Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from _A Martian Odyssey and Others_ published in 1949. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. 

THE POINT OF VIEW

"I am too modest!" snapped the great Haskel van Manderpootz, pacingirritably about the limited area of his private laboratory, glaring atme the while. "That is the trouble. I undervalue my own achievements, and thereby permit petty imitators like Corveille to influence thecommittee and win the Morell prize. "

"But, " I said soothingly, "you've won the Morell physics award half adozen times, professor. They can't very well give it to you every year. "

"Why not, since it is plain that I deserve it?" bristled the professor. "Understand, Dixon, that I do not regret my modesty, even though itpermits conceited fools like Corveille, who have infinitely less reasonthan I for conceit, to win awards that mean nothing save prizes forsuccessful bragging. Bah! To grant an award for research along suchobvious lines that I neglected to mention them, thinking that even aMorell judge would appreciate their obviousness! Research on thepsychon, eh! Who discovered the psychon? Who but van Manderpootz?"

"Wasn't that what you got last year's award for?" I asked consolingly. "And after all, isn't this modesty, this lack of jealousy on your part, a symbol of greatness of character?"

"True--true!" said the great van Manderpootz, mollified. "Had such anaffront been committed against a lesser man than myself, he woulddoubtless have entered a bitter complaint against the judges. But not I. Anyway, I know from experience that it wouldn't do any good. Andbesides, despite his greatness, van Manderpootz is as modest andshrinking as a violet. " At this point he paused, and his broad red facetried to look violet-like. 

I suppressed a smile. I knew the eccentric genius of old, from the dayswhen I had been Dixon Wells, undergraduate student of engineering, andhad taken a course in Newer Physics (that is, in Relativity) under thefamous professor. For some unguessable reason, he had taken a fancy tome, and as a result, I had been involved in several of his experimentssince graduation. There was the affair of the subjunctivisor, forinstance, and also that of the idealizator; in the first of theseepisodes I had suffered the indignity of falling in love with a girl twoweeks after she was apparently dead, and in the second, the equal orgreater indignity of falling in love with a girl who didn't exist, neverhad existed, and never would exist--in other words, with an ideal. Perhaps I'm a little susceptible to feminine charms, or rather, perhapsI used to be, for since the disaster of the idealizator, I have grimlyrelegated such follies to the past, much to the disgust of various'vision entertainers, singers, dancers, and the like. 

So of late I had been spending my days very seriously, tryingwholeheartedly to get to the office on time just once, so that I couldrefer to it next time my father accused me of never getting anywhere ontime. I hadn't succeeded yet, but fortunately the N. J. WellsCorporation was wealthy enough to survive even without the full-timeservices of Dixon Wells, or should I say even _with_ them? Anyway, I'msure my father preferred to have me late in the morning after an eveningwith van Manderpootz than after one with Tips Alva or Whimsy White, orone of the numerous others of the ladies of the 'vision screen. Even inthe twenty-first century, he retained a lot of old-fashioned ideas. 

Van Manderpootz had ceased to remember that he was as modest andshrinking as a violet. "It has just occurred to me, " he announcedimpressively, "that years have character much as humans have. This year, 2015, will be remembered in history as a very stupid year, in which theMorell prize was given to a nincompoop. Last year, on the other hand, was a very intelligent year, a jewel in the crown of civilization. Notonly was the Morell prize given to van Manderpootz, but I announced mydiscrete field theory in that year, and the University unveiled Gogli'sstatue of me as well. " He sighed. "Yes, a very intelligent year! What doyou think?"

"It depends on how you look at it, " I responded glumly. "I didn't enjoyit so much, what with Joanna Caldwell and Denise d'Agrion, and yourinfernal experiments. It's all in the point of view. "

The professor snorted. "Infernal experiments, eh! Point of view! Ofcourse it's all in the point of view. Even Einstein's simple littlesynthesis was enough to prove that. If the whole world could adopt anintelligent and admirable point of view--that of van Manderpootz, forinstance--all troubles would be over. If it were possible--" He paused, and an expression of amazed wonder spread over his ruddy face. 

