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The GoalIt's not ex- actly how I feel; I spent the whole night tossing in my bed, searching for any opening, which I never did find. "I think that I have one," Stacey speaks up. "Not exactly a breakthrough, but..." "Wait," says Ralph. Ralph interrupting. That's new. In an apologetic tone he explains, "Before we go off on a different angle, I'd like to return to where we were yesterday. I think we were too hasty in our decision that classification of data can't lead to something good. May I?" "Sure," Stacey says, almost in relief. "Well," Ralph fidgets, apparently uncomfortable, "as you know, or maybe you don't, I minored in chemistry in college. I don't know much about it, but one story stuck in my mind. Last night I looked back at my notes from class and I think you'll find it interesting as well. It's a story about a remarkable Russian named Mendeleev, and it happened less than one hundred fifty years ago." Noticing that he grabbed our attention, he becomes more confident. Ralph is a family man and has three little children, so he's probably used to telling stories. "Right from the start, in the days of ancient Greece, people postulated that underlying the phenomenal variety of materials there must be a simple set of elements from which all other sub- stances are composed." As he gets into his story his voice becomes rich with under- tones. "The Greeks naively assumed that the elements were air, earth, water and..." "Fire," Bob completes the list. "Correct," says Ralph. What a wasted talent ...» |
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