TWO WORLDS FOR ONE

                          By George O. Smith

                   (author of "Dynasty of the Lost")

            _Professor Milton had a famous plan for ending
              the strife between the Western and Eastern
             world--split the earth in two, literally, and
              let each side go its way, according to its
              own ideals. And the trouble was that Milton
                  could actually do what he planned!_

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
    Future combined with Science Fiction Stories July-August 1950.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Without preamble, the door swung open with a rush and a man ran into
the office. He was waving a paper in one hand, but this was not the
only evidence of his excitement; aside from the waved paper and his
obviously breathless appearance, the man spoke as soon as he was within
sight of the other man behind the desk.

"Professor Milton has resigned!"

The man behind the desk smiled resignedly. "Don't be too concerned,
Doctor Harris. Professor Milton has resigned before; he always comes
back."

Doctor Harris shook his head. His agitation did not diminish, despite
the calm composure of the man behind the desk. "Doctor Edwards," he
explained, "you don't really understand. He--"

"Look, Harris," replied Doctor Edwards, dropping the formality of
title, "is there anything we can do about it?"

"No," admitted Harris uncomfortably. "But you don't know what he'll
be doing next." He handed the paper to the quiet man behind the desk.
Doctor Edwards read:

    Dear Doctor Edwards:

    It has come to my attention that the world is in a high state of
    confusion. Under these trying circumstances, I feel moved to do
    something constructive about it.

    You will understand that any honest attempt to eliminate the state
    of strife that exists is most difficult under my present
    affiliations with this Institution. Ergo, I make formal resignation,
    knowing that a request for even a brief leave of absence would not
    be granted.

    Have no lasting fear. I may return once I have accomplished the
    reinstatement of peace and quiet in this troubled world.

                                                       Sincerely yours,
                                              Paul Monroe Milton, Ph.D.

Doctor Edwards shrugged. "This time it is the state of the world," he
said. His voice held a twinge of amusement.

Harris gasped. "You're not really worried!"

"Of course not. There is no single man on earth capable of untangling
the mess of the century."

"I wonder," objected Harris.

"Why?"

"Professor Milton is a literal-minded genius, and a bit of a screwball.
A more brilliant man has seldom existed on this earth--but he reminds
me somewhat of a powerful machine running wild; neither he nor a
machine has much judgment."

"But what are you worried about?"

"Remember the time he said 'Nothing is impossible!' and was instantly
told to try scratching a match on a bar of soap?"

Edwards laughed heartily. "You bet!" he chuckled. "Milton invented a
safety match that would light only when scratched on a soft, moist bar
of soap. Nowhere else."

"Uh-huh," drawled Harris. "And a bit of common sense added to that kind
of genius might have brought forth a real safety match that might be
worth millions to the institution. What I'm a bit worried about is just
what angle his rather literal mind will follow."

"No matter. We can stop him once we know--and Professor Milton is not
an unknown figure; we'll wait and watch carefully."

Doctor Harris nodded slowly. He was sensible enough to know that the
Professor was missing completely and no matter how dangerous it might
be, nothing could be done until Professor Milton did something to smoke
himself out into the open. He left Doctor Edwards' office determined to
keep a close eye on newspaper and a sharp ear on the radio commentators.

       *       *       *       *       *

The General Assembly of the United Nations came to order after
prolonged applause. The Chairman nodded genially and spoke into the
microphones on his desk; his words were translated for those who did
not understand his tongue, but no man present was unaware of the
importance of the figure beside him. Pictures have no tongue and
Professor Milton was genius.

"Gentlemen," said the Chairman, "this may seem irregular. However,
Professor Milton comes before us to explain a plan he has evolved
for the continued peace and satisfaction of the world--a world made
desperate by continued disagreement. We need no pre-vues of his plan
because we know that Milton seldom presents any solution that is not
workable. I relinquish the rostrum to Professor Paul Monroe Milton!"

More thunderous applause.

"Gentlemen of the United Nations," said Milton into the microphones,
"it is not my purpose to decide who is right in these everlasting
disagreements. Without a doubt each side has its own personal reasons
for believing as it does, otherwise there would be no disagreement.

"However it stands that the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics wants
to rule a certain part of the world in their own manner--which is
anathema to the United States of America. Similarly, the United States
of America prefers to see the world operating under a manner favorable
to its principles of Democracy.

"Because of this no agreement has been reached. An impasse has obtained
for years.

"My plan is simple. Let us divide the world into two equal parts and
each go our way, ruling each according to our own ideals. I offer you
two worlds for one!"

