"Wimpler," Elmo corrected.

"Send him in," a voice crackled over the speaker.

She nodded him toward the door.

Inside the room, three men sat at a long table. They watched carefully as Wimpler approached them.

He placed the paper bag on the table, cleared his throat, and said, "I am Elmo Wimpler." He started to go on, but one of the men interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, guy, we're the panel you have to show your stuff to. We make all the decisions on inventions and like that. Show us what you got, 'cause we ain't got all day."

"Very well."

Wimpler opened the bag and took out a piece of black cloth, a small vase, and the spray can of paint.

He draped the black curtain over a small picture that hung from the wall.

"C'mon, pal, speed it up," the same man told him. "You're not setting a stage, you know. We've got a lot of other geniuses to see, so don't be wasting our time."

Elmo adjusted the black cloth so it hung smoothly.

"Jesus Christ, what is this guy, an interior decora-

Wimpler ignored them. When they saw what his

invention did, then they'd know he was no crackpot, there to waste their time and his money.

He moved a small table over in front of the painting and set the white vase on the table. It was an ornately carved, cheap, little, milk-glass vase.

Without paying any attention to the three men, he sprayed the white vase with his spray can of black paint. He turned to look at the three members of the panel with a smug look on his face.

They looked at him as if he were from another planet.

'So, you got a black vase?" one of them said. "And it used to be white."

"Watch. It'll dry quickly," Elmo said. He turned to watch himself. The paint was drying before his eyes, and as it did, the definition of the vase seemed to vanish. And then the paint was dried, and the vase was invisible against the black cloth background, i Who needs that?"