The Man Who Fell to Earth

Professor Canutti, crew-cut, pipe-smoking and rubbery-complexioned, welcomed him with a twenty-dollar smile, waved him across the pigeons-egg-blue carpet to a lavender plastic-chair and said, “Good to see you, Nate.”

Bryce winced almost visibly at the “Nate.” and, looking at his watch as though in a hurry, said, “Something I’m curious about, Professor Canutti.” He was not in a hurry — except to get this interview over with; now that exams were ended he had nothing to do for a week.

Canutti smiled sympathetically, and Bryce momentarily cursed himself for coming to see this golf-playing idiot in the first place. But Canutti might know something of use to him; he was at least no fool as a chemist.

Bryce pulled a box from his pocket, and set it on Canutti’s desk. “Have you seen this new film?” he said.

Canutti picked it up in his soft, uncalloused hand, and looked at it for a moment, puzzled. “Worldcolor? Yes, I’ve used it, Nate.” He set it down, with a kind of finality. “It’s a darn good film. Self-developing.”

“Do you know how it works?”

Canutti drew speculatively on his pipe, which was unlit. “No, Nate. Can’t say as I do. Like any other film, I guess. Only a little more… sophisticated.” He smiled at his pleasantry.

“Not exactly.” Bryce reached over and picked up the box, weighing it in his hand, and watching Canutti’s bland face. “I ran some tests on it, and was pretty thoroughly startled. You know, the best color films have three separate emulsions, one for each primary. Well, this one has no emulsion at all.”

Canutti raised his eyebrows. You’d better look surprised, you idiot, Bryce thought. Taking the pipe from his mouth Canutti said, “Sounds impossible. Where’s the photosensitivity?”

“Apparently in the base. And it seems to be done with barium salts — only God would know how. Crystalline barium salts in a random dispersion. And,” he drew a breath, “the developer is gaseous — in a little pod under the canister lid. I’ve tried to find what’s in it and all I can be certain of is potassium nitrate, some peroxide, and something that, so help me, acted like cobalt. And it’s all mildly radioactive, which may explain something, although I’m not certain what.”

Canutti gave him the long pause that his little lecture, in all politeness, required. Then he said, “Sounds wild, Nate. Where do they make it?”

“There’s a factory in Kentucky. But they’re incorporated in New York, as near as I can find out. No stock listed on the exchange.”

Canutti, listening, adopted a serious expression; probably, Bryce thought, the one he reserved for solemn occasions, like being admitted to a new country club. “I see. Well, this is tricky, isn’t it?”

Tricky? What in hell did that mean? Of course it was tricky. It was impossible. “Yes, it’s tricky. That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” He hesitated a moment, reluctant to ask a favor of this pompous little extrovert. “I’d like to follow it up, find out how the devil it works. I wonder if I could use one of the big research labs down in the basement — at least during the time between semesters. And I could use a student assistant, if there’s one available.”

Canutti had leaned far back in his plastic-covered chair during the middle of this speech, as though Bryce had physically pushed him down into the soft and billowy foam cushions. “The labs are all being used, Nate,” he said. “You know we’ve got more industrial and military projects now than we can handle. Why don’t you write the company that makes the film and query them?”

He tried to keep his voice level: “I’ve already written them. They don’t answer their mail. Nobody knows anything about them. There’s nothing about them in the journals — not even in American Photochemistry.” He stopped a minute. “Look, all I need is a lab, Professor Canutti… I can do without the assistant.”

“Walt. Walt Canutti. But the labs are full, Nate. Coordinator Johnson would have me by the ruddy ears if I—”

“Look… Walt… This is basic research. Johnson is always giving speeches about basic research, isn’t he? The backbone of science. All we appear to be doing here is developing cheaper ways to make insecticides, and perfecting gas bombs.”

Canutti raised his eyebrows, his chubby body still sunk in cushioning foam. “We don’t make a habit of talking about our military projects that way, Nate. Our applied tactical research is—”

“All right. All right.” He fought his voice back down, trying to make it sound normal. “Killing people is basic, I suppose. Part of the nation’s life, too. But this film…”

Canutti flushed at the sarcasm. “Look. Nate.” he said, “what you want to do is diddle with a commercial process. And, moreover, one that already works just fine. Why blow your top over it? So the film’s a little unusual. All the better.”