Julio Aníbal Portas - "Rino's Fantasies" (1957)

INTRODUCTION

Julio Aníbal Portas (8 Feb 1915 - 10 Dec 1984) was an Argentine fiction author, historian and bibliographer. He was one of the directors of Más Allá ("Beyond"), as well as the magazine "Misterix" and "Screen" ("Parabrisas") and "Teleaventura". For his science fiction output, he published four short stories that appeared in Más Allá, an Argentinian science fiction magazine, three under the pseudonym Julián de Córdoba; the short stories "Raw Material" (#20, January 1955), "The Jump" (#22, March 1955) and the novella "Rino's Fantasies" (#46, April 1957), and one under the pseudonym Julio Almada, "Time Disintegrated" (#8, January 1954). "Rino's Fantasies" was illustrated by Ornay.

For further information on this era of Argentine science fiction, see Rachel Haywood Ferreira's "Más Allá, El Eternauta, and the Dawn of the Golden Age of Latin American Science Fiction (1953-59)", "How Latin America Saved the World and Other Forgotten Futures" and Carlos Abraham's "Las revistas argentinas de ciencia ficción".

For complete scans of Más Allá, including the illustrations, see: https://ahira.com.ar/revistas/mas-alla-de-la-ciencia-y-de-la-fantasia/ 

RINO'S FANTASIES 

The studio's solid carob door resonated with a few timid taps. A well-modulated voice, almost that of an elderly person, immediately said:

- "May I, papa? I'd like to show you these drawings of..."

- "I can't right now, Rino, as soon as I'm done, I'll call you."

A pause, then the footsteps slowly, sadly, moved away from the carob door.

- "It'll be another one of his ridiculous inventions," Grandi muttered with impatience mixed with tenderness. He took the fountain pen from its chrome pedestal and continued writing: "therefore, this new type of electroencephalogram provides an interesting advantage of making it possible to represent not just the rhythm, but also the modulation of the characteristic disturbances in cases of catatonia, paranoia, cyclothymia, schizophrenia..."

He carefully placed the pen in the ad hoc slot and slowly lit a cigarette. 

Any interruption in his work could break his concentration, he thought - but Rino had a special talent for leaving a trail of psychological turmoil behind him. It's always been that way. Ever since he was a child, ever since his mother's death... The portrait hanging in front of the desk seemed to move in its leather frame, and the kind smile on the pretty face overflowed with love and intelligent understanding for the two men she left behind.

The boy was sharp, no doubt about it. More than that, he was intelligent. Of a mature intelligence, almost adult at times. And he had character too. He would've considered himself a very demanding and unjust father, were it not for the fact that he was more than thankful to his luck for a son like Rino.

And yet... Grandi smiled. Yes, he knew what worried and irritated him... It's logical. If someone has faced the truth their whole life with courage and patience, and it's gone well for them, it's logical that they'd want the same path for their child. Yes, all children try to escape reality. They all nail four pieces of wood together and convince themselves it's a car. It was necessary to acknowledge that Rino wasn't like that. On the contrary, if he made a little car, he made it perfectly and said, "it looks like a car," not "it's a car." What more could one ask of a child in terms of honesty, mental balance, and intellectual integrity?

This was likely due, in part, to heredity. Both parents had an IQ well above average...

The portrait in the leather frame seemed to acknowledge the compliment, accentuating its smile.

The level of their long conversations on a wide range of subjects most certainly influenced the boy's mental development as well. He never infantilized his own way of thinking, as many parents might do when speaking to a thirteen-year-old. Rather, he sought to help him progress toward intellectual maturity. He spoke to him man-to-man about his work as a psychiatrist, about his activities as a member of various specialized UNESCO committees. He explained basic concepts in simple, yet not superficial, terms. He gradually accustomed him to that clarity and rapid-fire exchange of ideas, without which there is neither lucidity nor mental integrity. All of this did not preclude games and joy in Rino's life, who always displayed a magnificent childlike enthusiasm... Yes, he was proud of his son.

However, he sometimes felt a sharp irritation, accompanied by a vague but acute sense of guilt and helplessness. He shouldn't be irritated if he himself hadn't been able to prevent his son from frequently experiencing the unreal as if it were real. It wasn't easy not to be irritated. When Rino had one of his fantasies, he expected him to accept them as concrete facts. Naturally, he treated them as a lovely game of the imagination, and then Rino would withdraw, sullen, into a refuge of sullen and prolonged silence.

* * *

Dr. Grandi put out his cigarette and uncomfortably shifted in his chair. He remembered the incident with the swimming pool. The previous year, he built a pool in the garden that due to its low elevation didn't have any natural drainage. Rino timidly objected to buying an electric pump. He said that if he had some rolls of copper wire and some "obedient" steel sheets, he could empty the pool in a half hour. He laughed at the idea and tried, with a great deal of patience, to convince him that no homemade contraption made by a child could pump two hundred thousand liters of water in a half hour. The pump was purchased, and Rino remained sad and silent for a while. He didn't want to give up his childish fantasy. What should he have done, so as not to hurt the boy's feelings? Go without drainage and buy him a pile of useless wire and sheets of metal?

The same thing happened with the photographic apparatus. Rino wanted to disassemble it to "improve" it. He would have adapted it, he said, to make glass bas-reliefs instead of ordinary photographs. He explained, with complete sincerity, that substances are like birds. Some fly by day, others by night. All it took was to make a thick sheet of lark crystals and owl crystals, and attach a device to the apparatus that rapidly changed focus during exposure. Then the resulting bas-relief was covered with ostrich crystals, which never fly.

- "You talk like a thirteenth-century alchemist" - he told him, laughing, but denying him permission to perfect his already perfected brand-new device.

Until recently, these fantasies reoccurred with alarming frequency. Once, he wanted to replace the house's central heating system with a much better one that would "chew" the fuel. Another time, it was about a small sphere made of two metals. One hungry for little balls of light, and the other as prolific as rabbits. There's always a little ball of light, even when the darkness seems complete. One metal consumes them, and the other reproduces them in great quantities. More convenient than electric light, he said, no wires, no installations, completely portable, and practically eternal.

He never insisted on materials or equipment for his requests. He limited himself to his sad and sorrowful silences. Lately, up until today, the continuous flow of fantastic inventions had ceased altogether.

Grandi stood up, determined. He gave up on work for the time being. He rang the bell twice for Rino. Less than thirty seconds later, señorita Kiersen appeared. The image of the perfect secretary. Efficiency personified with a feather-cut hairdo.

In truth, she was more than just a secretary. She started off as a nurse and steadily accumulated positions, without ever giving up her previous ones. Currently, she held the roles of nurse, secretary, stenographer, handler of both personal and professional correspondence, and housekeeper. She was always as friendly as a perfume saleswoman and as elegant as a model. According to Juana, the cook, she was also as tough as ox meat and as cold as a bottle of Coca-Cola straight from the fridge.

- "Rino's gone to the garden," she announced. "He climbed into his 'cave' in the pine tree; he should be up there."

- "Thank you. Don't call him, I'll go myself."

He stopped beneath an immense cedar tree and pulled down his hanging violin. Fifteen meters above, an old cornet emitted an indefinable wail. Rino shouted:

- "I'm coming, papa!" He climbed down from the tree like Tarzan, using a complicated system of ropes and flying trapezes.

- "Hello, papa..."

- "Hello, Rino. Those plans you wanted to show me... what are they of?"

- "Here they are, papa." He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out some neatly folded papers. "It's a simple little device for making people invisible. And inanimate objects too."

- "Like in the movie 'The Invisible Man'?"

- "Yes, yes..., only that was pure fantasy."

Grandi suppressed an ironic smile.

- "But your device will actually work..."

- "I don't know if it will work or not..." Rino watched his father's face with visible anxiety. "This time I need at least two or three hundred pesos worth of materials and tools. I don't know if you..."

Grandi felt a wave of tenderness grow within him, and he was glad of the decision he'd made.

Conversing, they went in the house. Upon reaching the study, the doctor closed the door and lit a cigarette.

- "Sit down, Rino," he said gently. "You can make a list of everything you need and give it to señorita Kiersen. Up to five hundred pesos."

- "Thank you, papa. With that much, I can also buy a battery. The device is going to be portable. You'll see how much fun it'll be!"

- "Yes, let's see... If the invisibility device is pure fantasy, you'll be convinced. Otherwise, I'll be convinced myself. For a few hundred pesos, we can clear up any doubt. I don't know why I didn't do this before... Does that seem fair to you?"

- "Yes, papa. In three or four days you'll know for sure." - He was looking at the papers on the desk.

- "What's that diagram?" he asked.

- "It's an electroencephalogram." The tip of the cigarette followed the zigzagging line with elegant movements. "It represents the flow of endothalamic impulses, amplified, of course. The curve at the top belongs to a manic-depressive patient. Below is the control curve, that is, the diagram of a normal individual."

Rino listened attentively to the explanation.

- "I understand" - he said. "The impulses recorded in the patient's curve are returned to them, correcting or replacing the points that denote pathological deformation with fragments of a normal curve."

- "How's that?" Grandi asked, his voice a little higher than usual.

- "Yes. After several applications, the affected areas of the brain become accustomed to emitting impulses of a similar nature, and gradually adapt in response to the received modulations, until they become normal. A kind of symptomatic cure..."

Grandi remained silent.

- "Do you remember the example you gave me once? The one about the sad man who coldly decides to smile: At first, the smile is mechanical, forced. But then, through the reciprocity of reflexes, good humor returns. That's how the system works, isn't it?"

- "No. Not like that," Grandi said brusquely, a tone he himself couldn't explain. "These diagrams... we use them only to study the disease, not to cure it. In most cases, there is no cure, not yet."

- "But..."

- "But you just made it up... It's crazy... And yet, this time, your idea has something to it that's got me thinking. It's wild supposition, but I'm going to discuss it with Keller, our electroencephalogram specialist."

* * *

Rino was dumbfounded. It seemed impossible that neither his father, a famous psychiatrist, nor the great specialist Keller, had thought of practicing such a simple, obvious cure. To hide his perplexity, he again pointed to the diagram and the accompanying papers.

- "Are you also going to take this study to the next conference?" he said. "In addition to the other one?"

