“You once called Ernest Self a great intuitive scientist.”
“Oh, Self. Yes, indeed. What is he doing these days?”
Larry said wryly, “That's what I came to ask you about.”
The Professor was puzzled. “I'm afraid you came to the wrong place, Mr. Woolford. I haven't seen Ernest for quite a time. Why?”
“Some of his researches seem to have taken him rather far afield. Actually, I know practically nothing about him. I wonder if you could fill me in a bit.”
Peter Voss looked at the ash on the end of his cigar. “I really don't know the man that well. He lives across the park. Why don't—”
“He's disappeared,” Larry said.
The Professor blinked. “I see,” he said. “And in view of the fact that you are a security officer, I assume under strange circumstances.” Larry Woolford said nothing and the Professor sank back into his chair and pursed his lips. “I can't really tell you much. I became interested in Self two or three years ago when gathering materials for a paper on the inadequate manner in which our country rewards its inventors.”
Larry said, “I've heard about his suit against the government.”
The Professor became more animated. “Ha!” he snorted. “One example among many. Self is not alone. Our culture is such that the genius is smothered. The great contributors to our society are ignored, or worse.”