of the Bunsen burners were active, right now, save the one under the professor's espresso pot. Glass windowed closets with a fine wire inner working invited inspection of the many reagents and devices that made this place, this place. Professor Henry was the classic wild haired professor. His knowledge ran the full scope of academics. Although having two Ph.D. degrees in chemistry, inorganic and organic, he prided himself in in-depth discussions of the literary classics. In fact he stood in for the literature professors, who called in sick from time to time. He brought his chemistry students along. His off the cuff lecture on Tristram and Isoude, in one such last minute substitution, was classic Henry. In it he not only sung possible minstrel ditties as might have been voiced by the so called harper Tramtris, he went on and included complex neurochemistries that might account for the philter conveyed by Brengwain, and then derived the historical antecedents of the code of knighthood as it was understood by King Mark. Who the hell knew what this guy was talking about? They all just figured that he did, that he knew. Actually, he did know. His mind was a thousand mile deep compression of knowledge. How do you correct such a man? Just do it. He lives for the chase of the unknown. "No. I don't think so, Doctor Henry. The cylinders of chlorine gas are weighed by the delivery guys going and coming. See?" Marcus countered, holding out the log he had copied. The active cylinder is on a scale. I tested it and re-calibrated it myself. My