"What's the matter?" I asked. 

"Matter? I am astonished! The astounding depths of genius awe me. I amoverwhelmed with admiration at the incalculable mysteries of a greatmind. "

"I don't get the drift. "

"Dixon, " he said impressively, "you have been privileged to look upon anexample of the workings of a genius. More than that, you have plantedthe seed from which perhaps shall grow the towering tree of thought. Incredible as it seems, you, Dixon Wells, have given van Manderpootz anidea! It is thus that genius seizes upon the small, the unimportant, thenegligible, and turns it to its own grand purposes. I stand awe-struck!"

"But what--?"

"Wait, " said van Manderpootz, still in rapt admiration of the majesty ofhis own mind. "When the tree bears fruit, you shall see it. Until then, be satisfied that you have played a part in its planting. "

 * * * * *

It was perhaps a month before I saw van Manderpootz again, but onebright spring evening his broad, rubicund face looked out of thephone-screen at me. 

"It's ready, " he announced impressively. 

"What is?"

The professor looked pained at the thought that I could have forgotten. "The tree has borne fruit, " he explained. "If you wish to drop over tomy quarters, we'll proceed to the laboratory and try it out. I do notset a time, so that it will be utterly impossible for you to be late. "

I ignored that last dig, but had a time been set, I would doubtlesshave been even later than usual, for it was with some misgivings that Iinduced myself to go at all. I still remembered the unpleasantness of mylast two experiences with the inventions of van Manderpootz. However, atlast we were seated in the small laboratory, while out in the larger onethe professor's technical assistant, Carter, puttered over some device, and in the far corner his secretary, the plain and unattractive MissFitch, transcribed lecture notes, for van Manderpootz abhorred thethought that his golden utterances might be lost to posterity. On thetable between the professor and myself lay a curious device, somethingthat looked like a cross between a pair of nose-glasses and a miner'slamp. 

"There it is, " said van Manderpootz proudly. "There lies myattitudinizor, which may well become an epoch-making device. "

"How? What does it do?"

"I will explain. The germ of the idea traces back to that remark ofyours about everything depending on the point of view. A very obviousstatement, of course, but genius seizes on the obvious and draws from itthe obscure. Thus the thoughts of even the simplest mind can suggest tothe man of genius his sublime conceptions, as is evident from the factthat I got this idea from you. "

"What idea?"

"Be patient. There is much you must understand first. You must realizejust how true is the statement that everything depends on the point ofview. Einstein proved that motion, space, and time depend on theparticular point of view of the observer, or as he expressed it, on thescale of reference used. I go farther than that, infinitely farther. Ipropound the theory that the observer _is_ the point of view. I go evenbeyond that, I maintain that the world itself is merely the point ofview!"

"Huh?"

"Look here, " proceeded van Manderpootz. "It is obvious that the world Isee is entirely different from the one in which you live. It is equallyobvious that a strictly religious man occupies a different world thanthat of a materialist. The fortunate man lives in a happy world; theunfortunate man sees a world of misery. One man is happy with little, another is miserable with much. Each sees the world from his own pointof view, which is the same as saying that each lives in his own world. Therefore there are as many worlds as there are points of view. "

"But, " I objected, "that theory is to disregard reality. Out of all thedifferent points of view, there must be one that is right, and all therest are wrong. "

"One would think so, " agreed the professor. "One would think thatbetween the point of view of you, for instance, as contrasted with thatof, say van Manderpootz, there would be small doubt as to which wascorrect. However, early in the twentieth century, Heisenberg enunciatedhis Principle of Uncertainty, which proved beyond argument that acompletely accurate scientific picture of the world is quite impossible, that the law of cause and effect is merely a phase of the law of chance, that no infallible predictions can ever be made, and that what scienceused to call natural laws are really only descriptions of the way inwhich the human mind perceives nature. In other words, the character ofthe world depends entirely on the mind observing it, or, to return to myearlier statement, the point of view. "

