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, and accept whatever disposition the board makes of you.” He paused, but Harper maintained an expressionless silence. “Tell you what, son-why don’t, you take a few days’ leave? Then, when you come back,’ you can go up before the board, or transfer to another department away from the bomb, whichever you prefer.” He looked to Shard for approval, and received a nod.
But Harper was not mollified. “No, chief,” he protested. “It won’t do. Can’t you’ see what’s wrong? It’s this constant supervision. Somebody always watching the back of your neck, expecting you to go crazy. A man can’t even shave in private. We’re jumpy about the most innocent acts, for fear some head doctor, half batty himself, will see it and decide it’s a sign we’re slipping-good grief, what do you expect!”
His outburst having run its course, he subsided into a flippant cynicism that did” not quite jell. “O.K.-never mind the strait jacket; I’ll go quietly. You’re a good Joe in spite of it, chief,” he added, “and I’m glad to have worked under you. Goodbye.”
King kept the pain in his eyes out of his voice. ‘Wait a minute, Cal-you’re not through here. Let’s forget about the vacation.’ I’m transferring you to the radiation laboratory. You belong in research anyhow; I’d never have spared you from it to stand watches if I hadn’t been short on number-one men.
“As for the constant psychological observation, I hate it as much as you do. I don’t suppose you know that they watch me about twice as hard as they watch you duty engineers.”
Harper showed his surprise, but Shard nodded in sober conflation. “But we have to have this supervision. . . Do you remember Manning? No, he was before your time. We didn’t have’ psychological observers then. Manning was able and brilliant. Furthermore, he was always cheerful; nothing seemed to bother him.
“I was glad to have him on the pile, for he was always alert, and never seemed nervous about working with it-in fact he grew more buoyant and cheerful the longer he stood control watches. I should have known that was a very bad sign, but I didn’t, and there was no observer to ‘tell me so.
“His technician had to slug him one night. . . He found him dismounting the, safety interlocks on the cadmium assembly. Poor old Manning never pulled out of it- he’s been violently insane ever since. After Manning cracked up, we worked out the present system of two qualified engineers and an observer for every watch. It seemed the only thing to do.”
“I suppose so, chief,” Harper mused, his face no longer sullen, but still unhappy. “It’s a hell of a situation just the same.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” He got up and put out his hand. “Cal, unless you’re dead set on leaving us, I’ll expect to see you at the radiation laboratory tomorrow. Another thing-I don’t often recommend this, but it might do you good to get drunk tonight.”
King had signed to Shard to remain after the young man left. Once the door was closed he turned back to the psychiatrist. “There goes another one-and one of the best. Doctor, what am I going to do?”
Silard pulled at his cheek. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “The hell of it is, Harper’s absolutely right. It does increase the strain on them to know that they are being watched… and yet they have to be watched. Your psychiatric staff isn’t doing too well, either. It makes us nervous to be around the Big Bomb… the more so because we don’t understand it. And it’s a strain on us to be hated and despised as we are. Scientific detachment is difficult under such conditions; I’m getting jumpy myself.”
King ceased pacing the floor and faced the doctor. “But there must be some solution-” he insisted.
Silard shook his head. “It’s beyond me, Superintendent. I see no solution from the standpoint of psychology.”