Grandi slammed his fist on a folder that bore the beautifully written title, in large, typed letters: "Harmful Influence of Antibiotics on the Nervous System and Neuroencephalic Cellular Organization." And below, in modest print: "Prof. Aurelio Grandi."

- "In addition to this one, you say? No. I'll take it instead of this ancient, antiquated, archaic... pre-Columbian garbage." He slammed his fist on the folder again. "I can't read this filth at the Paris conference, for the simple reason that it's nothing new. It's older than the use of antibiotics... I wrote it last month," he added bitterly.

Rino had never seen his father so agitated.

- "What happened, papa?" He didn't know what else to say.

- "It so happened that at the preliminary conference in Prague last week, that stiff-necked Rajnović read this report verbatim. Exactly as written! Do you understand? Not a single word was missing. All the global statistics I collected. All the considerations. Even the suggestions I made at the end... 'Antibiotics and Madness. Another Great Discovery by a Soviet Genius,' said Pravda the other day. There are some very valuable Russians, but that Rajnović isn't capable of a single original idea. He couldn't tell a Penicillium notatum from a tadpole. Besides, I can't imagine how he could have copied it. Nobody's seen it. Absolutely nobody. Not even you have read it."

- "Not me," said Rino. He was biting his fingernails. "But I don't think you can type a paper without reading it."

- "Rino, I don't think it's right to suspect and accuse someone just because you don't like them. Señorita Kiersen, over all these years, has earned the right to your complete trust."

- "I'm sorry, papa, but I don't suspect anything out of dislike. I feel a slight dislike precisely because I suspect she's not being honest with you."

The creaking of the door repeated itself. No, it wasn't the door. It was the hallway floor. They both stood there for a few seconds, listening. Before his father could stop him, Rino leaped to the door and opened it. No one, there was no one there.

A door slammed downstairs. Then another. Señorita Kiersen shouted:

- "Who... What... Stop... Stooop!" - the sound of heavy, very heavy footsteps was heard, and then the crash of the front door slamming shut...

Señorita Kiersen later said the stranger was tall and thin, dressed in black, and carrying a large black leather satchel. The police found no trace of him.

* * *

The sun's rays filtered through the long branches of the ancient cedar and into Rino's room. A room like any other. A few photographs on the walls. A portrait of his mother hung above the bed. An air rifle and a beautiful leather lasso hung from ingenious hinged hooks. A table, three chairs, the bed, a bookshelf, and a built-in closet.

The only remarkable feature was order. Incredible order. It wasn't pedantic, routine order. Even the tiniest things were set in perfect relation to everything else. There was an indefinable atmosphere of perfect balance.

Rino opened his eyes. "It's summertime," he thought. "I don't have school." Without hesitation, but unhurried, he got up. The warm shower felt pleasant on his tanned skin. His movements as he dried himself, combed his hair, and dressed were calm, precise. The orderly sequence of his actions gave an impression of strangely deceptive slowness. In reality, and perhaps without even realizing it, he was getting dressed in record time.

Señorita Kiersen's voice sounded from downstairs. Instructions for Juana. The doctor wouldn't be coming for lunch today. She was to prepare humita en chala.[Translator's note: An Argentine dish, a fresh-corn paste wrapped and cooked in the corn husk itself.] Corn was in season, and besides, it was the boy's favorite dish.

- "Humiita, Humiitaaa..." he crooned. Perhaps he had been unfair to her. Ever since the day he unjustly suspected señorita Kiersen, he tried to atone for his own rashness. And señorita Kiersen had been so kind to him... The very next day, with an efficiency she usually reserved for the doctor alone, she delivered the requested materials.

- "There's more than you were expecting," she told him, winking her eye. "It must be some kind of mistake at the electrical supply store..."

There was much more. There was enough to build four devices, not just one. Yes, after all, the señorita was very good and deserved him trying to overcome that inexplicable feeling of antagonism towards her.

Now, the device was in the closet, finished. Only four days had passed, just as he had promised his father. Yesterday afternoon he  soldered the last connections, and tested it on mineral, vegetable, and... canine objects. He corrected a slight distorting effect and achieved a satisfactory setting. Then he wasn't able to resist the temptation and had the time of his life making various things disappear and reappear before the astonished eyes of Juana, the cook. The señorita, upon entering the kitchen, must've seen a plucked chicken materialize out of thin air on the seemingly empty table. Or perhaps she hadn't noticed anything, since she didn't make any comments.

Juana's astute comment was:

- "How wonderful, child, how funny!" Juana firmly believed in, without ever having seen them, ghosts, specters, visions, and apparitions...

After this demonstration, he spent the last hours of the afternoon building another device, similar to the first one, but simpler. Using the tools he built for the first device, and thanks to his acquired experience, he had it finished by dinnertime...

But all of that was in the past, he thought. The important thing was that in a few minutes his father would come down for breakfast, and he would give him an irrefutable demonstration of the device. And papa would believe him. That's what mattered.

He opened the closet and scanned it for the device. With growing anxiety, he searched every nook and cranny of the closet. Trying not to overthink, he left the room, ran down the stairs, and hurried to his "workshop" behind the garage. It wasn't there either.

He felt a punch to his gut. He wasn't entirely sure if the punch had come from the outside or the inside. He wasn't sure of anything, and he didn't care. The pain of the impact dissolved in concentric circles that numbed his limbs and dulled his brain.

He sat down on a crate. Breakfast, he thought. I have to go eat breakfast, I have to tell papa that I'm building an incredible device that makes things disappear. That I can't find the little device... It disappeared too. I have get papa to believe me, to believe me without proof... Without proof.

For the first time in years, he felt like crying. But he didn't cry. He tried to reason things out. The fog of despair was beginning to dissipate. Still confused by the bitterness and disappointment, he thought he saw a way out of the nightmare. He got up. He moved some spools of wire piled up in a corner of the small room. There was the second device he had hidden the night before. And the battery too. With this as a starting point, he could prove to his father that his ideas weren't all fantasies. Then, in time, he would have built another device just like the first one... What had happened to the first one? He immediately thought of the stranger dressed in black. And of the señorita. But he didn't want to accuse her again, without proof... Suddenly he knew. That was what had been timidly knocking at the threshold of his consciousness. What proof did señorita Kiersen have? Who had seen the stranger besides herself? They believed her without proof. She could've very well stolen his father's ideas. She could've overheard the conversation that day in the study. Upon hearing that Rino had stopped in the middle of a sentence, she could've very well quickly gone downstairs and pretended to see the stranger. To deflect suspicion and at the same time create an alibi for future occasions. There was still no proof of all this, but it was a good theory to start with.

He adjusted the rheostat and the inverter switch on the crude wooden box. He made sure it was working and headed towards the house. The car was still parked outside. His father was reading a magazine at the dining room table, alone.

Rino sat down and placed the small box in front of him.

- "I'm sorry if I'm late, papa," he said. "Could you pass me the coffee?"

Grandi looked at him in surprise, but put down the magazine and picked up the silver coffee pot. Or rather, he tried to pick it up. It didn't budge an inch.

- "It's not nailed to the table, papa." Rino guessed what his father was thinking. He released the spring and moved the small box.

Grandi lifted the coffee pot without difficulty and handed it to his son. Without giving him time to speak, Rino tipped the coffee onto the table. But the coffee didn't stain the metal. With some difficulty, it came out of the spout and remained floating in the air, like a thick, dark cloud.

Rino pointed the tiny opening on the front towards himself. He pressed a finger against the table and slowly, effortlessly, lifted himself into the air, remaining perfectly horizontal.

- "Enough, Rino," there was an unusual quality in Grandi's voice.

Rino sat down again and remained silent.

- "There's no need for all this. You were right. I've known since yesterday. The other day I talked to Keller about your crazy idea. The one about using the electroencephalograph for psychotherapy. Keller didn't have much to do and started testing it right away, almost as a joke. It couldn't do any harm, anyway. He took two incurable cases: a patient with catatonic schizophrenia and a paranoid woman. I spoke with them yesterday. Both were perfectly sane."

Grandi stood up and examined the small wooden box.

- "Now explain to me how this works... if I can understand it," he added sweetly.

In a quarter of an hour, Rino had climbed out of a deep well of despair to complete and total happiness. So much so that for a moment he had forgotten about the missing device.

Grandi listened to the story in silence.

- "You might be right about señorita Kiersen too," he said softly. "But if she stole your... device, why isn't she afraid of being suspected? Or pursued?"

- "I don't know..." Rino hid the device under the table. "But I suppose... She might think that she has a few days to get the device out of the house. She might have figured that without the device as evidence, I wouldn't dare make accusations. And even if I did, nobody would believe me. She doesn't know I built this other one yesterday. But if we stay here too long, she might get suspicious. I'm just realizing how terrible invisibility could be in the hands of a thief."

- "Or a spy. Or a warlike nation... Come on, let's go..."

The sound of the car starting with a loud roar echoed through the open window; they arrived in time to see it disappear around the first bend, in a shower of gravel; señorita Kiersen also stole cars...

- "You were right about everything," Grandi said, and without further comment, he went to the telephone. He notified the local police and spoke with a senator friend, imploring him to use his influence to expedite police action. Then he called the clinic to say he wouldn't be coming in. He requested a call with David Janvier in Geneva. Janvier headed the United Nations Information Center there.

Then he poured two cups of cold coffee and lit a cigarette.

- "Okay. What do we do now?" he asked.

* * *

Grandi canceled his lunch appointment with Keller and was now sitting in the place prepared for señorita Kiersen, across from Rino. Juana was attending them, half-dead from curiosity, not daring to ask what was going on.

They spent the morning ransacking the shelves of a large electronics store. Rino indulged himself in a shopping spree. He intended to build another invisibility device, and give the two existing ones a more compact form and a more agreeable appearance.

They had always been friends. But today, more than ever, there was a warm atmosphere of camaraderie between father and son. Rino felt more mature, closer to his father. And Dr. Grandi, without forgetting the serious responsibility that weighed upon him, felt like a child on vacation.

In between humita after humita, Rino gave free rein to unusual verbosity.

- "You'll see this afternoon," he said, "it makes everything disappear completely. Juana's seen it. She's convinced it's some kind of trick. To be honest, I don't see any practical use for it... except perhaps for the police."