"But no one can ever really understand another person's point of view, "I said. "It isn't fair to undermine the whole basis of science becauseyou can't be sure that the color we both call red wouldn't look green toyou if you could see it through my eyes. "

"Ah!" said van Manderpootz triumphantly. "So we come now to myattitudinizor. Suppose that it were possible for me to see through youreyes, or you through mine. Do you see what a boon such an ability wouldbe to humanity? Not only from the standpoint of science, but alsobecause it would obviate all troubles due to misunderstandings. And evenmore. " Shaking his finger, the professor recited oracularly, "'Oh, wadsome pow'r the giftie gie us to see oursel's as ithers see us. ' VanManderpootz is that power, Dixon. Through my attitudinizor, one may atlast adopt the viewpoint of another. The poet's plaint of more than twocenturies ago is answered at last. "

"How the devil do you see through somebody else's eyes?"

"Very simply. You will recall the idealizator. Now it is obvious thatwhen I peered over your shoulder and perceived in the mirror yourconception of the ideal woman, I was, to a certain extent, adopting yourpoint of view. In that case the psychons given off by your mind wereconverted into quanta of visible light, which could be seen. In thecase of my attitudinizor, the process is exactly reversed. One flashesthe beam of this light on the subject whose point of view is desired;the visible light is reflected back with a certain accompaniment ofpsychons, which are here intensified to a degree which will permit themto be, so to speak, appreciated?"

"Psychons?"

"Have you already forgotten my discovery of the unit particle ofthought? Must I explain again how the cosmons, chronons, spations, psychons, and all other particles are interchangeable? And that, " hecontinued abstractedly, "leads to certain interesting speculations. Suppose I were to convert, say, a ton of material protons and electronsinto spations--that is, convert matter into space. I calculate that aton of matter will produce approximately a cubic mile of space. Now thequestion is, where would we put it, since all the space we have isalready occupied by space? Or if I manufactured an hour or two of time?It is obvious that we have no time to fit in an extra couple of hours, since all our time is already accounted for. Doubtless it will take acertain amount of thought for even van Manderpootz to solve theseproblems, but at the moment I am curious to watch the workings of theattitudinizor. Suppose you put it on, Dixon. "

"I? Haven't _you_ tried it out yet?"

"Of course not. In the first place, what has van Manderpootz to gain bystudying the viewpoints of other people? The object of the device is topermit people to study nobler viewpoints than their own. And in thesecond place, I have asked myself whether it is fair to the world forvan Manderpootz to be the first to try out a new and possiblyuntrustworthy device, and I reply, 'No!'"

"But _I_ should try it out, eh? Well, everytime I try out any of yourinventions I find myself in some kind of trouble. I'd be a fool to goaround looking for more difficulty, wouldn't I?"

"I assure you that _my_ viewpoint will be much less apt to get you intotrouble than your own, " said van Manderpootz with dignity. "There willbe no question of your becoming involved in some impossible love affairas long as you stick to that. "

Nevertheless, despite the assurance of the great scientist, I was morethan a little reluctant to don the device. Yet I was curious, as well;it seemed a fascinating prospect to be able to look at the world throughother eyes, as fascinating as visiting a new world--which it was, according to the professor. So after a few moments of hesitation, Ipicked up the instrument, slipped it over my head so that the eyeglasseswere in the proper position, and looked inquiringly at van Manderpootz. 

"You must turn it on, " he said, reaching over and clicking a switch onthe frame. "Now flash the light to my face. That's the way; just centerthe circle of light on my face. And now what do you see?"

I didn't answer; what I saw was, for the moment, quite indescribable. Iwas completely dazed and bewildered, and it was only when someinvoluntary movement of my head at last flashed the light from theprofessor's face to the table top that a measure of sanity returned, which proves at least that tables do not possess any point of view. 

"O-o-o-h!" I gasped. 

