Chapter 1

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_Title:_ The Gravity Professor
_Date of first publication:_ 1921
_Author:_ Raymond King Cummings (as Ray Cummings) (1887-1957)
_Date first posted:_ Jan. 16, 2021
_Date last updated:_ Jan. 16, 2021
Faded Page eBook #20210131

This eBook was produced by: Alex White & the online Distributed
Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net

_The Gravity_
_Professor_

_by_
Ray Cummings

First published in Argosy All-Story Weekly
May 7, 1921.

[Illustration]

I.

Tubby shoved his plate away from him with dignity and threw his napkin
on the table.

“That ain’t so,” he declared, glaring at his friend aggressively. “And
furthermore, and in addition, I say—”

“I ain’t interested in what you say; I’m telling you what _he_ said. ‘If
you’re heavier than water you sink—if you’re lighter you float.’ That’s
what he said.”

“You’re right, Jake,” agreed the second man. “That’s what he said.”

“Well, it ain’t so. And furthermore, I can prove it.”

They sat in the corner of a small, side-street restaurant off Longacre
Square. Tubby raised his voice above the whine of the little jazz
orchestra and the shuffling feet of the dancers.

“’Tain’t so,” he repeated. “And I can prove it—if you’re interested.”
His tone was scornful and infinitely sarcastic.

“He says he can prove it, Jake,” elucidated the second man.

The first man sighed wearily. “Go ahead and prove it,” he said.

“What you said,” Tubby began, “was that if you’re heavier than water you
sink, and if you’re lighter, you float. Ain’t I right?”

“I _didn’t_ say it. I said _he_ said it. That’s different.”

“You’re right, Jake. _You_ didn’t say it,” concurred the second man.

Tubby gulped. “Well, anyway—you said _he_ said it. And ’tain’t so.” He
paused impressively. “Can you swim?” he added suddenly. He shoved his
chubby little forefinger directly under the first man’s nose.

“Huh?” said the first man, surprised.

“I said ‘can you swim?’ Can you, or can’t you? That’s all I want to
know.”

“No,” the first man admitted. “I can’t swim.”

“Then if you got thrown in the river you’d sink, wouldn’t you?”

The first man considered. “I ain’t never been thrown in no river,” he
declared finally.

“But if you did? Ain’t I got a right to ask you a hypothetical question?
If you did—” He paused again.

“I guess maybe I’d sink,” the first man admitted.

Tubby smiled with gratification. “Yes, maybe you’d sink. And how much do
you weigh?”

The first man’s huge Adam’s apple bobbed up and down his stringy neck
under this cross-examination.

“I—I—hundred and five,” he stammered. “Maybe more. I ain’t been
weighed lately.”

“_I_ weigh hund’ed and ninety,” said Tubby triumphantly. “Naked—hund’ed
and ninety. So I weigh more’n you, don’t I?”

“He’s right, Jake. He weighs more’n you,” said the second man.

The first man, recovering his poise, conceded this with magnanimity.
“But that ain’t got nothing to do with this here argument. I said—”

“If I weigh more’n you,” Tubby pursued relentlessly, “and _you_
sink—why is it I float? _That’s_ what I’m askin’. That’s a fair
question, ain’t it? There’s somethin’ wrong somewhere. Ain’t I right?”

“He’s right, Jake,” said the second man.

The first man rose to his feet. “I’m only tellin’ yer what _he_ said—I
ain’t sayin’ what _I_ think.” He looked at his watch. “Come on. We’ll be
late for this here lecture if we don’t hurry.”

“I ain’t goin’ to no lecture,” declared Tubby. “I’m sleepy. I’m goin’
home.”

“We got free tickets,” urged the first man. “Come on.”

“Come on,” said the second man. “We got free tickets.”

And Tubby reluctantly went.

II.

The little hall was crowded when they took their seats. A huge rectangle
of white sheet hung before them.

“It’s a steopican lecture,” explained the first man. “They’re goin’ to
shine pictures on that sheet. It’s a scientific lecture.”

“I ain’t interested in no lecture,” Tubby declared again. “I wish I was
home.”

The lights dimmed suddenly. A hush came over the chattering little
audience. A man appeared on the platform and began haranguing them in a
dull, hopeless monotone.

Tubby wished again, fervently in his heart, that he were home in bed.
The hard little wooden seat into which he had wedged himself was too
small. He slid lower on his spine, but his knees bumped the back of the
chair in front. An aisle ran beside him; he extended one of his legs
into it.

A man, coming down the aisle from behind him, touched his elbow. Tubby
looked up, startled.

“I want to see you,” said the man softly. “Come outside for a minute.”

Tubby saw he was a little wisp of a man—all skin and bones—with an
emaciated face wrinkled by great age.

“Come outside a minute,” he repeated. “I got something to see you
about.”

Tubby hesitated. A little air would do him good. Jake would never miss
him; he’d be back before the lecture was over. He slid into the aisle
and followed the stranger to the door.

In the lobby outside Tubby stopped.

“Where we goin’?” he asked. “What you got to see me about? I ain’t
interested in nothin’.”

The little man smiled, exposing three decrepit yellow teeth behind his
shriveled, bloodless lips.

“You’ll be interested in this,” he said. His voice was a thin, cracked
treble—like a little child who was sick, Tubby thought.

The man’s long frock coat and plug hat were exceedingly shabby. Tubby
felt very big and prosperous by contrast.

“Right,” he said briskly.

“Not here,” said the little man. “My laboratory’s at the corner. We’ll
go there.”

“Sure,” said Tubby. “We’ll go there. You got somethin’ to show me. Ain’t
I right?”