"Charley," the old man said. "What do strong men have to do with—"
"Let me tell you, professor," Charley said. "People don't care about strong men any more; there are too many gadgets around. Nobody has to be a strong man; nobody wants to watch one. They're useless. See?"
"Everyone can be his own strong man," the old man said.
"Right," Charley said. "The chain hoist—machines like that—they killed off the whole act. Years ago. And you've killed off the Armless Wonders and the Legless Wonders, professor. You've done it, all at once."
Professor Lightning shook his head. "I don't see—" he began.
"Anybody can grow new arms," Charley said. "So the man without arms—he's not an object of pity any more. He's just some guy who doesn't want to work. Nobody wants to go and see him; let him grow arms, if he doesn't want to be called a lazy bum. See?"
There was a little silence.
"I see," Professor Lightning said slowly. "Without pity, without a strong sense of identification, there is no audience."
"For me there isn't," Charley said. "Or for anybody like me."
Professor Lightning nodded. "Well," he said. "I hardly meant to ... well, Charley, you came for something else." His face seemed to lengthen. "And I must tell you ... Charley, I have been doing a lot of work. I am hardly a professional scientist; I have been away too long."