h on anything he wanted to, still a muddled series
of half facts, incidents and suspicions chased through his mind.

Mason walked over to his desk and filling his pipe sat down thoughtfully
and leaned back motioning Collins into a nearby chair.

"I think I know what is on your mind, Milt. Maybe I can straighten this
out. Gordon told me a little while ago that you wanted to resign."

Collins stiffened. So, these two were working together.

"Milt, did you ever stop to think how lucky we are? Where can you get
better equipment, help, cooperation in the country than here?" Collins
leaned forward to speak, but Mason went on. "Oh, I know all the problems
of security and how it strangles work." He paused for a moment as though
trying to grasp the right words.

"Look, Milt, what's the basic problem? Why do security measures strangle
research? Isn't it a matter basically of a breakdown in the interchange
of ideas? Sure, and it has come about because there has been no method
of communication which would not get to and be used by our enemies. So,
like yourself, I'm forbidden to publish the results of my work here in
the journals. Why? Because those results are in my field of study, chain
reactions.

"I'm frustrated just as you have been and science suffers. What do I do?
I write articles in a field that isn't restricted, botany. It's a new
field of interest to me, a hobby if you like. The stuff is published and
gets wide distribution. Every decent library in the country gets it.
Every scientist all over the country can read the papers if he cares to.
Then the word gets around, by the scientific grapevine, with a little
judicious ear-bending. I get a reputation--in Botany.

"Now the botanists know that I am not a botanist. They understand what
I am doing. The word spreads, and they leave my stuff alone. The
physicists in my specialty know my name, and they get the word, and
pretty soon they are glancing over certain botany journals apparently
for relaxation. They read my papers. It's slow, but it works." Mason
leaned forward and struck a large stick match under the lab bench top.
Drawing several puffs through his pipe his eyes were on Collins'
confused face. Then he laid the pipe down.

"The enemy botanists may read the botany journals, sure, but the enemy
physicists don't. Their totalitarian training has made them inflexible
in their thinking, besides they have their hands full trying to keep up
in their own fields. The cu