assortment of wires between it and his
invention. He would not allow Farmer very close to the latter, but to
the editor's untechnical eye it looked like a fairly ordinary radio set,
with more than enough dials and switches added to it to furnish the
dashboards of several Rolls Royces.

Ray held up a hand--purely for drama, since there was silence already.
"This is a great moment in the course of human history," he said. "You
are about to witness the first demonstration of Ray's Ray, the work of
genius which will allow mankind his first really close contact with the
last remaining frontier on his home planet--the bottom of the sea!"

Farmer looked impressed, then began to realize what some of this meant.
He caught himself, straightened out his face, and licked his lips. "You
mean you've never tried the thing before?" he protested. "How do you
know it will work?"

Ray's glance took on a touch of icy fury. The launch rocked gently in
the swell for a long, silent minute, and Farmer began to feel slightly
afraid. Was he alone, in a spot like this, with a madman? The salty
breeze turned colder.

Then Ray smiled--a smile that was surprisingly soft and sweet. John
Andrew reached two decisions: that he was safe, and that he liked the
"Judge." (One of Farmer's weaknesses, in fact, was that--though
thoroughly masculine himself--he completely distrusted women, and was
too trusting with men.)

"I could go into theories and scientific details," Ray said; "I could
explain principles of operation and the construction of the machine for
hours. But you would be bored, and wouldn't understand anyway. It is
sufficient to say that the Ray will work because--I invented it!"

Farmer caught himself nodding, and blamed the boat's motion. He shifted
uneasily on the built-in seat, and got a splinter in a vital spot. He
frowned.

Ray was bending over his machine, making motions designed to impress as
well as to make it work. "In very simple terms," he was saying, "this is
a combination of color television and super-radar. It will bring in a
perfect color picture of the ocean at whatever depth I set it for, or
will set itself automatically to present a view of the ocean floor. It
will...."

His voice trailed off. The machine hissed, snapped, and crackled. The
television set flickered, hummed, gave out a flashing dance of
surrealistic doodles, and abruptly presented a picture. It was a picture
of Milton Berle.

Ray looked mad, started to