- "Whose police? The police are dependent on governments, and I get chills just thinking about what they could do with invisibility in the event of a war... But you're right, it would be of incalculable use in the service of an international police force..."

- "Does that actually exist?"

- "In reality, no, but there is the UN, which could form a permanent police force. With the incredible help of your two principles, the old dream of the League of Nations would become a reality. That is, if we succeed in finding your device. If, because of me, it were to fall into the hands of some power..."

- "It's not your fault, papa."

- "It's not anyone else's, I can assure you. If I only listened to you last year..."

- "That wouldn't have made any difference, because I didn't have a clear understanding of things back then. I honestly don't think I could've built the devices whose principles I tried to explain to you. When I realized you didn't understand me, I knew it must be my fault. I started reading your technical encyclopedia from cover to cover. There I found the terms I needed to speak your language, the language of everyone. I didn't just learn the terminology. That wouldn't have been enough. The words themselves already imply a preliminary process of organization, and once I had the right terms, it became infinitely easier for me to classify my concepts, and I began to see things clearly. Until then, I was no better than the ancient alchemists, with their beautiful but confused and disorderly ideas about the philosopher's stone, the elixir of life, perpetual motion...

"I was talking about a metal hungry for little balls of light, but I didn't know it was silence, I didn't know its other properties, and it would have been impossible for me to describe and locate it."

- "You were speaking in zoomorphic terms. You've condensed evolution that took several centuries into a single year, bringing about the great metamorphosis: from alchemy to modern science. The magnificent leap from Aristotle's empiricism to the method of analysis-synthesis-experimentation, first crystallized by the genius of Descartes. It's incredible that the scientific method of reasoning, despite its extraordinary successes, even in fields previously not considered relevant to science, still finds detractors in our time. Hypochondriacs who, with their nerves frayed by the ringing of the telephone or the mold on a can of food, fail to distinguish between the mass production of technology and science itself, and vent their frustrations against the latter."

- "Yes, I would've remained stuck in the phase of sterile speculation if I hadn't learned to reason methodically and classify ideas in the same way that you organize your library. Before reading the encyclopedia, I devised a system for achieving invisibility, but between little balls of light, rabbit metals, and ostrich crystals, I was utterly confused. I didn't know where to begin. As soon as I clarified the concepts of photon, gravity, atom, and valence, I began to find my footing. I realized that to deflect light, I first needed to control gravity. It's not easy to control something if you don't know what it is. The encyclopedia didn't tell me anything useful about gravitational fields, so I set about to clarify this concept.

"I saw that everything in the universe is attraction, or its antithesis. I've read many names: gravitational force, chemical affinity, molecular cohesion, valencies... All of them can be condensed into a single, universal scheme. In an atom, the nucleus and electrons remain in equilibrium due to their opposite and almost equal electrical charges. That insignificant difference, determined by the number of electrons in outer orbit, constitutes an atom's capacity to bond with another to form a molecule. That's valence. But the valencies of two atoms never exactly neutralize one another, and a capacity for attraction remains, a residual valence that attracts molecules to one another. This is the molecular cohesion from your encyclopedia. Molecules don't completely balance their fractional valencies, and therefore each body retains a tiny surplus of valence. A small charge that attracts masses to one another. This is nothing other than universal attraction, gravity...

"Once all these forces were unified into a single force, the valence, the rest was simple. I increase or decrease the peripheral electrons with cathode rays to modify the valence. If I increase it, the final residue will also increase, that is, the force of gravity.

"To alter the valence without causing chemical disturbances in the compound bodies, it's sufficient to analyze the radiation that each element emits, and return several types of corresponding cathode rays to them."

- "I understood something," Grandi observed, "especially your plan for unifying the forces. It's beautiful, like all simple things. That's what this world needs. Unification. There are too many dualisms..."

He finished eating and was smoking cigarette after cigarette, listening. The phone remained silent. Rino took out the fruit bowl and, eating grapes, continued.

- "The majority of fiction on the subject of invisibility is focused on making the object itself invisible. They increase its absorption or refraction index, depending on the approach. This would supposedly cause the object to disappear, but instead, a beautiful black or white spot would appear in its place. I, however, focused on the need to make what lies behind the object visible.

"Then I remembered reading that, according to a certain Einstein, photons are affected by a gravitational field. This led to the reasoning behind valencies and gravity control. Obviously, I couldn't change the object's weight. I used the same photons that continuously surround the body. I subjected them to an inverted field that repels the rays of light and forces them into orbit around the body itself. By adjusting the intensity to obtain a 180-degree deflection, the light coming from the side opposite the observer appears to travel in a straight line, and the object disappears. That's all there is to it. In reality, the device is nothing more than a photoreflector, whose basic principle isn't my invention, but rather that Einstein's."

- "Yes, of course, 'that' Einstein," Grandi murmured.

* * *

When the phone calls started, they all came in at once.

The Buenos Aires police sent a description of Kiersen to all the shipping and airline companies. Panair do Brasil booked a ticket to Miami, Florida, in the name of a Countess Mira Vlavic, who was traveling with a Bulgarian diplomatic passport. The flight was at 13:30.

The senator had pulled strings with such vigor that there was direct communication between the Argentine and Brazilian Government Houses. Despite her diplomatic passport, the Rio de Janeiro police detained an incredibly furious countess, who already disembarked from the plane and was about to disappear into the Rio crowd.

The Brazilian authorities requested that the Argentine authorities kindly "send one or more persons without delay who are capable of identifying the detainee and are qualified to file charges." There was no mention of the stolen box.

David Janvier, Grandi's colleague and friend, was in practice the liaison between UNESCO and its parent organization, the UN. His phone call was very brief. He thanked them for the reports and said that an agent from "mother" was going to Rio to meet with them.

- "Okay, we'll be there tomorrow," Grandi replied.

* * *

It was, for Rino, his first trip on an airplane. Before boarding, he admired the powerful four-engine aircraft from the outside. His enthusiasm didn't prevent him from observing and taking in the details of its construction. He was always constructing airplanes in his imagination. He made a mental note to include a very interesting accessory in his next flying machine: a stewardess in a tight-fitting, elegant uniform. Pretty like the one who was now solicitously attending to the small, gray-haired lady who, from her seat across the aisle, was protesting with a vigor strangely out of proportion to her stature. The smiling stewardess said she would gladly open the window, if it weren't so unfortunate as to be fixed. Why yes, it was true that on any tram one can open the window whenever one feels like it, as long as it works. Although it's also true that trams don't fly at four thousand meters high. Why no, señora, the company had no desire for passengers to become unwell. Its greatest wish was that the passengers could "breathe some fresh air," and so the plane would have a state-of-the-art air conditioning system installed...

The stewardess maintained her friendly smile as she changed the seat of a dark-skinned gentleman with prominent cheekbones who suffered from claustrophobia and "needed" to sit near the door, when a young woman, impossibly thin, yet even skinnier, started explaining to her neighbors that she didn't need to travel. She didn't have to go anywhere. But she flew very often, hoping to be reunited soon with her husband who died in a plane crash the previous year. The young woman in the next seat watched her silently in fascination.

- "Maybe it'll be on this very trip," the lady added gently, to reassure her.

Rino was observing everything.

- "I also have fun at school sometimes by watching my classmates."

- "Yes," his father said, "very few adults behave as such... And very few children behave like adults. Without ceasing to be children," he added, looking at Rino affectionately.

Since the previous day, he had been thinking about the exceptional characteristics of his son's mind a great deal. Partly as a father and partly out of professional interest. Rino possessed an incredible maturity, not only for a child his age, but also for any normal adult. Perhaps he himself could contribute to analyzing and clarifying the mystery of his own psychic superiority. Almost all truly great men have been excellent psychoanalysts of themselves. Starting with Socrates...

Any job requires a good understanding of the tools that it employs. Man, whose specific task is to think, cannot truly be called man if he does not learn to understand thoroughly that marvelous machine enclosed within his skull.

He wanted to talk to Rino about that topic, but he didn't know where to begin. Most people are as reluctant to talk about the workings of their own brain, like a woman explains how her car engine works... "I press the accelerator and the car goes faster... It's very simple."

- "Have you ever thought," he finally said, slowly, "about how you manage to think?"

- "Naturally, papa." Rino seemed surprised by the question. "I don't know how it could be any other way. It seems to me that you can act without controlling your thoughts. And in that case, the outcome of the exercise is a product of chance. Fifty percent chance of success and fifty percent chance of failure. But thinking, true intellectual creation, requires conscious control." Rino turned to look at the man with the prominent cheekbones, sitting two rows behind them.

- "I actually wanted to talk to you about this," he continued. "I have the impression that others don't think like me. That the organization of my brain is different. Sometimes my classmates can't solve a simple problem. I think it's because they can't retain all the problem's data and reason at the same time. I think, if I may say so, on three levels. On one level, I retain all the data. That's the first step. Well, then on the second level, I observe that data, hundreds of pieces at once if I want, and I make connections. When I've worked out a partial step of the problem, even a provisional one, I add it to the raw materials on the first level. That way, the second level is entirely free for making associations. Furthermore, I feel another faculty inside of me, which I'll call the third level of ideation. It's as if I were three different individuals working toward the same goal. One gathers information, the second processes it, and the third controls and directs. I observe myself thinking. And I enjoy it. When I think, I feel just like a fish swimming or a bird flying... Do you understand what I mean?" he asked anxiously.

- "That's exactly what I thought; but you've expressed it very well. Yes. You're different from most people. I believe there were always men capable of thinking on three levels. Archimedes, Galileo, Francis Bacon, Newton, Descartes, Darwin, Einstein, and a few others couldn't have thought any other way. It's the only way to see clearly and produce truly human creations. Those I've mentioned are examples of what humanity can be. There must've been many more born with this ability. But few have come into the world in favorable environments and circumstances. The rest of humanity was too busy acting haphazardly to select them, bring them to the forefront, and help them. On the contrary, they've always been persecuted by every means and crushed by the sheer weight of the masses. Most of the truly brilliant minds have been unable to develop and have perished in obscurity. You, on the other hand, are perhaps the first to be born in a favorable environment and in a critical era. When the others were born, psychology, which is now in its adolescence, hadn't even been conceived. Perhaps your mind will allow you to find a way to select or increase the number of those who can think clearly, on three levels. You couldn't perform a greater task."