Van Manderpootz beamed. "Of course you are overwhelmed. One could hardlyexpect to adopt the view of van Manderpootz without some difficulties ofadjustment. A second time will be easier. "

I reached up and switched off the light. "A second time will not only beeasier, but also impossible, " I said crossly. "I'm not going toexperience another dizzy spell like that for anybody. "

"But of course you will, Dixon. I am certain that the dizziness will benegligible on the second trial. Naturally the unexpected heightsaffected you, much as if you were to come without warning to the brinkof a colossal precipice. But this time you will be prepared, and theeffect will be much less. "

Well, it was. After a few moments I was able to give my full attentionto the phenomena of the attitudinizor, and queer phenomena they were, too. I scarcely know how to describe the sensation of looking at theworld through the filter of another's mind. It is almost anindescribable experience, but so, in the ultimate analysis, is any otherexperience. 

What I saw first was a kaleidoscopic array of colors and shapes, but theamazing, astounding, inconceivable thing about the scene was that therewas no single color I could recognize! The eyes of van Manderpootz, orperhaps his brain, interpreted color in a fashion utterly alien to theway in which my own functioned, and the resultant spectrum was sobizarre that there is simply no way of describing any single tint inwords. To say, as I did to the professor, that his conception of redlooked to me like a shade between purple and green conveys absolutely nomeaning, and the only way a third person could appreciate the meaningwould be to examine my point of view through an attitudinizor _while_ Iwas examining that of van Manderpootz. Thus he could apprehend myconception of van Manderpootz's reaction to the color red. 

And shapes! It took me several minutes to identify the weird, angular, twisted, distorted appearance in the center of the room as the plainlaboratory table. The room itself, aside from its queer form, lookedsmaller, perhaps because van Manderpootz is somewhat larger than I. 

But by far the strangest part of his point of view had nothing to dowith the outlook upon the physical world, but with the more fundamentalelements--with his _attitudes_. Most of his thoughts, on that firstoccasion, were beyond me, because I had not yet learned to interpret thepersonal symbolism in which he thought. But I did understand hisattitudes. There was Carter, for instance, toiling away out in the largelaboratory; I saw at once what a plodding, unintelligent drudge heseemed to van Manderpootz. And there was Miss Fitch; I confess that shehad always seemed unattractive to me, but my impression of her was Venusherself beside that of the professor! She hardly seemed human to him andI am sure that he never thought of her as a woman, but merely as a pieceof convenient but unimportant laboratory equipment. 

At this point I caught a glimpse of myself through the eyes of vanManderpootz. Ouch! Perhaps I'm not a genius, but I'm dead certain thatI'm not the grinning ape I appeared to be in his eyes. And perhaps I'mnot exactly the handsomest man in the world either, but if I thought Ilooked like that--! And then, to cap the climax, I apprehended vanManderpootz's conception of himself!

"That's enough!" I yelled. "I won't stay around here just to beinsulted. I'm through!"

I tore the attitudinizor from my head and tossed it to the table, feeling suddenly a little foolish at the sight of the grin on the faceof the professor. 

"That is hardly the spirit which has led science to its greatachievements, Dixon, " he observed amiably. "Suppose you describe thenature of the insults, and if possible, something about the workings ofthe attitudinizor as well. After all, that is what you were supposed tobe observing. "

I flushed, grumbled a little, and complied. Van Manderpootz listenedwith great interest to my description of the difference in our physicalworlds, especially the variations in our perceptions of form and color. 

"What a field for an artist!" he ejaculated at last. "Unfortunately, itis a field that must remain forever untapped, because even though anartist examined a thousand viewpoints and learned innumerable newcolors, his pigments would continue to impress his audience with thesame old colors each of them had always known. " He sighed thoughtfully, and then proceeded. "However, the device is apparently quite safe touse. I shall therefore try it briefly, bringing to the investigation acalm, scientific mind which refuses to be troubled by the trifles thatseem to bother you. "

He donned the attitudinizor, and I must confess that he stood the shockof the first trial somewhat better than I did. After a surprised "Oof!"he settled down to a complacent analysis of my point of view, while Isat somewhat self-consciously under his calm appraisal. Calm, that is, for about three minutes. 

