all-enclosing armor. “Who’d I draw?”
“Erickson.”
Page 17
“Good enough. Squareheads can’t go crazy-eh, Gus?”
Erickson looked up momentarily, and answered, “That’s your problem,” and
returned to his work. Cummings turned back to Silard, and commented, “Psychiatrists
don’t seem very popular around here. O.K.-I relieve you, sir.”
“Very well, sir.”
Silard threaded his way through the zig-zag in the outer shield which
surrounded the control room. Once outside this outer shield, he divested himself of
the cumbersome armor, disposed of it in the locker room provided, and hurried to a
lift. He left the lift at the tube station, underground, and looked around for an
unoccupied capsule. Finding one, he strapped himself in, sealed the gasketed door,
and settled the back of his head into the rest against the expected surge of
acceleration.
Five minutes later he knocked at the door of the office of the general
superintendent, twenty miles away.
The breeder plant proper was located in a bowl of desert hills on the
Arizona plateau. Everything not necessary to the immediate operation of the
plant-administrative offices, television station, and so forth-lay beyond the hills.
The buildings housing these auxiliary functions were of the most durable
construction technical ingenuity could devise. It was hoped that, if the tag ever
came, occupants would stand approximately the chance of survival of a man going over
Niagara Falls in a barrel.
Silard knocked again. He was greeted by a male secretary, Steinke. Silard
recalled reading his case history. Formerly one of the most brilliant of the young
engineers, he had suffered a blanking out of the ability to handle mathematical
operations. A plain case of fugue, but there had been nothing that the poor devil
could do about it- he had been anxious enough with his conscious mind to stay on
duty. He had been rehabilitated as an office worker.
Steinke ushered him into the superintendent’s private office. Harper was
there before him, and returned his greeting with icy politeness. The superintendent
was cordial, but Silard thought he. looked tired, as if the twenty-four-hour-a-day
strain was too much for him.
“Come in, Doctor, come In. Sit down. Now. tell me about this. I’m a little’
surprised. I thought Harper was one of my steadiest men.”
“I don’t say he isn’t, sir.”
“Well?”
“He may be perfectly all right, but your instructions to me are not to take
any chances.”
“Quite right” The superintendent gave the engineer, silent and tense in his
chair, a troubled glance, then returned his attention to Silard. “Suppose you tell
me about it.”
Silard took a deep breath. “While on watch as psychological observer at the
control station I noticed that the engineer of the watch seemed preoccupied and less
responsive to stimuli than usual. During my off-watch observation of this case, over
a period of the past several days, I have suspected an increasing lack of attention.
For example, while playing contract bridge, he now occasionally asks for a review of
the bidding which is contrary to his former behavior pattern.
“Other similar data are available. To cut it short, at 3:11 today, while on
watch, I saw Harper, with no apparent reasonable purpose in mind, pick up a wrench
used only for operating the valves of the water shield and approach the trigger. I
relieved him of duty, and sent him out of the control room.”
“Chief!” Harper calmed himself somewhat and continued, “If this witch-doctor
knew a wrench from an oscillator, he’d know what I was doing. The wrench was on the
wrong rack. I noticed it, and picked it up to return it to its proper place. On the
way, I stopped to check the readings!”
The superintendent turned inquiringly to Doctor Shard. “That may be true-
Granting that it is true,” answered the psychiatrist doggedly, “my diagnosis still
stands. Your behavior pattern has altered; your present actions are unpredictable,
and I can’t approve you for responsible work without a complete check-up.”
General Superintendent King drummed on the desktop, and sighed. Then he
spoke slowly to Harper, “Cal, you’re a good boy, and believe me, I know how you
feel. But: there is no way to avoid it-you’ve got to go up for the psychometricals,