chains of amino acids, aren’t they? Well, modify their structure. Make ’em harmless. Bacteria too. And synthesize antibiotics.”

“I wish I could. However, Mr.—”

“Just call me Jim.”

“Yes. However, all this is old stuff.”

“Grab your pencil,” Kelvin said. “From now on it’ll be solid, with riffs. The method of synthesizing and testing is as follows—”

He explained, very thoroughly and clearly. He had to use the rapport case only twice. And when he had finished, the man with the red moustache laid down his pencil and stared.

“This is incredible,” he said. “If it works—”

“I want health, fame and fortune,” Kelvin said stubbornly. “It’ll work.”

“Yes, but—my good man—”

However, Kelvin insisted. Luckily for himself, the mental testing of the red-moustached man had included briefing for honesty and opportunity, and it ended with the chemist agreeing to sign partnership papers with Kelvin. The commercial possibilities of the process were unbounded. Dupont or GM would be glad to buy it.

“I want lots of money. A fortune.”

“You’ll make a million dollars,” the red-moustached man said patiently.

“Then I want a receipt. Have to have this in black and white. Unless you want to give me my million now.”

Frowning, the chemist shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’ll have to run tests, open negotiations—but don’t worry about that. Your discovery is certainly worth a million. You’ll be famous, too.”

“And healthy?”

“There won’t be any more disease, after a while,” the chemist said quietly. “That’s the real miracle.”

“Write it down,” Kelvin clamored.

“All right. We can have partnership papers drawn up tomorrow. This will do temporarily. Understand, the actual credit belongs to you.”

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