Suddenly he leaped to his feet, tearing the device from a face whosenormal ruddiness had deepened to a choleric angry color. "Get out!" heroared. "So _that's_ the way van Manderpootz looks to you! Moron! Idiot!Imbecile! Get out!"

 * * * * *

It was a week or ten days later that I happened to be passing theUniversity on my way from somewhere to somewhere else, and I fell towondering whether the professor had yet forgiven me. There was a lightin the window of his laboratory over in the Physics Building, so Idropped in, making my way past the desk where Carter labored, and thecorner where Miss Fitch sat in dull primness at her endless task oftranscribing lecture notes. 

Van Manderpootz greeted me cordially enough, but with a curiousassumption of melancholy in his manner. "Ah, Dixon, " he began, "I amglad to see you. Since our last meeting, I have learned much of thestupidity of the world, and it appears to me now that you are actuallyone of the more intelligent contemporary minds. "

This from van Manderpootz! "Why--thank you, " I said. 

"It is true. For some days I have sat at the window overlooking thestreet there, and have observed the viewpoints of the passers-by. Wouldyou believe"--his voice lowered--"would you believe that only seven andfour-tenths percent are even aware of the _existence_ of vanManderpootz? And doubtless many of the few that are, come from among thestudents in the neighborhood. I knew that the average level ofintelligence was low, but it had not occurred to me that it was as lowas that. "

"After all, " I said consolingly, "you must remember that theachievements of van Manderpootz are such as to attract the attention ofthe intelligent few rather than of the many. "

"A very silly paradox!" he snapped. "On the basis of that theory, sincethe higher one goes in the scale of intelligence, the fewer individualsone finds, the greatest achievement of all is one that _nobody_ hasheard of. By that test you would be greater than van Manderpootz, anobvious _reductio ad absurdum_. "

He glared his reproof that I should even have thought of the point, thensomething in the outer laboratory caught his ever-observant eye. 

"Carter!" he roared. "Is that a synobasical interphasometer in thepositronic flow? Fool! What sort of measurements do you expect to makewhen your measuring instrument itself is part of the experiment? Take itout and start over!"

He rushed away toward the unfortunate technician. I settled idly back inmy chair and stared about the small laboratory, whose walls had seen somany marvels. The latest, the attitudinizor, lay carelessly on thetable, dropped there by the professor after his analysis of the massviewpoint of the pedestrians in the street below. 

I picked up the device and fell to examining its construction. Of coursethis was utterly beyond me, for no ordinary engineer can hope to graspthe intricacies of a van Manderpootz concept. So, after a puzzled butadmiring survey of its infinitely delicate wires and grids and lenses, Imade the obvious move. I put it on. 

My first thought was the street, but since the evening was well along, the walk below the window was deserted. Back in my chair again, I satmusing idly when a faint sound that was not the rumbling of theprofessor's voice attracted my attention. I identified it shortly as thebuzzing of a heavy fly, butting its head stupidly against the pane ofglass that separated the small laboratory from the large room beyond. Iwondered casually what the viewpoint of a fly was like, and ended byflashing the light on the creature. 

For some moments I saw nothing other than I had been seeing right alongfrom my own personal point of view, because, as van Manderpootzexplained later, the psychons from the miserable brain of a fly are toofew to produce any but the vaguest of impressions. But gradually Ibecame aware of a picture, a queer and indescribable scene. 

Flies are color-blind. That was my first impression, for the world was adull panorama of greys and whites and blacks. Flies are extremelynearsighted; when I had finally identified the scene as the interior ofthe familiar room, I discovered that it seemed enormous to the insect, whose vision did not extend more than six feet, though it did take inalmost a complete sphere, so that the creature could see practically inall directions at once. But perhaps the most astonishing thing, though Idid not think of it until later, was that the compound eye of theinsect, did not convey to it the impression of a vast number of separatepictures, such as the eye produces when a microphotograph is takenthrough it. The fly sees one picture just as we do; in the same way asour brain rights the upside-down image cast on our retina, the fly'sbrain reduces the compound image to one. And beyond these impressionswere a wild hodge-podge of smell-sensations, and a strange desire toburst through the invisible glass barrier into the brighter lightbeyond. But I had no time to analyze these sensations, for suddenlythere was a flash of something infinitely clearer than the dimcerebrations of a fly. 

