Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,49

Duval had operated on the cells. The knife forced the interface forward into a point, then broke through.

"It's like cutting thin rubber," said Michaels, panting a bit. He sliced downward and an opening appeared briefly but closed almost at once, healing itself.

Grant tried the same thing, forcing his hand through the opening before it closed. He winced a bit as the water molecules closed in.

"It's got a grip on it, you know."

Duval said somberly, "If you calculated the size of those water molecules on our scale you'd be astonished. You could make them out with a hand lens. In fact . . ."

Michaels said, "In fact, you're sorry you didn't bring a hand lens. I've got news for you, Duval, you wouldn't see much. You would magnify the wave properties as well as the particle properties of atoms and subatomic particles. Anything you see, even by the reflection of miniaturized light, would be too hazy to do you much good."

Cora said, "Is that why nothing really looks sharp? I thought it was just because we were seeing things through blood plasma."

"The plasma is a factor, certainly. But in addition, the general graininess of the universe becomes much larger as we become much smaller. It's like looking really closely at an old-fashioned newspaper photograph. You see the dots more clearly and it becomes hazy."

Grant was paying little attention to the conversation. His arm was through the interface and with it he was tearing away to make room for his other arm and his head.

For a moment the fluid closed about his neck and he felt strangled.

"Hold my legs, will you?" he called.

Duval said, "I've got them."

Half his body was through now and he could look through the crevice Duval had made through the walls.

"All right. Pull me down again." He came down and the interface closed behind him with a popping sound.

He said, "Now let's see what we can do about the snorkel. Heave-ho."

It was quite useless. The blunt end of the snorkel made not a dent on the tightly-knit skin of water molecules on the air bubble. Knives cut that skin to shreds so that parts of the snorkel got through but the instant the interface was left- to itself, surface tension would reassert itself and the snorkel would pop out.

Michaels was panting with effort. "I don't think we're going to make it."

"We've got to," said Grant. "Look, I'm getting in; all the way in. When you push the snorkel through, I'll grab whatever part makes it and pull. Between pushing and pulling ..."

"You can't go in there, Grant," said Duval. "You'll be sucked in and lost."

Michaels said, "We can use a lifeline. Right here, Grant." He indicated the neatly nested line at Grant's left hip. -Duval, take this back to the ship and attach it and we'll get Grant through."

Duval took the end handed him, rather uncertainly, and swam back toward the ship.

Cora said, "But how will you get back? Suppose you can't push through the surface tension again?"

"Sure, I will. Besides, don't confuse the situation by taking up problem number 2 while problem number 1 is still with us."

Owens, within the ship, watched tensely as Duval swam up. "Do you need another pair of hands out there," he asked.

Duval said, "I don't think so. Besides, your pair are needed at the miniaturizer." He hitched the safety line to a small ring on the ship's metal skin and waved his arm. "OK, Grant."

Grant waved back. His second penetration of the interface was more quickly done for he had the knack now., First a slit, then one arm (ouch, the bruised bicep), then the other; then a strenuous push against the interface with his arms, and a kick with his finned legs and he popped out like watermelon seed from between finger and thumb.

He found himself between the two sticky walls of the intercellular slit. He looked down at Michaels' face, clearly visible but somewhat distorted through the curve of the interface.

"Push it through, Michaels.

Through the interface, he could make out a thrashing of limbs, the swing of an arm holding a knife. And then the blunt metal end of the snorkel made a partial appearance. Grant knelt and seized it. Bracing his back against one side of the crevice and his feet against the other, he pulled. The interface rose with it, clinging to it all about. Grant worked his way upward ahead of it, gasping out, "Push! Push!"

It broke through, clear at last. Inside the tube of the