Professor Milton seated himself.

The General Assembly was quiet for a moment; then all broke into a
roar of scornful laughter. Minutes later the Chairman succeeded in
restoring order. He said: "I fear that Professor Milton does not quite
understand. My dear Professor Milton, we agree in the whole. The main
argument is not that we should do this; the question at hand is how to
get along after the world is divided."

"Simple," said the professor. "It is--"

He was interrupted by more roars of laughter.

"Fools! Idiots!" he stormed. The power of his voice stilled the
laughter. "You think it will not work?"

More laughter, and an undercurrent of remarks like: "Choose up sides
like a ball game"; "Make it cricket, old chap." "Match you for the
Dardanelles, Commissar,"; "Swap you Java for--"

"Imbeciles," yelled Professor Milton angrily. "Must I demonstrate?"

"Just how do you propose to effect this division?" asked the Chairman
sarcastically.

"By application of gravitic field theory," snapped Professor Milton.

The Russian Delegate arose, was recognized, and said: "Professor
Milton's suggestion sounds uncomfortable. I fully believe that no
one will find fault with Russia if I exercise my power of veto on
this suggestion." He seated himself among wild cheers, laughter, and
applause.

In the excitement, Professor Milton left.

       *       *       *       *       *

Charles Ingalls of the F.B.I. smiled tolerantly. "I see no reason to be
upset," he said.

Doctors Edwards and Harris shook their heads in unison. "You don't
understand," explained Edwards.--"Recall his words?"

"Of course."

"And you apply no importance to them?"

"His theory sounds reasonable. Let Russia run her section--"

Harris snorted excitedly; he slapped the newspaper with the back of his
hand. "Divide the world," he said, his voice rising in pitch. "Have you
any idea of what that would mean?"

"Why--it still sounds sensible."

"Professor Milton is literal-minded to the extreme. Professor Milton is
sheer genius--That is why he is employed in our institution."

"Then," snapped Ingalls, "why don't you keep him there?"

"We'd like to. The trouble is that Milton _is_ genius and as such quite
important to certain factions. His ability to solve problems hitherto
unsolvable make him valuable. One of the problems he has encountered
and solved is the way to leave our institution at any time. That is why
we treat him as an employee instead of an inmate."

"So about this dividing business?"

Harris shook his head. "When Milton said 'divide the world into two
parts,' he meant that literally. He is quite capable of devising some
means of dividing the world astronomically."

Ingalls laughed. "Impossible!" he chuckled.

"Several years ago Professor Milton was in need of some dye for some
obscure purpose. One of his assistants made a wisecrack to the effect
that if Professor Milton was so smart, why couldn't he filter the dye
out of ink and use that. Milton devised a filter capable of separating
the dye from ink, and used it. So far the filter is useless for
anything else but it will certainly remove the color from a bottle of
ink, leaving the stuff in two useless quantities."

"Interesting, but--"

"Astronomically, the idea of separating the world into two hemispheres
is disastrous."

       *       *       *       *       *

"Why?" asked Ingalls. "I know little of astrology."

Edwards glared at him. "Not astrology; astronomy. Astrophysics
or celestial mechanics. Your half-apple of a world is unstable
astronomically. Gravity would set in unfavorably upon the instant of
division and separation and the half-apple would collapse into two
smaller spheres, gradually assuming true spherical shapes in thousands
of years as the rocks cold-flowed. But for the moment, the shock and
the immediate crack-up would leave no city standing; huge crevices
would be formed, and no living thing to remain. Understand, I'm a
doctor of medicine and not an astrophysicist. My description may err
but I can guarantee that the results would be disastrous. I suggest
that if you don't believe me, call one of the big brains at Mount
Palomar; they'll tell you the details."

[Illustration: The shock of splitting the earth would leave no city
standing; huge crevices would be formed, and no living thing would
remain.]

"It sounds impossible. But if the man is a maniac--"

"Not a maniac," objected Doctor Harris. "Just completely single-track,
literal-minded. Genius without judgement. Cares nothing for any problem
that has not caught his fancy but will pursue anything he likes
to the bitter end. Trying to keep up with what he fancies is like
predicting which way a bar of bath soap will squirt when you step on it
inadvertently. He's--"

"Enough! Convinced or not, I'll aid you to re-collect the Professor.
How shall we go about it?"

"You're the man-hunter," said Edwards with a smile. "How do you go
about it?"

