His progress after that was rapid. Barry, Louis, Tod and Joan were baffled by his actions and said so. They did see progress, and were pleased.
But they could offer no help. What Les was doing with the temperon sample was enigmatic to them, though he admitted that what they saw might lead them to the right answer eventually. A savage, given the knowledge only of the identification of materials and the working model, could easily reproduce a simple radio receiving set, yet he would have no idea as to the principles underlying the art. And many millions of people drive automobiles daily without the vaguest idea of the theory of the internal combustion engine.
The gloves that Ackerman made, studded with thin slices of temperon, enabled him to move and handle objects in the world of reality. Then the machine—with its huge paraboloidal reflector coated on the inside with a thin layer of temperon—gave Lester Ackerman his initial taste of success.
Out in the forest, far from the laboratory, Ackerman focused the reflector on a log, lying ghostlike in the world of 'Real Time'. It came through. Not as an object might be passed or drawn through a curtain to drop on the inside, or as an object lifted from a pool of water, passing from one medium to the other. It merely solidified.
He picked it up, grunting with the effort, and passed one end through a tree. Satisfied, he dropped it from his shoulder.
He turned—and then turned again, startled. His ears perked, and the sound came again.
Looking through the trees—it was like trying to see through a heavy maze of plate glass, and the scene fifty yards from him was as hidden as if the woods had been truly solid.
"Don't be alarmed," said a voice. Ackerman straightened.
"Spying?"