Phil closed his eyes and listened to the little voice inside his head. He said: "It is an inflammation of the lungs caused by tiny particles of rock dust; it is commonly known as 'silicosis' or 'miner's consumption.'"
The quizmaster looked almost shocked, but, good showman that he was, he managed to keep a bland expression on his face.
"That's right!" he bellowed.
Phil Merriwether grinned happily. He didn't know how it had come about, but, somehow, something had filled his head full of all kinds of amazing facts. It didn't matter what the question was, all Phil had to do was think about it, and the answer was in his memory. He smiled, waiting for the next question.
"You've come to the $25,000 question," said the MC. "If you want to go on, you will have to be put in a soundproof booth so that you won't be prompted by the audience. If you want to come back next week—"
"I'll take it now," said Phil Merriwether.
So they put him in a soundproof booth. All he could hear was the announcer's voice.
Phil smiled to himself. Twenty-five thousand dollars so far! It was fantastic! He'd never have to work again!
He answered the next question easily. Fifty thousand dollars! Fantastic!
The announcer said: "What is the mathematical formula for the world's most powerful weapon?"