"Just what kind of thing will this mad genius use to divide the
earth?" asked Ingalls.

"Lord knows," grunted Harris. "Why?"

"I was suggesting that we keep watch over the sale of certain
materials."

"Make it a watch over _all_ materials," snorted Edwards. "Field theory
is an abstract subject and he'll try to reduce it to practise, I'd
guess. Mechanical division is impossible, I'd state flatly. Gravity
holds the earth together; slicing it would do no good for it would
cold-pressure weld together once the knife passed. But with some sort
of field to divide and direct the forces of gravity--Well, your guess
is as good as mine."

"Fine," said Ingalls sourly. "So we have the job of locating one man in
the earth who might be capable of ruining it, but we don't know how."
He snorted. "Could one man do it?"

"We're here because we think so; he's done some mighty impossible
things so far. Few of them are known for security reasons. Actually,
though it is not admitted, Professor Milton is the man whose
calculations made the original uranium pile practical. He took theory
and reduced theoretical equations to practical calculations before
they tried it out at the University of Chicago. It was some of his
calculations that--stolen, of course--put the rocket experts on the
track of developing the V-2. So--?"

"Um. I begin to see."

       *       *       *       *       *

Professor Moreiko of the Moscow Academy of Science shook his head
heavily. "Ridiculous," he said in a good grade of English into the
telephone. "Ridiculous, my comrade. No earthquake fault-lines exist
there."

Ingalls, on the other end of the telephone, said: "We know that; but
that is where we anticipate trouble."

"What manner of trouble. You do not expect--?"

"I have called every seismographic station on earth," explained
Ingalls. "Or I should say that I am calling every station. Professor
Milton--"

"Ah, the great Professor Milton! He is--?"

"Loose again," grunted Ingalls.

"With what purpose?"

"Professor Milton has decided to divide the earth so that Russia can
run her half while we--"

"Divide the earth!" exploded Professor Moreiko loudly, nearly damaging
the telephone earpiece and Ingalls' ear at the same time. "You
Americans!... He is yours! I will help, but you must stop him!"

"Okay," replied Ingalls. "Just keep an eye on the district I mentioned.
According to the big globe here, that is the best place to divide the
world so that each of us can have an equitable half--"

"And a precious lot it will do us," snorted Moreiko. "What a completely
outrageous idea!"

"Well, I'm told he is the guy to do it."

Moreiko spluttered for a moment. Then his voice became sober. "Had any
other man on earth made that statement I would have scoffed," he said.
"But Professor Milton--American, I am alarmed!"

The connection was broken as the Russian hung up in an excited mood.

       *       *       *       *       *

Days passed. Days in which men poured over shipping statements,
pondering their relative importance and seeking some clue of strange
shipments to a strange location. A huge airliner was stolen; the
seismographs of the world were still save for their usual reportings;
for three days all radio was killed by energetic cracklings of static
which appeared to be completely non-directional in source. The
Department of Terrestrial Magnetism in Washington reported shiftings
of the lines of equal deviation from true north and a change in the
vertical component as well but their measurements were insufficiently
precise to pin the source of trouble down to more than several thousand
square miles.

Twenty days after the Professor had resigned from the Institution, all
the world's seismographs reported a serious temblor. Directionally, it
was tracked down, and the calculations indicated a fairly straight line
of fault.

The fault was a vertical Great Circle of the earth dividing the earth
into two hemispheres.

Somewhere along this Great Circle must be Professor Milton, reasoned
the many agencies seeking him. They beat the Circle from pole to
pole and though finding one man in the wilderness of earth might be
impossible, every available man was seeking him actively. Locating
Milton was inevitable--providing Milton did not accomplish his division
of the earth first.

Ten days later the earth shook again, and people looked at one another
in fear.

"We must find him!" stormed Ingalls.

Edwards and Harris nodded unhappily. Edwards added: "He's down there,
somewhere."

Ingalls looked out of the plane window at a million square miles of
glaring ice. "A mote in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado," he grunted.

Professor Moreiko shook his head. "All Americans are crazy," he stated.

"No," grunted Edwards. "Only some of them." Moreiko laughed bitterly.
Days upon end of flying over the ice was tiring to them all.

It was, however, only a matter of time before the elusive Professor
Milton was located. And hours later, Moreiko gave a shout as he pointed
towards a small building squat upon the ice with a tall steel tower
beside it. They landed beside the building, and climbed out of the
plane worriedly. Whether the professor was armed bothered them quite a
bit.

