With much difficulty, Tom moved the box out from its watery bath below the bench and hauled it over to the high-power X-ray machine. He looked at the fluoroscope and grunted in disgust.
Naturally, tungsten would be completely and utterly blank-faced to any X-ray manipulation. He wanted to kick it, but he knew that kicking a sold slab of tungsten would be damaging only to the kickee.
A means of casting tungsten—something that they'd been seeking ever since the stuff was isolated. He had it—or at least, the physicist had it.
Utter frustration.
Thomas Lionel looked at the box and grinned. He knew what had happened. The engineer hadn't been able to guess—
He pressed the button again—
Tom Lionel removed his finger from the button and swore. He used an engineer's ability to remember and then to improvise and from there he took up the job of invention. His swearing did him good. At least he forgot to worry about the tungsten box. He'd find that one out eventually, anyway.
And, furthermore, its trial by fire and water had damaged it in absolutely no way.