And, too, I can imagine trying to sell those Generals on something that won't even stop a tank.
I'm afraid I forgot to shut off the kitchen monitor that night. The servos dished out the dinner menu I'd dialed before noon, then whisked it away when it got cold. I noticed it when the waste processor's stuttering hum went on a bit longer than usual.
I realized all too clearly what a predicament I was in.
The Armed Forces would undoubtedly suppress my invention. Their lives are nightmarish enough already—not knowing what they'll find out in space or how it will affect matters. What's more, they would suppress me! There are certain retroactive clauses in that contract I signed with the AEC which would do the job with complete legality. A nice little hideaway, then, with nothing for miles but security guards, radar traps, trip-wires and electric fences.
But that was the kindest fate I could expect. Quite a number of assorted big and small dictators might like my head blown off.
The most obvious alternative was to suppress the invention myself. To destroy all traces of my experiments and forget about it. To convince myself the world wasn't ready for it.
It's quite possible I might have—if I hadn't kept forgetting to shut off things—and if not for an unsavory little group.
There is small chance that Big Jake Claggett and his three henchmen will ever be remembered for their unwitting contribution to science and the future of mankind. In fact, their contribution can be accepted as the merest coincidence—unless you discount Big Jake's liking for foreign sports cars. But that came later.
We always have had criminals and crime, and it just happened that Claggett's gang were the big news that day. It could as easily have been some other bunch of crooks.