For half a minute or longer I was unable to guess what that momentaryflash had been. I knew that I had seen something incredibly lovely, thatI had tapped a viewpoint that looked upon something whose very presencecaused ecstasy, but whose viewpoint it was, or what that flicker ofbeauty had been, were questions beyond my ability to answer. 

I slipped off the attitudinizor and sat staring perplexedly at thebuzzing fly on the pane of glass. Out in the other room van Manderpootzcontinued his harangue to the repentant Carter, and off in a cornerinvisible from my position I could hear the rustle of papers as MissFitch transcribed endless notes. I puzzled vainly over the problem ofwhat had happened, and then the solution dawned on me. 

The fly must have buzzed between me and one of the occupants of theouter laboratory. I had been following its flight with the faintlyvisible beam of the attitudinizor's light, and that beam must haveflickered momentarily on the head of one of the three beyond the glass. But which? Van Manderpootz himself? It must have been either theprofessor or Carter, since the secretary was quite beyond range of thelight. 

It seemed improbable that the cold and brilliant mind of van Manderpootzcould be the agency of the sort of emotional ecstasy I had sensed. Itmust therefore, have been the head of the mild and inoffensive littleCarter that the beam had tapped. With a feeling of curiosity I slippedthe device back on my own head and sent the beam sweeping dimly into thelarger room. 

It did not at the time occur to me that such a procedure was quite asdiscreditable as eavesdropping, or even more dishonorable, if you comeright down to it, because it meant the theft of far more personalinformation than one could ever convey by the spoken word. But all Iconsidered at the moment was my own curiosity; I wanted to learn whatsort of viewpoint could produce that strange, instantaneous flash ofbeauty. If the proceeding was unethical--well, Heaven knows I waspunished for it. 

So I turned the attitudinizor on Carter. At the moment, he was listeningrespectfully to van Manderpootz, and I sensed clearly his respect forthe great man, a respect that had in it a distinct element of fear. Icould hear Carter's impression of the booming voice of the professor, sounding somewhat like the modulated thunder of a god, which was not farfrom the little man's actual opinion of his master. I perceived Carter'sopinion of himself, and his self-picture was an even more mouselikeportrayal than my own impression of him. When, for an instant, heglanced my way, I sensed his impression of me, and while I'm sure thatDixon Wells is not the imbecile he appears to van Manderpootz, I'mequally sure that he's not the debonair man of the world he seemed toCarter. All in all, Carter's point of view seemed that of a timid, inoffensive, retiring, servile little man, and I wondered all the morewhat could have caused that vanished flash of beauty in a mind like his. 

There was no trace of it now. His attention was completely taken up bythe voice of van Manderpootz, who had passed from a personal appraisalof Carter's stupidity to a general lecture on the fallacies of theunified field theory as presented by his rivals Corveille and Shrimski. Carter was listening with an almost worshipful regard, and I could feelhis surges of indignation against the villains who dared to disagreewith the authority of van Manderpootz. 

I sat there intent on the strange double vision of the attitudinizor, which was in some respects like a Horsten psychomat--that is, one isable to see both through his own eyes and through the eyes of hissubject. Thus I could see van Manderpootz and Carter quite clearly, butat the same time I could see or sense what Carter saw and sensed. Thus Iperceived suddenly through my own eyes that the professor had ceasedtalking to Carter, and had turned at the approach of somebody as yetinvisible to me, while at the same time, through Carter's eyes, I sawthat vision of ecstasy which had flashed for a moment in his mind. Isaw--description is utterly impossible, but I saw a woman who, exceptpossibly for the woman of the idealizator screen, was the most beautifulcreature I had ever seen!

