William Johnston - Max Smart Loses Control

Max: I’ll have to ask Hymie, Chief. He’s in charge-remember?

Chief: Then put him on.

Max: He’s in another room, Chief. But I’ll go get him. In the meantime, you can talk to Harold and the Operator. Try to find out, will you, why. the Operator’s mother thinks of Harold as her own son when she only has daughters.

Max slipped his slipper back on his foot, then went to Hymie’s room. Hymie was asleep. But Max woke him and told him the Chief was on the line and wanted to talk to him.

“What time is it?” Hymie asked groggily.

Max looked at his watch. “Two o’clock in the morning,” he replied. Then he sat down on the edge of Hymie’s bed, took off his slipper, and handed it to Hymie.

Hymie: Chief? Why are you calling at two o’clock in the morning?

Harold: You’ve been swimming with your watch on, too, I’ll bet.

Hymie: Who’s this?

Operator: Hymie, that’s Harold. He’s my brother-in-law-although Mother thinks of him as her own son, practically. He’s in the telephone answering service business.

Chief: Forget all that, Hymie. I’m the one who’s calling you. I couldn’t sleep. I want to know how the case is progressing.

Operator: Should Harold be listening to this, Chief? You’ve heard about his connection with KAOS, I suppose.

Chief: Nobody’s supposed to be listening, Operator! I want this line cleared! Understand! Cleared!

Hymie handed the slipper back to Max. “He didn’t want to talk to me, after all,” he said. “He told me to get off the line.”

Max shook his head in dismay. “The Chief is getting old in his old age,” he said sorrowfully. “It’s a sure sign when you start calling people up at two o’clock in the morning and you don’t even want to talk to them. I hope he doesn’t make a habit of it.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe I better get myself an answering service,” he said.

Max was awakened roughly the next morning, and when he managed to open his eyes he found Hymie shaking him.

“We overslept, Max,” Hymie explained.

Max reached for his watch, which he had placed on the bedside table. “It’s only two o’clock in the morning!” he complained.

“Your watch stopped, Max-remember?”

“Oh. . yes.” Max sat up. “What time is it, actually?” he asked.

“Nine, Max.”

“Oh? What are we late for?” Max asked. “If we overslept, we must be late for something. And, if we’re late-why bother? We’ve probably already missed the important part. Let’s go back to sleep and try again tomorrow morning.”

“There’s no time for sleep, Max,” Hymie said. “I think we’re in danger. Ways and Means are trying to trick us. When I got up a few minutes ago, I switched on my bedside computer, and it told me to go clean-shaven this morning.”

Max peered at him. “You’re still wearing your handlebar mustache,” he said. “You mean you defied your bedside computer, Hymie? That’s terrible. That could mean seven years bad luck!”

“That’s a superstition, Max,” Hymie said.

“Oh, it is, is it? Well, what would you say if I told you that my uncle Harry defied his bedside computer once, and his seven years bad luck started immediately?”

“What happened, Max?”

“He broke a mirror.”

“All right, Max, it’s seven years bad luck. But what bothers me is, I’m afraid it’s a trick. I think Ways and Means want us to discard our mustaches so they can recognize us.”

Max shook his head. “That’s ridiculous, Hymie. They already recognized us. Remember? When we were face to face with them last night, Means stared at me and said, ‘You!’ And Ways stared at you and said, ‘You!’” He frowned. “Or was it the other way around? Maybe it was Ways who stared at me, and Means who stared at you. I’m a little fuzzy on that.”

“What difference does it make, Max?”

Max shrugged. “How should I know? You’re the man-in-charge-you tell me.”

“Max, I don’t think that saying ‘You!’ means that they recognized us,” Hymie said. “Or, if it does, it doesn’t mean that they recognized us as Max Smart and Hymie. It could mean that they recognized us as the two hired hands they hired.”

“Hymie, this is getting a little confusing. Could you start at the beginning?”

“I came over here to find out if your bedside computer will give you the same orders that mine gave me,” Hymie said. “If it does, that will probably indicate that all the computers are giving the same order to everybody.”

“So?”

“So, if that’s the way it is, we’ll have to figure out what it means, and act accordingly,” Hymie said.

Max reached over and punched a button on his bedside computer. There was a clicking sound, then the computer disgorged a tape. Max tore it off and read it.

The tape said: IT PAYS TO LOOK WELL. GO CLEAN-SHAVEN TODAY.

“That’s a nice thought,” Max said.

“It’s a trick,” Hymie said.

“I don’t know. . it might just be some institutional advertising for the barbers’ union,” Max said.

Hymie shook his head. “Think, Max! All of the hired hands at this ranch wear handlebar mustaches. That’s why we’re wearing them-so we’ll look like all the others. But, if we all go clean-shaven today, Ways and Means will be able to recognize us.”

“So that’s why we’ll continue to wear the mustaches-right?”

“I don’t know, Max. It’s a difficult problem. It doesn’t compute.”

“Then we’ll have to rely on my experience, Hymie. And I say we should continue to wear the mustaches. Here’s what I think Means and Ways have done. They recognized us last night as the two new hired hands. So, while we were sleeping, they gimmicked our computers. We’ll be the only hired hands on the whole ranch who’ll be without mustaches. And, without mustaches, they’ll recognize us as Max Smart and Hymie. There. . clear?”

“Max, there are a few details you’re leaving out.”

“Maybe so, Hymie. But it’s better than your way. Your way, we’re in doubt about what to do. But, my way, our course is clear. Isn’t that better?”

“But, Max, in the end-”

“Let’s not argue about it, Hymie. There’s an old saying that fits this situation. It goes: When in doubt about what to do, do something anyway. Anything is better than nothing, isn’t it, Hymie? We live in a fast, action-packed time. Do you know what happens to people who do nothing because they’re afraid of doing the wrong thing, Hymie? They get left behind. The people who are advancing are the people who are doing something, whether it’s the right thing or not. That’s always been my motto: do something. That explains why I’m where I am today. And it explains, also, I imagine, why you’re where you are today. There’s a lesson in that, Hymie.”

“You mean that’s why I’m in charge and you’re taking orders?”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Max said sourly. “That happens to be a sad result of politics. Go comb your mustache,” he said, “while I get dressed.”

A few minutes later, Max and Hymie met in the corridor, both wearing mustaches. The instant they stepped out the door they were jumped on and taken prisoner by a half-dozen hired hands, none of whom were wearing mustaches.

“See? Isn’t this better than doing nothing?” Max said to Hymie. “Now, at least, we know where we stand. If we were still in the bunkhouse, fretting about what to do, we’d be nervous wrecks by now.”

The hired hands took them to the pool, then pushed them in. The guests around the pool applauded. The hired hands then dove into the pool, opened the door to the secret installation, hustled Max and Hymie inside, then closed the door behind them.