“He’s a singular genius, all right, but not in the way he appears,” said Jennings with a laugh. “To answer your question, I suspect there are certain traditional ways of finding out things that are wholly wrong in their approach. I believe Dr. Nagle has abandoned these and has devised for himself new methods to find basic knowledge.”
“And you would say, I suppose, that this Committee should recommend amendments to the Patent Laws permitting Dr. Nagle to obtain patents on Laws of Nature?”
"Indeed I would!” said Jennings.
They came in a stream after that. There were the bitter ones and the bewildered ones, and the senators listened in astonishment as the young researchers talked of the idiocy of legal definitions in scientific matters. Of invention and noninvention. Of combinations, defined by the legal mind. Of novelty and prior art. And the wonderful slip-of-the-wrist definitions of statutory and nonstatutory items. Of the mysterious “flash of genius” so essential to invention.
Some of the younger, less disciplined men poured out the unrestrained bitterness of long hours of research and development judged fruitless from the standpoint of patentability and resultant compensation.
But it wasn’t getting out, Mart observed. The reporters were taking down the words, but the bitterness wasn’t getting out to the minds of those who could vindicate him against the accusations that Baird and his kind had made. It was far easier for the press to quote a Dykstra and his comical, melodramatic interpretation than the sincere frustration of the researchers who were doing all they could to back Mart.
Thursday noon he said to Berk. “We’ve got to get it out where every one can buy it. Even if we win here in this little Committee and finally in Congress, we won’t have touched the problem of minds like Baird’s. That’s the real enemy.”
“What are you going to do?” said Berk.
“I’m going to offer to be interviewed on his program.”
Berk whistled. “Brother, that’s the equivalent of putting your head into the lion’s mouth clear down to your ankles. You know how they can murder you on those so-called interviews. You’re up there like a mounted insect with a pin stuck right through your middle. You don’t say a word. If you do, they shout you down with accusations of every sort. Baird’ll take the hide off you!”
“I don’t think so,” said Mart. “It’s pretty tough to tear off.”
Baird was more than delighted with the suggestion. Mart had the impression that the commentator could scarcely refrain from baring his teeth. Momentarily, he almost wished he had accepted Berk’s warning.
“I would like it to take place as soon as possible,” he said. “Before the completion of the hearings.”
“Tonight,” said Baird. “I’ll scrap my whole program for this evening and give you a chance to state your case to the whole country.”
Mart nodded. “I’ll meet you at the studio.”
He didn’t require any preparation. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. It was only a matter of keeping Baird from mangling his whole story. It was obvious that he was going to try.
He sat Mart at a bad angle, to begin with, so that his face was away from the cameras, and only Baird could make direct appeal to those who watched and listened. As soon as they were on the air, Mart shifted his chair so that he faced the camera squarely. Disconcerted, Baird was forced to shift or appear to be sitting behind Mart. He shifted.
He opened with a stream of talk that gave the audience a none too subtle view of the difficulties that television commentators endure in the course of their public service work. The impression was left that Dr. Martin Nagle was among the most difficult crosses that any commentator had to bear.
He said, “Dr. Nagle, will you tell our audience just what your concept of a satisfactory patent system is?”
“A patent system,” said Mart, “is intended to be a form of remuneration to a discoverer in return for the use of his work. In the case of —”
“Well, now, just a moment, Dr. Nagle. The reward offered by a patent is in the nature of a monopoly, and that is the crux of our present problem. You cannot say that it would be justifiable to grant a person a monopoly on just any kind of a discovery because he happened to be the first to discover it.”
“I did not use the word monopoly,” said Mart. “I said remuneration. In the case of —”
“Well, now, Dr. Nagle. You say remuneration. All right, we’ll use the word remuneration. But it is obvious at once that if you wish to place the magnitude of the remuneration in direct proportion to the magnitude of the discovery, there rapidly appears a point at which it is ridiculous to allow a single individual to control or realize the rewards of certain discoveries which will be of the utmost magnitude. Do you not agree that this is so, Dr. Nagle?”
Mart shrugged and smiled and said nothing. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, hoping he had not misestimated the time at his disposal.
