Silas Timberman by Howard Fast Page B

of natural forces and natural causes, and I know enough about the atom and the atom bomb to understand that the only defense against this bomb is the non-use of it—in other words, the preparation of a situation, nationally and internationally, which will enable us to remove this curse and horror from the eyes of mankind forever. Such organization as you propose can only excite an already sore situation and cannot lead to peace. Therefore, I consider such action detrimental to the best interests of my country, and basically unpatriotic.
    â€œVery sincerely yours,
    â€œIsaac Amsterdam.”
    Silas finished reading and laid the letter down on the table. His pipe had gone out, and he was grateful for the diversion of lighting it. Cabot looked at him non-committally, and now the president waited.
    â€œI’m rather sorry you let me read it,” Silas said finally.
    â€œWhy?”
    Silas shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious, sir?”
    â€œYou mean you find it embarrassing, and feel for my own embarrassment?”
    â€œProfessor Amsterdam is a friend of mine.”
    â€œWhich is why I credited you with the virtue of patience. Yet I was wondering whether you saw the letter before it was dispatched.”
    Silas felt a cold chill run down his spine, and his hand shook a little as he placed his pipe on the table. He fought for control, found it, and managed to reply very quietly,
    â€œNo, I did not, Dr. Cabot. You may be assured that if I had, I would have done my utmost to persuade him not to send it.”
    â€œWhy? Because it is insulting and intolerable?”
    â€œBecause I believe it to be ill-advised,” Silas said, just as quietly.
    â€œAgain I must ask—because you cannot accept its content or its tone?”
    â€œI am responsible for neither the content nor the tone. It is not my letter, and Professor Amsterdam is perfectly capable of doing his own thinking and of accepting the responsibility as well.”
    â€œI have some doubts of that,” Cabot said, his voice and manner unruffled and unheated, “but in essence, you are right. Any more than he can be responsible for your actions, Professor Timberman. Yet you will admit to a curious parallelism. You also chose to have no part of civil defense.”
    â€œFor reasons of my own. I see nothing wrong with my choice, nor was I advised that I did not have the right to make it.”
    â€œThen you could hardly blame me for surmising that you see nothing wrong with any of Professor Amsterdam’s arguments.”
    â€œYou have the right to surmise anything you choose. I also have the right to reject his arguments and to take no responsibility for them.”
    Cabot leaned back, smiled, and puffed on his cigar. “So there we are—and both of us becoming a little childish in our arguments. Believe me, Professor Timberman, I have no desire to play the inquisitor, nor do I relish the role. It’s a nasty business at best. But here we are in a web of uneasy and unpleasant circumstances, and I must deal with them, whether I desire to or not. Also, believe me, I am not being spiteful over the foolish letter of a foolish old man. It is quite true that I’ve never received such a letter before, but I think I have enough experience and enough stability to consider it amusing rather than dangerous. I have no intentions of directing any reprisals against Professor Amsterdam—although I think some sober reflection should indicate that an apology is called for. However, I am disturbed by the suggestion that he is not speaking merely for himself. There are various kinds of unusual letters, and this one arrived yesterday from the Justice Department in Washington. Let me read it to you.”
    Again he opened the manila folder, removed another letter consisting of three sheets, and spread it out before him.
    â€œIt advises me,” he continued, “that a petition has been circulated throughout the United States,