The Worlds of Robert A. Heinlein

Harper did, for I saw him do it — with Isotope V. I’m sorry.”

Understanding broke over Harper’s face, and he slapped the older man on the

shoulder. “Don’t be sorry,” he laughed; “you can come around to our lab and

help us make mistakes any time you feel in the mood. Can’t he, Gus? This is

the answer, Dr. Lentz; this is it!”

“But,” the psychiatrist pointed out, “you don’t know which isotope blew

up.”

“Nor care,” Harper supplemented. “Maybe it was both, taken together. But we

will know — this business is cracked now; we’ll soon have it open.” He

gazed happily around at the wreckage.

In spite of Superintendent King’s anxiety, Lentz refused to be hurried in

passing judgment on the situation. Consequently, when he did present

himself at King’s office, and announced that he was ready to report, King

was pleasantly surprised as well as relieved. “Well, I’m delighted,” he

said. “Sit down, Doctor, sit down. Have a cigar. What do we do about it?”

But Lentz stuck to his perennial cigarette and refused to be hurried. “I

must have some information first. How important,” he demanded, “is the

power from your plant?”

King understood the implication at once. If you are thinking about shutting

down the bomb for more than a limited period, it can’t be done.”

“Why not? If the figures supplied me are correct, your output is less than

thirteen percent of the total power used in the country.”

“Yes, that is true, but you haven’t considered the items that go into

making up the total. A lot of it is domestic power, which householders get

from sunscreens located on their own roofs. Another big slice is power for

the moving roadways — that’s sunpower again. The portion we provide here is

the main power source for most of the heavy industries — steel, plastics,

lithics, all kinds of manufacturing and processing. You might as well cut

the heart out of a man — ”

“But the food industry isn’t basically dependent on you?” Lentz persisted.

“No. Food isn’t basically a power industry — although we do supply a

certain percentage of the power used in processing. I see your point, and

will go on and concede that transportation — that is to say, distribution

of food — could get along without us. But, good heavens, Doctor, you can’t

stop atomic power without causing the biggest panic this country has ever

seen. It’s the keystone of our whole industrial system.”

“The country has lived through panics before, and we got past the oil

shortage safely.”

“Yes — because atomic power came along to take the place of oil. You don’t

realize what this would mean, Doctor. It would be worse than a war; in a

system like ours, one thing depends on another. If you cut off the heavy

industries all at once, everything else stops, too.”

“Nevertheless, you had better dump the bomb.” The uranium in the bomb was

molten, its temperature being greater than twenty-four hundred degrees

centigrade. The bomb could be dumped into a group of small containers, when

it was desired to shut it down. The mass in any one container was too small

to maintain progressive atomic disintegration.

King glanced involuntarily at the glass-inclosed relay mounted on his

office wall, by which he, as well as the engineer on duty, could dump the

bomb, if need be. “But I couldn’t do that — or rather, if I did, the plant

wouldn’t stay shut down. The Directors would simply replace me with someone

who would operate the bomb.”

“You’re right, of course.” Lentz silently considered the situation for some

time, then said, “Superintendent, will you order a car to fly me back to

Chicago?”

“You’re going, Doctor?”

“Yes.” He took the cigarette holder from his face, and, for once, the smile

of Olympian detachment was gone completely. His entire manner was sober,

even tragic. “Short of shutting down the bomb, there is no solution to your

problem-none whatsoever!

“I owe you a full explanation,” Lentz continued, at length. “You are

confronted here with recurring; instances of situational psychoneurosis.

Roughly, the symptoms manifest themselves as anxiety neurosis or some form

of hysteria. The partial amnesia of your secretary, Steinke, is a good

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