"We 'pushed' there," he said. "Now we pry here."
"What kind of measure comes here?"
"Same prescription," said Ackerman, reaching for his temperon-clad glove.
"And is this where the Ford-Laplane outfit comes in?"
"No. Since this is the world of free research, the cyclotron laboratory will be remotely controlled and unattended; no one will get hurt."
"But I don't understand how the same cure works on both worlds," complained Tansie.
"Very simple. The other world didn't know what one another was doing because everybody was afraid to talk. In this world no one knows what his neighbor is doing because, with everybody doing it, there is too little correlation of effort. No one has to ask anybody's permission to tinker, and so when this laboratory goes up, again no one will be quite sure of what caused it."
"But those who were running it will," objected Tansie.
Ackerman smiled. "Tansie Lee is one of my favorite cooks," he told her. "She's been cooking for years. And would Tansie know what happened if she mixed up a batch of baking powder biscuits out of her grandmother's old tried and true recipe—used in the family for years—and when she popped them in the oven to cook, they exploded and destroyed the end of the house?"
"So?" she smiled. "You're going to take a standard experiment and fudge it up?"