- "I don't think it would be impossible for me to do something in that regard. But for that, I need your help. I have to study everything that's been written in psychiatry, psychology, genetics, social sciences, political economy... not to mention history. That way I won't have to start researching everything from scratch.

"Besides the three levels," he continued in a different tone, "I also possess emotions, like everyone else. Right now I'm feeling two of them: curiosity and a little fear. The gentleman sitting near the door doesn't suffer from claustrophobia."

- "How do you know that, and why does it scare you?"

- "He's been looking at us almost this entire time. If he suffered from claustrophobia, he would be looking at the door."

Grandi glanced back out of the corner of his eye. Rino was right. That face with its prominent cheekbones and the gaze that met his own were anything but pleasant.

- "He can't be blamed for being so ugly. He could very well be the agent that Janvier promised to send." But his voice lacked conviction. If he wasn't the agent from the UN, who could he be? That familiar feeling of extreme repugnance at any form of violence welled up in him again. The man positioned himself near the door so he could follow them more easily when they left. There could be a physical attack, in order to seize the briefcase containing the two devices... The disgust gave way to a shiver of fear at the thought of the danger Rino would be in. Because of him.

A hand reached out towards the small white suitcase. Tense, holding his breath, Grandi followed with his gaze the arm that almost brushed his face and was met with a radiant smile.

- "The overhead compartment is very light," the stewardess said, "and your suitcase looks heavy. If you don't mind, we could put it here on the floor. That way it will also be more convenient for you if you need to take something out."

She was very young. But the pleasant features of her slightly asymmetrical face revealed a strong personality and a quiet wisdom. Her well-modulated voice conveyed a pleasant sense of calm. Like most people accustomed to speaking several languages ​​fluently, she lacked any pronounced regional accent.

When Grandi placed the small suitcase under his feet, the attendant said without moving her lips:

- "Mother sends her regards," she said, and then added loudly, "We'll be in Rio in an hour."

* * *

Senhor Ribeiro didn't belong to an official police force. But he acted as if he were right at home in the spacious office on the first floor of Police Headquarters. He weighed about 120 kilos, and was solidly built, without giving the impression of being obese. Rather, he exuded strength. When speaking, he moved his hands gracefully and captivated his listeners with the expressive play of muscles in his face.

With an elegant gesture, he indicated a chair next to his enormous desk.

- "You don't have to stand at attention, Captain. I'm not your superior. I didn't even get to sergeant when I did my military service."

Captain Cicero smoothed his uniform with a mechanical gesture. He sat down and accepted a cigarette.

- "Both of them are being watched..."

- "Guests of honor," senhor Ribeiro interrupted with a smile.

- "They're being watched. At least four friendly powers are keeping an eye on them, not counting our own and the UN..."

- "Very quick, Captain," Ribeiro praised. "I'm glad this matter is in your hands. Please continue. I'm listening."

- "The two guests of honor arrived an hour ago. I received them with the utmost deference and escorted them to the hotel with an escort of twelve uniformed officers..."

- "That wasn't very wise."

- "And four rental cars full of plainclothes officers. They were going to have dinner in their room. The hotel is completely surrounded, as discreetly as possible. They were carrying two suitcases. During the customs inspection, the larger one turned out to be full of personal belongings, and the smaller one was completely empty. Both were carrying a small package hidden under their raincoats. 'They haven't been subjected to a personal search. On the way here, I answered several questions. Yes, Professor, we have detained Countess Mira Vlavic... Very irregular, since she was traveling with a diplomatic passport.' 'Yes, Professor, we've verified that it's authentic.' 'No, Professor, she wasn't carrying any box. Only very elegant and perfumed personal effects. Yes, Professor, I'm sure. I personally conducted the search. I'm very sorry, but we won't be able to extend the arrest. After all, she can't be charged with any crime. And the diplomatic passport... And the complications...' In the end, I promised them that tomorrow at ten o'clock they will be given all possible official explanations and assurances. I requested instructions regarding Tom Ring, a special agent from the State Department in Washington, Dr. Julio Jiménez from Buenos Aires, Paul Horst from East Germany, and two others. They all arrived today from different places, by plane."

- "How quickly news travels!" senhor Ribeiro offered a mint and popped one into his mouth. "Five special agents in one day. Not counting those who will arrive tomorrow. It's no wonder. The little box you took from the Countess could change the face of the world, if our agents' reports are accurate. As for Ring and the others, leave them be for now. They might be more useful than dangerous. After all, we have the device."

He opened a side drawer of his desk and tapped his knuckles on the crude little box.

- "Here it is," he said, "our two 'experts' just brought it back. They say they can't get it to work without taking it apart, and I haven't authorized that. We also have the boy, and he'll cooperate with us, whether he wants to or not. It's pointless, for now, to risk damaging it."

- "There's no danger," Captain Cicero interrupted, "our scientific minds haven't been very bright this time. We put a little pressure on the Bulgarian Countess today and learned that the device is missing the battery. A common six-volt battery. Simple, isn't it? If that's the case, we no longer need the boy and can eliminate him tonight, as we planned. Vlavic says the father knows nothing about how the device works."

The excitement caused senhor Ribeiro's facial features to lose their usual expressiveness for a moment.

- "Let's go!" he said. And he reached out his hand toward the open drawer, where the small box was. His hand remained suspended in mid-air. He looked at the Captain, then back at the drawer.

The device, which vibrated under his knuckles three minutes earlier, was no longer there.

* * *

The newspapers were reporting on the usual things. A new escalation in tensions between Eurasia and Euramerica. Disagreements among the nations within both blocs. Rumors of a possible dissolution of the UN, whose influence was rapidly approaching zero. Sensational revelations about the recent failure of the first expedition to the Moon. According to "well-informed sources," a vile act of sabotage was the cause of the formidable explosion that destroyed the spacecraft upon its arrival at the satellite. Stubborn opposition in France to the projected abolition of divorce. A new method of fighting cancer. Stubborn opposition in Italy to the projected legalization of divorce. The stereographic actress Rita Galworth broke all records with her eleventh marriage. The last two conducted in that same year, 1956. Constant decrease in worker productivity causing apprehension. A proposal for an upcoming increase in the workday from five to seven hours. Señorita Juana Smith, upon her death, left twenty-seven million dollars to her cat, Josecito.

Grandi was distractedly reading to pass the time. Rino hadn't returned. He left immediately after Captain Cicero, and he hadn't been able to stop him. He looked at his watch. Only an hour had gone by. He tried to calm himself down. If everything went well, there soon wouldn't be any more talk about the imminent dissolution of the United Nations. On the contrary, the UN would see a new dawn. The application of the principles discovered by Rino would not require, like the first atomic bomb, the resources of a powerful nation. The meager funds of the ailing UN would be sufficient for building the first thousand devices and their derivatives. With the exclusive possession of two peaceful forces as powerful as invisibility and gravity control, it wouldn't be difficult to organize, for the first time in the world, a truly effective international police force. The UN charter would cease to be a dead letter. Any form of international violence, and any exploitation of the credulity of the people by politicians, would be punished as violence and theft between individuals are punished today. At first it would be difficult, but not impossible. Many would call it a dictatorship in disguise. But with time, a new consciousness would be created, and all of humanity would learn to accept an international police force, just as, thousands of years ago, they accepted the prototype of the national police. People would turn to the international organization, just as today they turn to the police officer on the corner.

Grandi got up and paced around the room. Just earlier, he'd received a phone call. A masculine voice said, "Mother sends her regards," and announced a visit for that very evening. A masculine voice!...

So the beautiful stewardess wasn't the agent promised by Janvier. Unless the impostor was the stranger on the phone. Only one could be the real one; why would have Janvier made the mistake of increasing confusion by sending two agents at the same time with the same code? It hadn't been difficult at all to accept the idea that señorita Kiersen betrayed his confidence. But, strangely, the present dilemma was far more important. Logically, it shouldn't be, and yet, it suddenly acquired paramount importance. When that face, in which beauty and intelligence were combined, leaned toward him, murmuring those four foolish words, a new joy took hold of him. With the anticipation of the pleasure of seeing her again. But not as an adversary.

The door opened without a sound. It was the man with the prominent cheekbones. The one who suffered from claustrophobia. He was wearing a waiter's uniform and carrying a tray with two cups of coffee. After uttering those four words, he quickly and precisely explained "mother's" instructions. He mentioned Janvier and his phone call from Geneva.

He knew too many details to be an impostor. Trying not to think about the flight attendant, Grandi decided to provisionally accept him as an ally. He explained Rino's absence, and they prepared to wait for him. The newcomer said he had a plan to bypass the local police cordon. A direct flight to New York would be waiting for them at the airport. They had to get Rino and his equipment to New York at any cost so he could safeguard his discoveries. They would benefit the entirety of humanity, not the imperialistic aims of certain governments.

They were about to finish their two cups of coffee when the phone rang. The other man jumped in surprise.

- "Don't answer," he said, "it's better that way."

- "But why? It could very well be Rino," Grandi replied, and went to the telephone.

- "Trust me, don't answer it. I'll explain later. Orders from above. If you insist, I'll be forced to detain you by force." A bulky automatic pistol with a silencer appeared in his hand.

In that brief moment of indecision, Grandi's feelings shifted from instinctive fear of the weapon to the revulsion he felt toward any form of violence and the arbitrary restriction of his individual freedom. And, above all, he felt a sudden hope, a surprising relief. It could be her on the phone. It could be her, the true messenger from Janvier, and in that case, the other man's strange behavior made sense. His hand rose, hesitantly, toward the receiver.

A gunshot echoed loudly in the room. It was followed, like an echo, by the dull thud of a body falling.

* * *

Rino encountered no significant difficulties in following Captain Cicero. He simply followed him. When the captain got into the police car, Rino climbed onto the large rear bumper and settled comfortably on the spongy plastic material.

During their journey, he mentally noted the streets they were passing through. He memorized the hotel's location perfectly, but when the car descended into the underground light rail tunnels, he became disoriented. Several times he needed to adjust the position of the photodeflector that kept him invisible. The support he improvised with wires wasn't very sturdy. Its purpose was to hold the device about thirty centimeters from his body. Only in that position could it deflect the light rays around his body and simultaneously envelop him in its own deflection field.

The Valens, as his father had christened the gravity modifier, bulged in one of his large pockets.