       *       *       *       *       *

Professor Milton was not armed, nor was he resentful at being found.
"Greetings," he boomed genially. "You are the first."

"Why did you hide?" demanded Edwards.

"Hide? I was not hiding. I merely came to the proper place for the
division of the earth. I'd have mentioned it, but apparently no one
was interested; I was forced to go on my own, so to speak."

"You realize the importance of this?"

"Of course," smiled Professor Milton whimsically. "Once this division
takes place, there will be no cause for argument."

"Nor anybody to argue," pointed Edwards.

"Small matter. Russia wants--"

"Might I speak for Russia?" asked Professor Moreiko.

"Ah, Moreiko! So glad to see you. Of course you may speak."

"Professor Milton, I tell you that neither Russia nor the United States
is pleased with this proposition of yours."

"Why not?" asked Milton childishly. "It seems equitable."

"It is equitable, but truly not practical."

"No?" boomed Milton, reaching for a large lever protruding from a
panel. "I shall show you. I--"

"Please consider first," objected Moreiko.

"But why? Your ideology is at cross purposes with ours; you go your way
and we'll go ours."

"Dead!" snapped Moreiko.

"Better dead," replied Milton, "than constant strife."

"You realize that you will kill every man on earth?"

"Not at all.... Just a few. The others will find life difficult for a
bit but most will survive."

"But--"

Milton stood to his full height which was imposing. "I care little
for that," he boomed. "I am laughed at; I am made a fool of; I am
ridiculed. I am told that my theories are impossible. I shall show them
all, though they die in the attempt!"

"And you yourself."

"And if I do--if we do--it will prove my theories sound. Russia and the
United States may each have their half, separated by millions of miles
of space where neither can harm the other."

"It will not work," said Moreiko. Edwards and Harris groaned. Telling
Professor Milton that something will not work was the best way to urge
him on.

Professor Milton sat down with a superiorly tolerant smile. "I shall
give you five minutes," he told the Russian. "If you prove this
impossible, I will desist with but a formal apology from those Doubting
Thomases."

"Clip him," snapped Ingalls, pointing a revolver at the professor.

Professor Milton smiled. "Field theory," he told Ingalls. "Pull the
trigger, and see what happens!"

Ingalls grunted, pointed the pistol at the wall and fired. The
explosion was but a piffling one, more of a slow burn than a sharp
bang. The bullet oozed from the end of the barrel and fell to the floor
with a thud.

Ingalls pulled a blackjack from his pocket and started forward, lifting
it. Then he stopped. Moving the sap was difficult, like trying to swing
a sledge under water.

"All metals encounter resistive fields here," said Professor Milton.

"At him bare handed, then," snapped Ingalls.

"Wait," said Moreiko. "The world need not lose a brilliant brain. Once
I have convinced him of the fallacy, he will forget this entirely."

"Fallacy?" snapped Milton angrily. "You think I cannot divide the
world?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Moreiko smiled. "No, my esteemed colleague, I know you can divide
the world; that all the earth grants. The earth does not want itself
divided."

"Even to eliminate trouble?"

"If I prove to you that the trouble will not be eliminated, then will
you forget this venture?"

"Yes, but it is the only way."

Moreiko nodded.

"I presume that you have set up a plane of cleavage through the earth.
One, say, that will divide the earth and also screen the gravitic
attraction of each half for the other so that centrifugal force will
cause the two halves to separate?"

"Yes."

"Then, once separated by several millions of miles, you believe that
no arguments can ensue?"

"Yes."

"Because you think that neither of us can get at the other to do harm?"

"Yes," replied Milton.

"But Professor," smiled the Russian, "may I point out that in this
equipment; in this generator of some hitherto unknown field of force,
you have developed the means of interplanetary travel?"

"Perhaps?"

"Now, then," said Moreiko, "if you must demonstrate your power, divide
the moon. But remember that separating the earth into two parts
generates _interplanetary_ strife instead of mere global argument. Have
I answered your problem?"

       *       *       *       *       *

Things are less troublesome now. A bit of impending disaster will draw
people together; it is often a sorry fact that once the disaster is
averted, those people will again revert to their former animosity. But
all that the people of the earth have to do to remember is to look
upwards.

There are two moons in the sky, moons once hemispherical but whose
edges daily crumble into crude spheres.

A nice reminder--and also another problem for Professor Milton. He has
not yet returned to his Institution, for he is living in a glass dome
on one of the moons, trying to work out the problem of bringing them
together again.

He claims it to be but a matter of time.


                                THE END