I say description is impossible. That is the literal truth, for hercoloring, her expression, her figure, as seen through Carter's eyes, were completely unlike anything expressible by words. I was fascinated, I could do nothing but watch, and I felt a wild surge of jealousy as Icaught the adoration in the attitude of the humble Carter. She wasglorious, magnificent, indescribable. It was with an effort that Iuntangled myself from the web of fascination enough to catch Carter'sthought of her name. "Lisa, " he was thinking. "Lisa. "

What she said to van Manderpootz was in tones too low for me to hear, and apparently too low for Carter's ears as well, else I should haveheard her words through the attitudinizor. But both of us heard vanManderpootz's bellow in answer. 

"I don't care how the dictionary pronounces the word!" he roared. "Theway van Manderpootz pronounces a word is right!"

The glorious Lisa turned silently and vanished. For a few moments Iwatched her through Carter's eyes, but as she neared the laboratorydoor, he turned his attention again to van Manderpootz, and she was lostto my view. 

And as I saw the professor close his dissertation and approach me, Islipped the attitudinizor from my head and forced myself to a measure ofcalm. 

"Who is she?" I demanded. "I've got to meet her!"

He looked blankly at me. "Who's who?"

"Lisa! Who's Lisa?"

There was not a flicker in the cool blue eyes of van Manderpootz. "Idon't know any Lisa, " he said indifferently. 

"But you were just talking to her! Right out there!"

Van Manderpootz stared curiously at me; then little by little a shrewdsuspicion seemed to dawn in his broad, intelligent features. "Hah!" hesaid. "Have you, by any chance, been using the attitudinizor?"

I nodded, chill apprehension gripping me. 

"And is it also true that you chose to investigate the viewpoint ofCarter out there?" At my nod, he stepped to the door that joined the tworooms, and closed it. When he faced me again, it was with featuresworking into lines of amusement that suddenly found utterance in boominglaughter. "Haw!" he roared. "Do you know who beautiful Lisa is? She'sFitch!"

"Fitch? You're mad! She's glorious, and Fitch is plain and scrawny andugly. Do you think I'm a fool?"

"You ask an embarrassing question, " chuckled the professor. "Listen tome, Dixon. The woman you saw was my secretary, Miss Fitch, seen throughthe eyes of Carter. Don't you understand? The idiot Carter's in lovewith her!"

 * * * * *

I suppose I walked the upper levels half the night, oblivious alike ofthe narrow strip of stars that showed between the towering walls oftwenty-first century New York, and the intermittent roar of trafficfrom the freight levels. Certainly this was the worst predicament of allthose into which the fiendish contraptions of the great van Manderpootzhad thrust me. 

In love with a point of view! In love with a woman who had no existenceapart from the beglamoured eyes of Carter. It wasn't Lisa Fitch I loved;indeed, I rather hated her angular ugliness. What I had fallen in lovewith was the way she looked to Carter, for there is nothing in the worldquite as beautiful as a lover's conception of his sweetheart. 

This predicament was far worse than my former ones. When I had fallen inlove with a girl already dead, I could console myself with the thoughtof what might have been. When I had fallen in love with my ownideal--well, at least she was _mine_, even if I couldn't have her. Butto fall in love with another man's conception! The only way thatconception could even continue to exist was for Carter to remain in lovewith Lisa Fitch, which rather effectually left me outside the picturealtogether. She was absolutely unattainable to me, for Heaven knows Ididn't want the real Lisa Fitch--"real" meaning, of course, the one whowas real to me. I suppose in the end Carter's Lisa Fitch was as real asthe skinny scarecrow my eyes saw. 

She was unattainable--or was she? Suddenly an echo of a long-forgottenpsychology course recurred to me. Attitudes are habits. Viewpoints areattitudes. Therefore viewpoints are habits. And habits can be learned!

There was the solution! All I had to do was to learn, or to acquire bypractice, the viewpoint of Carter. What I had to do was literally to putmyself in his place, to look at things in his way, to see his viewpoint. For once I learned to do that, I could see in Lisa Fitch the very thingshe saw, and the vision would become reality to me as well as to him. 