The Captain stepped out of the car when it stopped at the underground entrance of the Police Headquarters. Rino followed him closely, entered the main elevator with him, walked down the long corridors of the first floor, and almost brushed against the Captain as he slipped in behind him into senhor Ribeiro's office.

Throughout the entire conversation, he remained seated in a corner, motionless. He thanked fate when the unexpected opportunity arose to retrieve his first deflector from the open drawer.

Senhor Ribeiro's utter bewilderment upon discovering that the small drawer vanished before his very eyes lasted only a few moments. He immediately grabbed the telephone. Aware that everything depended on his speed, he spoke.

- "Operation State of Siege," he said without raising his voice. "Emergency shutdown of all elevators. Double guard. Inner and outer cordon."

While the muffled thunder produced by the closing of the heavy gates roared, and while the general alarm blared, Rino remained calm in his corner. He grudgingly admired senhor Ribeiro's quick thinking, but he wasn't overly concerned about the alarm. It wouldn't be difficult for him to leave the building using the same method he had used to enter: following the Captain. It was very likely he would immediately return to the hotel.

- "Captain," Ribeiro was saying, "run to the hotel and secure the other devices. We'll consider this one lost, at least for the moment. I don't know why I sounded the general alarm. My experience hasn't prepared me for dealing with miracles..."

He slowly raised his hand to stop the other man, who had already stood up to leave.

- "Miracles..." he repeated.

For the second time, his mobile features froze. Suddenly, his hand went to the central drawer and he pulled out a revolver.

- "Get your gun out," he erupted, "and cover the doors and windows. If he can't kill us both with one shot, we've got him. Do you understand, Cicero? Invisibility is a kind of miracle. It can't be anything else. Whoever he is, he came in with you and he couldn't have left. We would have seen the doors open... and he couldn't have gotten out through this window without touching me. We're going to call for reinforcements and we'll search every square inch of this office."

Without taking his eyes off the doors, he gave some orders over the phone. The room would soon fill up with men.

The Captain, as pale as someone suffering from pernicious anemia, had pressed himself against a wall, pistol in hand.

Rino had to exert painful control over his muscles to keep from running. If he ran, the noise would betray him. If he moved slowly, the two men at alert might discover his footprints in the thick plastic carpet under his feet... and riddle him with bullets. They might notice the two small indentations made by his weight at any moment. If he could only stop being afraid for a few minutes before the room filled with twenty armed men. That violent fear impeded his thought.

"Thought," his father once told him, "is the only part of us that's always absolutely free. It can only succumb to the paralyzing effect of negative emotions if it loses awareness of its own freedom. Remember that you are free, and you will be."

With the fear factor miraculously switched off, he felt his ability to think "on three levels" return. Slowly, so as not to make a sound, he tucked the small box under his arm, too large to fit in a pocket. He took out the Valens and switched it on. He counted to four, giving the small cathode tubes time to warm up. In quick succession, he made several adjustments.

The Captain and senhor Ribeiro, almost simultaneously, were lifted two meters into the air and fell heavily to the ground. Rino ran towards Ribeiro and, stepping over his stunned body, jumped out the window.

With the Valens pointed towards himself, he managed to slow his fall to two meters above the courtyard floor. He set the controls to a moderate negative thrust and slowly gained altitude.

Almost immediately, an unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach warned him that he was about to get dizzy. He knew his feet were pointing toward the ground, but his senses contradicted his awareness. He felt as if he were falling headfirst. It must be the effect of inverted gravity.

With a series of abrupt movements of his legs and back, he managed to reverse his position. He immediately felt better.

The three devices were seriously impeding him. All his muscles ached, and his hands were trembling. He was desperately tired. He wanted to rest and not think about anything. But it wasn't possible. He had to make one more effort... Think, think...

The repulsing acceleration increased. Before anything else, he had to get rid of the first deflector. His left arm was already numb from the effort of holding the small box. But he couldn't just drop it onto Police Headquarters.

Now he was climbing rapidly. He must be three or four thousand meters high. Perhaps more, judging by the cold. Shivering, he switched off the device and put it in his pocket. With his arms free, it was easy to open the small compartment. He tore out all the internal wires and all the parts that weren't screwed in. He pulled them out forcefully in various directions and finally let the empty box fall. For a few moments, he watched it as it fell, as if he didn't want to let go of his first creation.

He was still more than a thousand meters up, falling rapidly.

A few seconds later, he started climbing again. Now his hands were completely free. The photodeflector, switched off, was in his pocket, and the Valens was in its place in the wire support.

Climbing at a moderate speed, he started to get used to the unusual nature of his situation. He felt less tired. And hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since lunch on the plane.

It was already night. Above his head, the city glowed with multicolored lights, and the milky surface of the bay reflected the rising moon.

He tried to overcome the feeling of urgency that overwhelmed him. For the moment, the essential thing was to tame and learn how to rationally utilize the enormous forces the Valens unleashed with such abundant generosity. Evidently, the gravitational field acted only along the Earth's radius, that is, vertically. He could go up or down like an elevator, but he couldn't fly like a bird. For a moment he thought that to move horizontally, all he would have to do is blow. The small jet of air could easily move, by reaction, the weight of his body, which had been reduced to zero. Rocket effect. But that wasn't the case. While it was true that he could vary his own weight at will, his mass remained constant. And since inertia is a function of mass, regardless of weight, the effect of his device did not in any way reduce the force necessary to give his body any horizontal acceleration. He thought of the centrifugal force due to the Earth's rotation. But no! Because of his invariable inertia, his body continued to accompany the Earth in its rotational movement. The force had to be transformed by mechanical means... The inclined plane.

More easily than the first time, he spun around again. He no longer felt any discomfort. On the contrary, he began to enjoy the unique sensation of falling towards the stars.

Inverting the device's action, he started to fall towards the ground with an acceleration of approximately two gs. Using his jacket like a tiny sail, he managed to convert a small part of his falling velocity into horizontal movement. With satisfaction, he soon saw that the city lights seemed to be moving beneath his feet. If only he had a larger surface at his disposal, especially one more rigid than the hem of his jacket... For the moment, he had to make do. Gliding several times, alternately ascending and descending, he approached the city center. He chose one of the tallest buildings and landed on the dark rooftop. He placed the deflector in its support. Now invisible, with the Valens in his hand, he jumped from the rooftop and slowly descended to the brightly illuminated and bustling street.

Avoiding collisions with pedestrians as best he could, he walked slowly and aimlessly. He shouldn't be anywhere near the hotel. Hunger was making itself felt, growing ever more insistent with every food shop window he passed.

At the corner, traffic was at a standstill. He climbed onto the bumper of a car and desperately tried to get his bearings as it moved along. The vehicle was already moving away from the city center, without having passed any of the few streets he had managed to remember. His father would be worried by now about his prolonged absence. Captain Cicero might arrive before him, and his father would be in danger. Now that he learned to handle his two devices with ease, he felt stronger. Somehow, he would manage to help his father. But he had to get there soon. Orient himself. Find the hotel in this enormous city, without knowing the language, without asking for directions, without being seen by anyone. That would be far too dangerous.

The car was passing through a large, tree-lined square. In front of it, an imposing building could be seen, which might have been a train station.

Without wasting any time, Rino got off the vehicle. He rose into the air and, maneuvering skillfully, landed at the building's entrance. Once, in Buenos Aires, he saw a large map of the city in the lobby of a train station. If he could find a map of Rio, he could locate the hotel's street and orient himself from the air using the bay and Sugarloaf Mountain as reference points...

Determined, he entered the station.

* * *

The room looked more like a police station than a hotel room. There were several officers there, both in uniform and in plain clothes, two nurses, and a man who appeared to be the medical examiner. The nurses had placed a lifeless body on a stretcher, and the physician was apparently examining it.

Despite his own unusual situation, Rino immediately recognized the man lying on the stretcher. It was the first time he had witnessed death, and his mind, confronted with a disturbing sense of unreality, tried to reject any thought concerning the cessation of life. It was exactly as his father had predicted: 

"The first time you see a person you know who is dead," he had explained on one occasion, "you won't feel fear or revulsion, but the same bewilderment that primitive man felt before the inexplicable light of lightning.

"The terror that many feel at the mere idea of ​​death is an unnecessary psychosis. Through mental inertia, they shy away from thinking about this strange transition because, at first glance, they can't clearly grasp its meaning. Thinking is too much effort for some, and they prefer to lock the idea away in a cell of their innocent minds, where it remains like a hidden tumor.

"If there were no intellectual cowardice and men used their entire minds, instead of rendering corner after corner of their brains useless with the debris of incomplete, disagreeable, or taboo ideas, we psychiatrists wouldn't have so much work."

Having rationalized his initial shock, Rino tried to understand why the man with the prominent cheekbones was there, dressed as a waiter and dead. He took a few steps across the ceiling to get closer to his father and Captain Cicero, who was questioning him. He discovered that this was the safest way to move around in a crowded room. It hadn't been difficult for him to find the hotel and go up to the fourth floor. But he encountered an unexpected difficulty there. The hallway was packed with waiters, maids, and curious onlookers who were shouting and crowding together to look into the room. It was impossible to pass without being discovered. So he reduced his own weight to the point of negative gravity, discovering that this way he could walk on the ceiling with complete ease, while everyone else appeared to him as if they were walking upside down. As he passed, he almost brushed against a head of blonde hair. The stewardess changed her uniform. She was now wearing, with equal elegance, the hotel's maid uniform. She was like an oasis of beauty and serenity among so many unfamiliar faces, stunned by fear or morbid curiosity. With difficulty suppressing the urge to speak to her, he had crossed the hallway and entered the room.

He was now in a position where he could have touched his father's head simply by raising his arm. He stretched as far as he could, until his mouth was just a few centimeters from Dr. Grandi's ear, and said in a low voice:

- "Papa."

Grandi didn't react quickly enough to suppress the instinctive reflex that made him turn his head slightly in the direction of the voice. He brought his handcuffed hands to his throat and gave a passable imitation of someone nervously adjusting their tie. Cicero continued speaking, unaware of anything unusual.

- "Your situation is not enviable, Professor," he said. "An innocent Chilean journalist comes to interview you about UNESCO's cultural and scientific activities, and you shoot him in the back. It wasn't self-defense. The poor man was unarmed, since no other revolver was found besides yours. And don't forget your status as a foreigner."

