Hanson fumed but it did no good. He was licked by animosity, disdain, and complete lack of sympathy. There was nothing to do but leave. And the doctor left, half-convinced that Redmond was right in assuming that if one galactic race could use the negative-space drive, another could do the same without fear. But he was only half-convinced; he wanted an opinion from Maculay. There was more here than met the eye.
Some other race knew the secret and were using it. The human race knew the secret and were about to try it. But the man who knew the real answers had gone into a tizzy because of some errata, or factor that was absolutely incompatible with life, liberty, and/or pursuit of happiness.
Hanson grunted. All too often in the case of violent disagreement, all parties were absolutely correct in their own mind, their own honest belief. Maybe this was similar.
One theoretical man feared the results from an abstract analysis of the computations. One mechanically-minded man could not appreciate the possible dangers, but was happy to follow the plans since completion meant fame and fortune for him. Both might be right. But....
Hanson shrugged unhappily; it was a bad spot to be in. Yet in the course of his seventy years many problems had seemed insoluble until some factor entered that changed the whole picture. And life itself must have seen many crises, in which the motion of a hand in the wrong direction would have caused the utter downfall of Humanity—or, he thought bitterly, perhaps we are the result of an ill-moved hand of fate and might truly be great in mind as in work if some prehistoric egomaniac hadn't kicked some unknown prop out from beneath us.
Perhaps, too, his mind told him, it could have been some half-baked do-gooder trying to help. As he, Jay Hanson, had attempted to help Maculay. The fault was as much his as it was Redmond's. More—Redmond could not help being what he was. Yet, neither could Hanson stand by and see a man go to pieces.
In any case it was not a proposition of fixing the blame; to hell with the blame and the responsibility. Fix it. Fix it. Fix it and forget the fumbling finger that fouled it.
Hanson swore. He was helpless.
Yet for all of his efforts, he believed that something would happen to avert this disaster. It hardly seemed possible that one man's act could destroy the universe. Man's total effort was so puny. Inconsequential. The ignorant savage could not destroy civilization.