"George Griffith - A Corner in Lightning" - читать интересную книгу автора (Griffith George)

I'm sure it's wrong, too. What should we think if somebody managed to bottle up the atmosphere and
made us pay for every breath we drew? Besides, there must surely be a good deal of risk in deliberately
disturbing the economy of Nature in such a way. How are you going to get to the Pole, too, to put up
your works?"

"Well," he said, stopping for a moment in his walk and looking thoughtfully at the lighted end of his
cigarette, "in the first place, as to the geography, I must remind you that the Magnetic Pole is not the
North Pole. It is in Boothia Land, British North America, some 1500 miles south of the North Pole.
Then, as to the risk, of course one can't do big things like this without taking a certain amount of it; but
still, I think it will be mostly other people that will have to take it in this case.

"Their risk, you see, will come in when they find that cables and telephones and telegraphs won't work,
and that no amount of steam-engine grinding can get up a respectable amount of electric light--when in
short, all the electric plant of the world loses its value, and can't be set going without buying supplies from
the Magnetic Polar Storage Company, or, in other words, from your humble servant and the few friends
that he will be graciously pleased to let in on the ground floor. But that is a risk that they can easily
overcome by just paying for it. Besides, there's no reason why we shouldn't improve the quality of the
commodity. 'Our Extra Special Refined Lightning!' 'Our Triple Concentrated Essence of Electric Fluid'
and 'Competent Thunder-Storms delivered at the Shortest Notice' would look very nice in
advertisements, wouldn't they?"

"Don't you think that's rather a frivolous way of talking about a scheme which might end in ruining one of
the most important industries in the world?" she said, laughing in spite of herself at the idea of delivering
thunder-storms like pounds of butter or skeins of Berlin wool.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't argue that point with you because, you see, you will keep looking at me while
you talk, and that isn't fair. Anyhow I'm equally sure that it would be quite impossible to run any business
and make money out of it on the lines of the Sermon on the Mount. But, come, here's a convenient
digression for both of us. That's the Professor, I expect."

"Shall I go?" she said, taking her feet off the fender.

"Certainly not, unless you wish to," he said; "or unless you think the scientific details are going to bore
you."

"Oh, no, they won't do that," she said. "The Professor has such a perfectly charming way of putting them;
and, besides, I want to know all that I can about it."

"Professor Kenyon, sir."

"Ah, good evening, Professor! So sorry you could not come to dinner." They both said this almost
simultaneously as the man of science walked in.

"My wife and I were just discussing the ethics of this storage scheme when you came in," he went on.
"Have you anything fresh to tell us about the practical aspects of it? I'm afraid she doesn't altogether
approve of it, but as she is very anxious to hear all about it, I thought you wouldn't mind her making one
of the audience."

"On the contrary, I shall be delighted," replied the Professor; "the more so as it will give me a
sympathiser."