- "I have no doubt whatsoever that I'll be condemned to death... unless you declare that you killed him from the half-open doorway," Grandi assented in a soft voice, "and unless you show me the silenced pistol that's bulging in your right pocket."

- "And yet," Cicero continued, as if he hadn't heard him, "given your impeccable record, we could present your crime in a more favorable light, provided you're cooperative. There are great interests at stake," he added, as if to apologize.

The nurses left with the stretcher, accompanied by the examiner and some police. Only two uniformed police remained in the room, and four in the hallway, in front of the door.

Grandi made a gesture of impatience.

- "You don't need to paint a picture of how bad my situation is. All I care about is finding out what happened to my son. The rest is unimportant. I can tell you what I know... but not in public." He gestured toward the police officers and the open door.

Cicero glanced at the two closed windows... at the door blocked by his men, and nodded. The last two officers left, closing the door behind them.

- "An unnecessary precaution," Cicero apologized as he drew his pistol. He gestured to an armchair for Grandi and then sat down himself. "Well...?" he said.

Rino reduced the negative gravity and maneuvered slowly until his feet rested on the floor with gravity slightly less than normal. He had to repeat the trick that allowed him to escape from the Police Headquarters. But first, he had to lock the door to buy himself some time. He would need ten or fifteen seconds to open a window and get through it with his father.

- "Yes... yes..." the Captain said impatiently. "We already know all this. You -"

It was the abrupt interruption that indicated to Rino that something was wrong.

He was two meters away from the door. Turning his head, he met Cicero's gaze. Several times that day, he was startled by a pair of eyes fixed on him as if they could see him. The repetition of this experience had had the effect of reassuring him about the effectiveness of his invisibility.

But now there was a subtle difference in the quality of his gaze. Something indefinable that made him feel naked and defenseless. Like in bad dreams... You suddenly realize you're not at home. The setting has changed, and you're walking naked down long corridors whose endless doors could open at any moment. The endless search for a garment, a towel, any kind of rag to cover yourself... cover yourself. The agony that renews itself at every turn of the passageway. There, around the corner, there might be a pair of eyes, watching...

As the Captain was getting up, shouting, Rino found the cause. He straightened the bent wire with a swift movement, and the deflector refocused it from the precise distance. But Cicero was already running toward him, and at the same time the door opened. The room filled with men. He leaped to the side and simultaneously turned the rheostat of the Valens without thinking or measuring.

He heavily fell against the ceiling and remained there for a few moments, stunned by the impact and crushed by the excess of negative gravity.

Below him, the seven men formed a chain, slowly advancing and searching every square meter of the room. In the initial confusion, they hadn't heard the sound, but they would soon notice the particles of plaster on the floor that fell from the ceiling.

Ridiculous. It was ridiculous to think that he, alone, could be stronger than his pursuers. For a few hours, he had harbored the childish idea that a thirteen-year-old boy would be capable of resisting the police of a dozen states, the cunning senhor Ribeiro, the strong Captain Cicero, and an entire powerful police organization. And even if his trick hadn't failed and he had managed to escape the country, the pursuit wouldn't end. Other nations were waiting to seize his devices. They weren't interested in the basic principles, the fascinating natural laws that had allowed him to invent them, but rather in the many possibilities of applying them to war, to ideals of conquest or independence. He didn't understand how defeating or killing men could be considered an ideal. It had been far more fun to defy gravity and fly like a bird over the illuminated streets than to defeat Captain Cicero at Police Headquarters. He felt no pleasure seeing the latter limping, probably a consequence of his recent fall. He felt no pride in that small victory.

What should he do now?... Stay there like a rabbit in the headlights until they caught him? Or sprint like a hare? Maybe he still had time to throw himself out the window, through the glass. But he couldn't leave his father there. The glass... Something could be done with that glass... His head ached, and his brain was tired from all the effort of the last few hours. But he could still gather some information and put it together. No! He wouldn't cower there like a rabbit. He would run like a fox...

He approached the window and, taking off one of his shoes, struck it sharply. The glass shattered into a multitude of fragments that fell tinkling onto the balcony. The entire pane didn't break, but the hole was large enough to suggest that a boy's body could have passed through it.

The surprise, anger, and despair etched on Cicero's face wasn't a pretty sight. He bellowed some orders and ran off despite his limp, followed by his men.

Only Professor Grandi and two very frightened guards remained in the room. The invisible is always very effective. It makes a greater impression than the visible.

Rino didn't want to take any risks. But he was hesitant because it would have been unpleasant to stun them enough to escape comfortably.

He lowered himself to the floor and remained motionless in a corner, not far from the door. The two guards approached to light their cigarettes. Rino focused the device on both of them and, without excessive force, lifted them until they touched the ceiling. He set the device to maximum power, keeping them suspended there, more frightened than before. Without taking his eyes off them, he locked the door and slowly went to open the window.

- "Let's go, papa!" he said.

* * *

Caution didn't detract from Hilda Montiel's beauty. It returned her to a subtle spirituality. There was no harshness in her old-gold features, which retained their sweetness despite her composed seriousness.

She had removed her maid's cap and apron, and a pair of tortoiseshell glasses significantly altered her appearance.

The reading room on the fourth floor overlooked the hallway, where a few police officers and several onlookers still lingered. From her armchair, Hilda could see the door to the Grandi's room. Her anxiety about the fate of Professor Grandi and his son did not lessen any upon seeing Cicero and his men leave in such a hurry. She tried to calm herself by thinking that the requested help would soon arrive and she would be relieved of the responsibility that weighed so heavily on her.

She had been entrusted with a mission that she initially considered relatively simple. She was to discreetly accompany the Grandis. Facilitate their trip to New York and assist them in every way possible. That's what Janvier had told her on the phone the previous night. He spoke of his cultural activities in the service of UNESCO and advised her to utilize his family's extensive connections in South American industrial and business circles. Now she doubted Janvier's judgment. He should've chosen a man of action, not an idealist. Her worries began at the airport, when she saw the number of police. She had encountered countless small, unforeseen difficulties. It was already late when she was finally able to enlist the help of an influential person and speak to Professor Grandi on the phone. She introduced herself, and Grandi replied with a single sentence:

- "Seek help from the government!"

She hoped that the lawyer they promised to send would arrive before the police took the alleged murderer away.

She wasn't expecting the childlike voice that said in a low voice:

- "Señorita Hilda."

- "Señorita Hilda - the voice repeated - "I'm Rino. I know you want to help us."

- "Yes," she managed to say.

- "Papa is hiding on the rooftop. He says you can take us to New York."

The relief of knowing that Grandi was safe for the moment was obscured by a sense of what was at stake.

- "I have friends who might be able to help, despite what's happened. But the building is surrounded by a police cordon. For the moment, it's impossible to get out of here."

- "I think we can all go, if you'd like to come with us to show us where to go. Papa says it would be best to go somewhere inland."

- "Yes, but how?..."

She jumped in surprise when she felt a small hand take hers firmly. As if in a dream, she followed the invisible child to the automatic elevator.

On the dark rooftop, a shadow emerged to meet her.

- "Thanks for everything, señorita Montiel."

The handshake was warm and friendly, like between old friends.

Rino was working feverishly. The terrace could be searched at any moment.

The Valens was aimed at the heavy iron door that led to the rooftop. It lifted a few centimeters until it came off its hinges. Once it was on the ground, Rino removed the deflector and, using the wire support, secured the Valens to the edge of the metal plate, making sure it was pointed at the center of gravity of the large iron rectangle.

Grandi divined the girl's thoughts.

- "Rino isn't kidding," he said. "He knows what he's doing. I have no doubt he'll get us out of here with that rudimentary flying wing. A bit cramped, though. We'll have to squeeze in a bit to fit all three of us, lying down... Since yesterday, I've learned to believe in the unbelievable..."

Lying flat on the metal surface of the door, they felt it slowly lift. Rino slid back a few centimeters to adjust the angle, and increased the inverted gravity.

The ascent transformed into a rapid diagonal flight.

The sleeping city gradually grew smaller, until its outlines became visible. Beyond it stretched the fields, faintly illuminated by the moonlight, which was already beginning to fade.

- "To the west," Hilda said, having recovered her calm. Clinging tightly to the edge of the door, she gazed at the landscape. She was as excited as a little girl by the improbability of this silent flight. She felt neither fatigue nor cold and was beginning to glimpse the greatness of the small being who shivered, pressed against her body, and struggled as best he could to keep his eyes open.

- "We can go to Máximo Soria's country house. He has lots of influence in government circles. He's served as his country's delegate to conferences of various UN branches. Especially UNESCO, to which he's never denied his strong financial and political support. He makes a fortune manufacturing spirits, and he spends it helping to cultivate ideals."

- "Is it far from here?" Grandi asked.

- "About one hundred and twenty kilometers to the northwest. Dawn is approaching, and I think I'll be able to find the house with the light. I've been there several times. Yesterday I couldn't reach him in Rio because he was at his country house."

- "He might be able to obtain forged documents to get out of the country..."

- "If he's rich and idealistic," Rino hinted, opening his eyes a millimeter, "it would be easier and more pleasant for him to give us a small plane than to forge documents."

- "Yes, he has a private plane... But you couldn't go with him to... Or could you?"

- "We'd be more comfortable than with this door..."

Grandi had been watching how Rino maneuvered to achieve a continuous glide, with long, undulating movements. Upon reaching an altitude of 1,500 meters, he would cut the Valens and tilt the sheet forward. As he approached the ground, he would reverse the operation, shifting his weight backward.

When Rino fell into a deep sleep, he didn't wake him. Silently, he took the controls, and the strange glider continued on its way, without deviating from the way that Hilda indicated.

The sky was already brightening, and Grandi stayed at a higher altitude so as not to be seen from the ground.

The large house, surrounded by smaller buildings and a grove of trees among which the swimming pool and the only tennis court in the area stood out, was an unmistakable landmark. Hilda was surprised that she previously harbored a fear of not being able to find it.