I planned carefully. I did not care to face the sarcasm of the great vanManderpootz; therefore I would work in secret. I would visit hislaboratory at such times as he had classes or lectures, and I would usethe attitudinizor to study the viewpoint of Carter, and to, as it were, practice that viewpoint. Thus I would have the means at hand of testingmy progress, for all I had to do was glance at Miss Fitch without theattitudinizor. As soon as I began to perceive in her what Carter saw, Iwould know that success was imminent. 

Those next two weeks were a strange interval of time. I haunted thelaboratory of van Manderpootz at odd hours, having learned from theUniversity office what periods he devoted to his courses. When one day Ifound the attitudinizor missing, I prevailed on Carter to show me whereit was kept, and he, influenced doubtless by my friendship for the manhe practically worshipped, indicated the place without question. Butlater I suspect that he began to doubt his wisdom in this, for I know hethought it very strange for me to sit for long periods staring at him; Icaught all sorts of puzzled questions in his mind, though as I havesaid, these were hard for me to decipher until I began to learn Carter'spersonal system of symbolism by which he thought. But at least one manwas pleased--my father, who took my absences from the office and neglectof business as signs of good health and spirits, and congratulated mewarmly on the improvement. 

But the experiment was beginning to work, I found myself sympathizingwith Carter's viewpoint, and little by little the mad world in which helived was becoming as logical as my own. I learned to recognize colorsthrough his eyes; I learned to understand form and shape; mostfundamental of all, I learned his values, his attitudes, his tastes. Andthese last were a little inconvenient at times, for on the severaloccasions when I supplemented my daily calls with visits to vanManderpootz in the evening, I found some difficulty in separating my ownrespectful regard for the great man from Carter's unreasoning worship, with the result that I was on the verge of blurting out the whole thingto him several times. And perhaps it was a guilty conscience, but I keptthinking that the shrewd blue eyes of the professor rested on me with acuriously suspicious expression all evening. 

The thing was approaching its culmination. Now and then, when I lookedat the angular ugliness of Miss Fitch, I began to catch glimpses of thesame miraculous beauty that Carter found in her--glimpses only, butharbingers of success. Each day I arrived at the laboratory withincreasing eagerness, for each day brought me nearer to the achievementI sought. That is, my eagerness increased until one day I arrived tofind neither Carter nor Miss Fitch present, but van Manderpootz, whoshould have been delivering a lecture on indeterminism, very much inevidence. 

"Uh--hello, " I said weakly. 

"Umph!" he responded, glaring at me. "So Carter was right, I see. Dixon, the abysmal stupidity of the human race continually astounds me with newevidence of its astronomical depths, but I believe this escapade ofyours plumbs the uttermost regions of imbecility. "

"M-my escapade?"

"Do you think you can escape the piercing eye of van Manderpootz? Assoon as Carter told me you had been here in my absence, my mind leapednimbly to the truth. But Carter's information was not even necessary, for half an eye was enough to detect the change in your attitude onthese last few evening visits. So you've been trying to adopt Carter'sviewpoint, eh? No doubt with the idea of ultimately depriving him of thecharming Miss Fitch!"

"W-why--"

"Listen to me, Dixon. We will disregard the ethics of the thing and lookat it from a purely rational viewpoint, if a rational viewpoint ispossible to anybody but van Manderpootz. Don't you realize that in orderto attain Carter's attitude toward Fitch, you would have to adopt his_entire_ viewpoint? Not, " he added tersely, "that I think his point ofview is greatly inferior to yours, but I happen to prefer the viewpointof a donkey to that of a mouse. Your particular brand of stupidity ismore agreeable to me than Carter's timid, weak, and subservient nature, and some day you will thank me for this. Was his impression of Fitchworth the sacrifice of your own personality?"

"I--I don't know. "

"Well, whether it was or not, van Manderpootz has decided the matter inthe wisest way. For it's too late now, Dixon. I have given them both amonth's leave and sent them away--on a honeymoon. They left thismorning. "