East In the Morning
By DAVID E. FISHER
Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine February 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Natural laws are cliches—"what must be
must be," for instance—and what must be in
this case was, of all people, Dr. Talbot!
The first thirty years of Henry Talbot's life were the most promising.He was a bright student through high school, and in college his fellowstudents often used the word "brilliant" in discussing his mentality;occasionally even his instructors echoed them.
Upon receiving his bachelor's degree, he went to graduate school andeventually received his Ph.D. as an experimental nuclear physicist.He applied for and got a research position at Oak Ridge NationalLaboratory, in the Electronuclear Research Division.
Dr. Henry Talbot, brilliant young scientist, began his careerenthusiastically, and ran into a brick wall.
Rather, he crawled up to and against it, for it took several yearsfor him to discover that his life's route lay not on an unobstructeddownhill slide. Those years slithered past before he looked up andrealized that he had not revolutionized the scientific world; he haddiscovered no principle of relativity, no quantum theory.
He stopped working for a moment and looked around. All his colleagueswere enthusiastic and brilliant young scientists. Where at school,where throughout his life, he had been outstanding, now he was oneof the crowd. What had passed for brilliance before was now merelycompetence.
Henry Talbot felt a vague need which he perceived liquor might fill.That afternoon he left work early for the first time since he hadarrived at Oak Ridge. He had to buy the vodka from a bootlegger,Oak Ridge being in a dry county. But, as in most dry counties, thatpresented no problem. He stopped by Shorty's cab stand, across thestreet from the police department, and asked Shorty for a bottle.Shorty reached into the glove compartment and, for fifty cents overlist price, the vodka changed hands. Henry didn't like to patronize thebootleggers, but he did feel the need for a quick one just this once.
After drinking for several hours in his apartment, Henry Talbot tookstock of himself and came to two conclusions:
1. He was satisfied with himself and his life. He had always taken forgranted that he would one day be a famous figure in some scientificfield, true, but this was actually not so important as, upon casualinspection, it might seem. He liked his work, otherwise he could neverhave been so wrapped up in it, and he saw no reason for discontinuingit or for becoming despondent over his lack of fame. After all, hereasoned, he had never been famous and yet had been always perfectlycontent.
2. He liked vodka.
The next thirty years of Henry Talbot's life, now devoid of promise,were fulfilling and content. He worked steadily and drank as the moodfell upon him, publishing on the average one paper a year. These paperswere thorough, the experiments well worked out, without contrivedresults or varnished sloppiness. The publications were acceptedeverywhere as solid research papers.
Henry Talbot's name became familiar in the nuclear field. He did notfind his face on the cover of Time, nor was he ever invited toparticipate as an "expert" on any television quiz programs, yet he waswell known to nuclear researchers—at least those