* * *

- "Those who claim there's no earthly reward for good deeds", Máximo Soria was saying, serving more cocktails to Hilda, to his wife, and to Grandi - "don't understand a thing about statistics. Of course, there's no absolute guarantee of a reward. It's a statistical certainty. Ninety-five percent at least. What more do they want? That's more than roulette's meager three percent. Doing good deeds is the most profitable game.[Translator's note: Spanish reads "Comer buenas acciones," which is semantically nonsensical in context ("Eating good deeds"). A likely intended verb is "cometer".] The business that yields the highest dividends. I spent a million to improve the living standards of my workers because I felt sorry for their poverty and ignorance. I fired five percent of them. The rest, thanks to their increased efficiency, have earned me more than ten million. I contributed ten million to United Nations projects..."

- "Let's say fifteen..." Hilda interrupted with a smile.

- "Nineteen, if you want to be exact... And I've been rewarded with the greatest satisfaction of my life: having you all here and participating, in whatever way I can, in the birth of a new era."

At the edge of the swimming pool, Rino and Franco Soria were playing with little boats and laughing, happy and completely oblivious to everything around them.

- "You seem very confident that Rino's principles would be used for the good of humanity. But what if they fell into the hands of one or more nations? We're here, refugees in the only safe place in this entire country. We don't know if tomorrow our friend Ribeiro will decide to send someone out to find us... No, Máximo, that new era hasn't been born yet..."

- "It's been born in any case, my beautiful friend. If, instead of being used wisely by the UN, they fell into the hands of bloodthirsty madmen, an age of pandemonium would be born. A child, by himself, incapacitated four men and outwitted an entire police force. Imagine if those same forces were used on a large scale in war! If I'm not mistaken about the proportions, a one-ton Valens would uproot any major capital city in the world, hurling it, inhabitants and all, into the interplanetary abyss. For better or for worse, the world would change radically, I tell you!"

Grandi fell silent, smoking and contemplating the amber color of his cocktail.

- "We've been given a responsibility that's far too great for three people like us, with no political experience..."

- "That would actually be an advantage," Soria said.

- "I'm not saying we should act like most politicians, who are so preoccupied with the means that they forget the ends! However, it's always useful to know our adversaries' weapons. Believe me, I've never felt as much fear in my life as I have in these past three days."

- "I'm not afraid, as long as you stay here. We've taken every possible precaution. There are two trusted men on the roof. No one can approach the property without being seen. Rino never leaves his equipment. We've prepared a kind of raft made of wood reinforced with metal sheets and equipped with straps to secure the passengers. Rino hasn't explained it to me. With the straps, he can perform steeper descents at higher speeds, increasing the gravity and flying upside down. There are provisions and blankets on the raft. At the slightest alarm, you can take off in two minutes. In the meantime, I've sent for my airplane, which was being repaired. It should be here tomorrow or the day after."

- "And don't forget the spare batteries!" Rino shouted, without interrupting his current activity, which consisted of doing a good imitation of "Peg-Leg the Pirate." Franco was the Black Corsair.

- "Let's be honest," Grandi exclaimed. "We all have the same concern. Let's just say it. We feel reasonably safe here. But we're all afraid. We wish his plane never comes. When it does, we'll have to decide. And the only possible decision will be to go to New York and hand over the keys to the world to the UN Security Council..."

- "On American soil..." Soria interjected. "The United States is one of the most civilized nations in the world. They don't want war. They would do anything to avoid or end conflicts. They're so pacifist that they've participated in three wars in the last forty years!"

- "The Security Council offers the greatest guarantees of pacifism. But they are men. Most of them are politicians. None of its eleven members forgets that he represents his own nation. His fatherland. The greatest atrocities in history were committed in the name of the fatherland."

- "In the name of any fatherland whatsoever," said Mrs. Soria. "Let's go have lunch!"

* * *

Araújo, one of Soria's trusted men, arrived running onto the terrace.

- "A car's coming, sir!" he said, panting. "One man alone. He'll have to get out twice to open the gates..."

Soria set his coffee cup down and went to the dining room. He took two of the three plastic devices that were there and gave them to Rino. Rino then disappeared.

- "Araújo, please tell the kitchen to bring more coffee for the visitors. And then go back to the rooftop." He sat down again. "I have a little hunch, and with your permission, I'm going to follow it to the end."

The luxury touring car stopped a few steps from the terrace. The newcomer climbed the short flight of steps with a spring in his step. Tall and athletic-looking, he introduced himself: Tom Ring from the State Department in Washington, on a special mission. Without being asked, he displayed an identification badge, a document with a photograph, and several letters from the State Department. Everything was authentic, there was no doubt about it.

He understood that Professor Grandi and his son were planning to go to New York and offered to take them there without any problems.

- "I'm sure the professor is very grateful for your offer," Soria said, looking somber. "But I see you're not aware of the tragedy. Yesterday afternoon, Rino was the victim of a terrible explosion. One of his experiments. I warned him it was dangerous... He wanted to increase the internal gravity of matter. That must have caused the electrons to get too close to the nucleus. There was probably a terrible chain reaction... An entire shed was blown up. You can see the crater that's left on the other side of the house." He made a vague gesture with his hand. "It was awful... Of all his wonderful inventions, only his first device for controlling gravity remains."

Soria went to the dining room and returned with a small plastic box.

- "Here it is," he said. "As soon as Professor Grandi has partially recovered from this terrible blow, he will take it to New York. The UN technicians may be able to deduce, by disassembling it, the principles of invisibility that are based on an increase in gravity. That's all we know."

Mr. Ring deeply mourned what happened. He offered Professor Grandi his sincerest condolences on behalf of the State Department and on his own behalf. He offered to accompany the professor to the United States. Or, if he preferred to stay, he could take the device to New York and deliver it to the UN.

- "Once again, thank you so much, Mr. Ring. But we can't accept your offer. The professor is firmly determined not to hand over the device to any nation. Not even to the Washington government, which offers the strongest guarantees of pacifism and political integrity."

- "I urge you to carefully think this through," Ring said. "It's dangerous to leave such an important device without adequate protection. It could fall into the hands of a belligerent nation. That would be a disaster for humanity..."

- "I'm sorry," Grandi intervened in a weak voice, "my decision is final."

- "In that case..." said Tom Ring, standing up.

The American's actions were lightning-fast. His movements, through perfect muscle coordination, seemed to blend into one fluid motion. He grabbed the device while a pistol appeared in his other hand, retreated to the terrace railing, and vaulted over it with an agile flip. Still covering those present with the gun, he ran a few steps and jumped into the car.

He sat there, stunned. He couldn't start the car because the ignition key was no longer in its place.

- "The pistol, Rino!" shouted Soria.

The weapon flew out of Ring's hand, only to disappear immediately.

It reappeared in Soria's hand. He pointed it at the American.

- "Very good, Rino, thank you for the little demonstration."

Rino became visible and handed Soria a small key.

- "Mr. Ring, here's your key," Soria said in a vibrant voice and threw it into the car. "You can take my son's radio. It's old and doesn't work very well. I'll keep your pistol. Go, now. Tell your government what you've seen. Tell them that, after this incident, we'll destroy Rino Grandi's discoveries before we'd hand them over to the current Security Council on United States territory. I had a hunch, and it turned out to be right. Yesterday, from Rio, you spoke on the phone in code with Monsieur Janvier in Geneva. The Security Council learned of the Grandis' whereabouts. The next day you show up. This means that at least one member of the Council committed a breach of trust. Who knows what other abuses they might commit..."

Ring didn't answer. In silence, he started the car and drove away slowly.

- "This clearly demonstrates one thing," Soria declared.

- "Yes!" his wife said affectionately. "That you're a big liar!"

- "...and that the current Council can't be trusted."

- "So, what do we do?" Rino asked, without waiting for an answer.

* * *

The small tourist plane was packed with provisions, weapons, tools, and warm clothing, enough for a multi-week expedition. There was also a toy boat, a gift from Franco to Rino.

Towards the east, the stars were starting to disappear, giving way to the first light of dawn.

- "You're lucky," Soria said, "that you don't need the engine. With that load, it would never be able to take off. The batteries alone weigh more than a hundred kilos."

- "Don't be late in joining us," Grandi insisted, shaking his hand. "Get out of here while you can."

- "I already got the tickets. For the whole family. Prudence above all else. Besides, I've decided to close down the factory. I'm changing professions. I plan to go into politics..."

The plane took off vertically. Gradually, as its speed increased, the ailerons and elevator began to bite into the air. The aircraft gained momentum in an almost horizontal direction and sped rapidly towards the northwest.

The needle on the speedometer reached two hundred kilometers per hour and remained there, pushing up to the maximum.

The altimeter was rising steadily. Less than twenty minutes later, it registered four thousand meters. Taking into account the approximate seven-degree incline, Grandi calculated the actual speed to be between one thousand and fifteen hundred kilometers per hour.

An intense cold was coming through the cracks in the door.

Rino gradually reversed gravity and the plane's position. They were flying upside down, but inertia kept them glued to their seats, in normal position.

The aircraft continued its very gradual descent until it was just a few hundred meters from the Atlantic waves, and then rose again.

Rino and his father took turns at the controls. Hilda was constantly handing out things: sandwiches, drinks, hot coffee.

- "Our stewardess..." Grandi said jokingly, but with a tone in his voice that was completely unfamiliar to Rino.

They were heading towards the sun, and it was rising with unusual speed. With equal urgency, it began to set.

The sun's rays were still almost vertical when Hilda said:

- "Do you want a lettuce salad? I don't have any, but there should be some down there!"

"Down there" were the Cape Verde Islands.

- "Sometimes I tell good jokes and you don't laugh that much," Rino complained.

Grandi simply smiled, looking a little confused...

- "It must be difficult to be the father of a genius," Hilda cheerfully answered, and ruffled Rino's hair with an affectionate gesture.

The "genius" didn't like having his hair ruffled. Almost all adults, to show affection for children, ruffle their hair. It's a bad habit, he thought.

But he felt happier than ever. The wonder of the silent flight he created, the excitement of searching the map for the route to new countries... everything was beautiful. Especially in the company of his father and Hilda. He wondered if it was wrong to feel affection for someone he had only known for a few days. No, it couldn't be wrong. It was a feeling, not an intellectual judgment. A feeling can last a short time or a long time, but while it lasts, it is what it is. On the contrary, he felt joy at being able to feel affection.

