Ye of Little Faith Part 1

Ye of Little Faith.

by Roger Phillips Graham.

[Sidenote: _It matters not whether you believe or disbelieve. Reality is not always based on logic; nor, particularly, are the laws of the universe...._]

The disappearance of John Henderson was most spectacular. It occurred while he was at the blackboard working an example in multiple integration for his ten o'clock cla.s.s. The incompleted problem remained on the board for three days while the police worked on the case. It, a wrist watch and a sterling silver monogrammed belt buckle, lying on the floor near where he had stood, were all the physical evidence they had to go on.

There was plenty of eye-witness evidence. The cla.s.s consisted of forty-three pupils. They all had their eyes on him in varying degrees of attention when it happened. Their accounts of what happened all agreed in important details. Even as to what he had been saying.

In the reports that went into the police files he was quoted with a high degree of certainty as having said, "Integration always brings into the picture a constant which was not present. This constant of integration is, in a sense, a variable. But a different type of variable than the mathematical unknown. It might be said to be a logical variable--"

The students were in unanimous agreement and, at this point, Dr.

Henderson came to an abrupt stop in his lecture. Suddenly, an expression of surprise appeared on his face. It was succeeded by an exclamation of triumph. And he simply vanished from the spot.

He didn't fade away, rise, drop into the floor, or take any time vanishing. He simply stopped being there.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _He just wasn't there any more._]

The police searched his room in the nearby Vanderbilt Arms Hotel. They turned a portrait of the missing math professor to the newspapers to publish. Arbright University offered a reward of one hundred dollars to anyone who had seen him.

The police also found a savings pa.s.s book in his room. It had a balance of three thousand eight hundred and forty dollars, which had been built up to that figure by steady monthly deposits over a period of years. It also had a withdrawal of three hundred and twenty dollars two days before the disappearance. They were sure they were on the path to a motive. This avenue of exploration came to an abrupt end with the discovery that he had traded in his last year's car on a new one, and that sum had been necessary to complete the deal.

After the third day the blackboard had been erased and the cla.s.sroom released for its regular cla.s.ses. Police enthusiasm dropped to the norm of what they called legwork. Finding out who the missing man's acquaintances and friends were, calling on them and talking to them in the hopes of picking up something they could go on.

They pa.s.sed Martin Grant by because they had heard from him in their initial work. In fact, he had been a little too present for their tastes.

After ten days they dropped the case from the active blotter. The University, seeing that there was little likelihood of having to sh.e.l.l out the reward money, increased it to five hundred dollars.

But Martin Grant continued to ponder over a conversation he himself had had with John Henderson during a dinner six weeks to the day before his old friend had vanished. He remembered his own words...

"... and so you see, John, by following this trail, I've arrived at a theory that has to do with the basic nature of the universe--of all reality. Yet things don't behave as they would if my theory were operating."

John Henderson frowned into s.p.a.ce, disturbed. Visibly disturbed. Martin watched him with a twinkle in his eyes.

"You must have gone off the track on it somewhere, Martin," John said suddenly, as though trying more to convince himself than his listener.

Martin shook his head with slow positiveness. "You followed every step.

We spent four hours on it." He took pity on his friend. "Don't let it bother you. I regard it as just an intellectual curiosity. I've included it in my next book on that basis."

A new voice broke in. "What is it, Dad? One of your ten-thousand-word s.h.a.ggy dog jokes?" This from Fred Grant, 16, student in the senior grade at the Hortense Bartholemew High School, and an only child of Martin Grant.

"A little more respect toward your father," Martin said with much sternness.

"Yes, Father."

"It was my _theory_."

John Henderson said, "But, Martin, I don't know what to think now. Of course there must be some fallacy that I've missed. The way things stand though, I--" He chuckled uncomfortably. "I begin to doubt myself. I can't quite cla.s.sify it as an intellectual curiosity."

"What else can you do with it?" Martin said. "I know your trouble. It's a common one. You have a tendency to believe things or disbelieve them.

Now you've been presented with something your intellect demands that you believe, while your experience shouts, 'lie'."

"Is Fred able to understand it?" John asked, smiling at the youngster with fond and unconscious condescension.

"Not yet," Fred smiled. "I'm still in high school."

"And if you don't want to flunk out you'd better be off to bed at once,"

Martin told him.

"Yes, Father. Good night, Dr. Henderson."

Fred's departure left a vacuum in the conversation that took a minute to fill. John Henderson frowned himself back to where he had been before the boy had arrived. When he got there he frowned even more, because it was a state of mental confusion that seemed to have no way of being resolved.

"Maybe we can get at it this way," he said. "Let's postulate that your theory is the only logical basis on which reality can rest. B, quite obviously reality does not rest on this basis. We could make C, therefore, that reality doesn't rest on a logical basis. But that doesn't seem to satisfy me. Maybe C could be--no--" He glanced at his watch, lifted his eyebrows and stood up. "I really didn't know it was so late. I'll have to be going, Martin. An eight o'clock lecture in the morning."

Martin made a wry face. "You've awakened my own conscience. I have an hour or two of work yet before bedtime."

The two men went to the front door. John said, "Thank your wife again for me. Wonderful dinner. You're lucky, Martin, to have such a good cook."

That had been six weeks before John Henderson vanished. Martin Grant mentioned this visit to Horace Smith, one of the teachers in his department, and got himself and his wife invited for dinner on the following Friday. Dinner over, the two professors retired to the library.

Two and a half hours later Horace had a.s.similated and grasped every detail of the theory. He then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, fingertips to temples, trying to find some flaw. Finally he shook his head. "It's no use," he said. "Your theory is logically inescapable.

But--" He frowned. "Where does that place us? Probably where some schools of thought have always suspected we would wind up eventually.

With the realization that the basic laws of the universe can't be reached by logic or even by experiment based upon logic."

"I wouldn't say that," Martin objected. "My theory is an intellectual curiosity, that's all. That's the way I present it in my latest book. By the way, it's coming out soon. Signed the contract a month ago." He pulled his thoughts back to the conversation. "After all, one must hold onto the pragmatic approach to reality. Here is a theory that logic says must be the only possible way a universe can be constructed and operate. It's beautiful and logically complete, but not applicable. No pragmatic value."

"Congratulations on the book. But, d.a.m.n it," Horace said, "it attacks my most basic faith. Logic. Reason."

"Faith?" Martin echoed, amused. "Yes, perhaps you're right. That's a word that's foreign to my thinking. Belief is so unnecessary."

"You don't mean that."

"But I do."

Horace pondered. "I can prove otherwise. You believe--as an example--that your wife is faithful to you." It was a statement rather than a question.

"As a matter of fact--I don't. I act upon the greater probability that she is. I don't hire detectives to follow her. Nor do I throw her into situations to test her faithfulness. I admit the possibility that she's unfaithful to me. If evidence came that she was, I might confront her with the evidence. Where does belief become necessary?"

"Do you believe your son will become a success in life?" Horace asked.