"But—"
"It is true," Professor Lightning said sadly. "Never mind; I've had my one discovery—how much an accident, no one may ever know. But I neglected to widen the scope of what I had done; I generalized too rapidly, my boy." He took a deep breath. "The method, the technique, is very complex," he said. "But imagine it this way: a man comes to New York. He explores it. Later, when he goes home, he is asked to draw a map of it—and he can do so, because he has the experience. He has the memory of New York, locked in his mind."
Charley nodded. "What does that have to do with me?" he said.
"The cells ... the cells of the body seem to have such a memory," the professor said. "It is the basis of my technique."
Charley nodded. "O.K.," he said "I don't care how it works, so long as it— It does work, doesn't it?"
The professor shook his head. Very slowly, he said: "Not for you, my boy. Not for you." He paused. "You see, you were born without arms. In such a case the cellular memory does not seem to exist—like a man who has never been to New York. He cannot draw the map. He has no memory to begin with."
The silence this time was a long one.
At last Charley said: "But somebody could tell him. I mean about New York, so he could draw the map."
"Perhaps," the professor said. "We are working on it. Some day—"
"But not today," Charley said. "Is that it?"