“Why, yes.”
“And a body; what’s that?”
“A body? Why, matter, I suppose.”
“And matter is what?”
“Anything that occupies space,” I replied triumphantly. I had remembered that much from my physics classes.
“True,” smiled Vic. “But let’s see. It is possible to have sound and light in the same place, isn’t it? We can even add other things: heat and electricity, for example. Speaking of electricity, a tremendous current of it adds nothing to the weight of the wire carrying it, and nothing to its bulk, unless we have a heating overload. Current enough to kill a thousand men, or to do the work of a million horses, weighs nothing, is invisible, and actually does nothing until released in some form or other, either by accident or design.”
“True, but electricity isn’t matter. Our old world is matter; I’m matter, and you’re matter. Why don’t we bump into things?”
“Our old world is matter, true enough, but for the rest, you’re wrong, Pete, old son. You’re not matter, any more. You’re something else. In terms of our own being, you do not exist in your present form. This world does not exist. And the reverse is just as true.”
I stared at him, bewildered.
“What am I, then—a ghost?”