Once, when he was about eight or nine years old, a teacher tried to instill in him compassion for a rabid dog that, according to a school reader, was killed like a rabid dog. Rino stood his ground. He was glad it had been killed. Otherwise, it would have suffered more, it could have bitten someone, and it would have died later anyway.

- "But don't you feel any compassion?" the good señora insisted.

- "I can't, I'm thinking about the three good reasons I've already given you, and I'm glad they killed it."

The teacher, exasperated, declared that cold, logical reasoning was a mask to disguise insensitivity of heart, that is, wickedness. The inability to love and feel compassion. With that episode as a backdrop, the following years had almost convinced him that he truly was a strange being, incapable of affection, alone in a world full of love...

Now he knew... Reason wasn't the enemy of emotions. Contempt for logical reasoning was the weapon of those who couldn't practice it. Hilda was intelligent, beautiful, and cheerful. She showed him affection... It was logical to feel comfortable with her, to love her. He understood with a sense of triumph that his teacher was wrong. He was just as capable as anyone of feeling good and beautiful emotions, as long as they didn't conflict too much with reason.

- "Ruffle my hair again, if you want," he said shyly.

Hilda hugged him. To hide her shock, she offered him salad again, but this time with roasted lion. They were sailing between the Canary Islands and the African coast.

Grandi consulted the map. They didn't have proper instruments, no radar, and lacked the experience of professional pilots. If they followed the shortest route, it would be easy for them to become completely disoriented. Besides, how could they cross the Alps by gliding, without exceeding four thousand meters? They decided to do what blind people do: follow the walls.

They flew along the coast of Morocco, and an hour later they were crossing the Strait of Gibraltar. They learned from the Pyrenees that the Spanish coastline had become French. In the Gulf of Lion, the mouth of the Rhône River was easily recognizable. Turning sharply north, they followed the course of the river. With each glide, the landscape changed dramatically.

Hilda insisted on learning to fly. It wasn't difficult for her. Under her hands, the airplane flew over Lyon and turned to the right. The Rhône Valley narrowed. It was dangerous to maintain the same speed. With shorter maneuvers, they followed the curves of the river. The Alps rose before their eyes, becoming ever more imposing, and in the distance, Mont Blanc was already visible.

It was getting dark when the Rhône river ended. Lake Geneva was starting.

Rino took the controls and stabilized the plane at two thousand meters above the city. Now, even the whistling of the wind was inaudible.

In the absolute stillness, they enjoyed the spectacle of the last rays of light on the pink peaks. They ate dinner comfortably, waiting.

The green and red lights appeared unexpectedly. Following the promised signal, they landed silently.

* * *

The austere hall that in previous times housed the assemblies of the League of Nations seemed to rejoice at the unexpected activity that was once again buzzing within its walls. It was familiar with this breath of life that foreshadowed every step forward of humanity on its onward march. The happy times had returned for it, the times when the destinies of the world were forged within its confines.

The muffled murmur grew in intensity and then suddenly stopped.

A man, David Janvier, had stood up.

- "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen," he said in a calm but resonant voice. "Thank you for giving me your silence without the formality of a bell, and thank you for coming to my highly informal gathering.

"I haven't convened the United Nations Security Council here because, as a simple member of the UNESCO General Conference, I possess neither the voice nor the vote to do so. I've invited each of its members, and they are all in attendance. The eighteen members of the UNESCO Executive Board are also present.

"We are here to accept a gift... or reject it.

"Like all gifts of its kind, this one comes with certain conditions."

There was a murmur of disapproval. One of the delegates shouted:

- "We can't be forced to accept these conditions!... All of this is arbitrarily irregular!"

- "Let him speak," the English delegate intervened.

- "Almost all of our governments," continued Janvier, "have tried to seize what is now being offered to us, using even more irregular means than the procedures of this meeting.

"Víctor Grandi, thirteen years old and present here today, wishes to donate the three greatest forces imaginable to the United Nations: the control of gravity and the principle of invisibility. I will speak on the third one later.

"He hopes that the UN will use them, not as weapons, but as working tools to promote its objectives: lasting peace among nations; understanding and cooperation among peoples.

"One month ago, Víctor Grandi sought refuge in my home, like a hunted criminal. Ten nations were trying to steal his inventions. At least one member of the Security Council betrayed his trust. It's no wonder he harbors some suspicion... And yet, as his only reward for his incalculable contribution to peace and general well-being, he asks only that a few suggestions be accepted. He doesn't seek personal wealth or power, but rather the assurance that this organization possesses the competence and integrity necessary to administer the power of these new forces justly... And if it doesn't possess them, that it acquire them. To this end, he suggests..."

- "Enough!" shouted the Soviet delegate, rising to his feet. "It's absurd for a child to dictate terms to the world... He can't possibly have the necessary maturity to conceive projects concerning world politics... How do we know that the suggestions being discussed are truly this child's own original ideas? That he isn't under the influence of older people, of some group...?"

There was a general movement of heads. The eyes of everyone present converged on a single point in the room.

Rino stood up. His thin figure seemed even smaller in contrast to the vastness of the room. Grandi, Hilda Montiel, and Soria were sitting around him.

- "I would like to ask..." - the first words came out trembling, almost inaudible - "I would like to ask if the delegate believes in the greatness of communism and of Russia..."

The Council member nodded, without speaking. Not a sound could be heard.

- "...and I would like to ask," his voice was acquiring a new firmness, "whether these are his own ideas, original to the delegate. Or whether he is under the influence of Lenin, Trotsky, Stalin, and a thousand others..."

The applause was unanimous and thunderous. In the UNESCO section, the Soviet delegate and those from the satellite countries were also applauding.

- "I don't have any original ideas either," Rino continued. "I listen to and read all sorts of things. I like some of them, others I don't. I wouldn't want any nation to take advantage of controlling gravity to gain dominance over other nations. My father, whom you all know, a two-time representative of Argentina to UNESCO, suggested giving it to the UN. I liked that. I know that the UN doesn't always reach an agreement because few of its members manage to set aside their national interests the moment they enter the meeting room. I don't like that. I know that scientists, specialists in general, possess an idealism that allows them to forget the present and the local in favor of the permanent and the universal. For this reason, I would like to see a greater influence of UNESCO within the UN.

"With these new powers at its disposal, the UN can create a true international police force that will maintain peace in the world. But that alone would not guarantee the well-being and spiritual rapprochement of nations. It is a provisional measure. In the meantime, UNESCO, with unlimited resources and funds, will prepare for the future by introducing rational education throughout the world. It will prepare the rational man of tomorrow, the man without psychoses, without complexes. The man who is so in control of himself that he would rather humble himself in the pursuit of truth and justice than remain proudly entrenched in error."

The American member of the Security Council stood up, looking pale.

- "A month ago I committed a serious offense against the spirit of the UN. I'm certain that this organization, with the new infusion of strength and ideals it is about to receive, will achieve its objectives sooner and beyond all expectations. Now I have faith in the world of tomorrow, and I also want to contribute to its formation in the most effective way possible; by yielding my place to a man more worthy than myself. I hereby submit my resignation."

- "If I'm not mistaken," said Rino, "the resignations must be submitted to the General Assembly. If it were up to me, I can assure you they would be accepted, because the delegate has just illustrated, with a magnificent example, precisely the type of man that will be needed in the ranks of the international police force."

There was renewed applause in the UNESCO sector.

The Swedish delegate, visibly moved, made himself heard above the noise:

- "I propose we adjourn the meeting. I've heard enough and will inform my government of the general points. No sensible government can reject such an opportunity for future and general well-being. If the other members agree, the details of the new reorganization can be discussed at tomorrow's session."

The motion was carried.

* * *

So that he wouldn't get too bored, Rino was quietly talking with Hilda. This was the third session, and Janvier, appointed emergency president, was summarizing the decisions made the previous day, with the approval of seven of the eleven governments represented on the Security Council.

The previous morning, Rino gave a demonstration of his devices. The delegates were as delighted as children when Rino made them invisible. The members of the Council whose governments had withheld their support were visibly impressed when they saw a twenty-ton tank rise into the air, higher than the Palace of Nations, and remain suspended there for several minutes.

Rino was happy because in the second session they approved practically the entire program he had developed over a month with Janvier, his father, Soria, and Hilda.

Never did an assembly made so many decisions so quickly. Every time an objection was raised, Rino would take the floor and dismantle it with such simple arguments that there was no need to vote: the opponent themselves would withdraw the objection.

The fundamental reform was the formation of a commission of twenty-five psychiatrists and psychologists. From then on, no one could join the UN or its agencies without being declared "socially sane" by this commission. Grandi was tasked with its formation. Máximo Soria would help instill the new spirit within the Economic Council. Hilda was to be part of the new "School Psychology Commission" (SPC). Rino would remain in Geneva without official duties until he came of age, completing his studies under the supervision of his father and, naturally, the SPC...

Janvier continued speaking. Two stenographers were taking notes for the minutes and translations.

Rino, increasingly bored and restless, began to take inventory of the miscellaneous contents of his pockets. Among other things, there was a rubber band and some silver foil. From far away, faintly, he could hear Janvier's voice.

- "And finally," he said in a less monotonous voice, "I want to clarify why I initially spoke to you about three gifts. You're familiar with two of them. Invisibility, the secret of which will never be given to the public. The control of gravity, with its infinite applications, will gradually be placed in the service of humanity, in an ever-increasing manner, as people demonstrate through their greater sanity that they deserve greater freedoms.

"But the third gift, the greatest of all, is already ours. Rino Grandi's third gift is... Rino Grandi himself.

"He gives us, in his person, the example of what our grandchildren could be like, if we don't squander his gifts with our foolishness. And he will continue to give us new ideas and new examples. He will demonstrate to the world that there is no true goodness or true morality without a clear and soundly integrated goal. He will show us the way to educate and screen minds, until we obtain generations ever more like him. He will give us a better future, without wars, without prejudices. Without hardship, without soldiers, without retirement. He will lighten our work and prolong our lives. Thanks to him, we will no longer dream about the conquering of the solar system, and who knows, what lies beyond..." [Translator's note: "beyond", más allá in the original Spanish, presumably a play on the magazine]

Rino wasn't listening. He was conducting experiments with the rubber band. A projectile made of silver paper, purely by chance, hit the bald head of the Bulgarian delegate...