Гарри Гаррисон - To The Stars

“It’s a monstrosity, a bastard combination of antique piping, worn valves — and modern electronic technology. The whole thing should be blown up and built over from scratch.”

“Not that bad, your honor, I think, not really that bad.” Radcliffe rubbed his reddened nose with the back of his hand, looked up guiltily when he saw it streaked and wet. The tall engineer beside him had not noticed; Radcliffe wiped it surreptitiously on his trouser leg. “It works, we produce a fine spirit…”

“It works — but just barely.” Jan Kulozik was tired and there was a sharp edge to his voice. “All of the packing glands should be replaced at once or it will blow itself up without any help from me. Look at those leaks, puddles of the stuff.”

“I’ll have it cleaned up at once, your honor.”

“That’s not what I mean. Stop the leaks in the first place. Do something constructive, man. That’s an order.”

“As you say, so shall it be done.”

Radcliffe lowered his head obediently, trembling. Jan looked down on the man’s balding head, the dusting of dandruff on the fringe of oily hair, and could feel only disgust. These people never learned. They could not think for themselves and even when ordered to do the correct thing made a mess of it half of the time. This manager was about as efficient as the collection of ancient fractioning columns, fermenting vats, and rusty pipes that made up this vegetable-fuel plant. It seemed a waste of time to install the automation controls.

Cold winter light from the tall windows barely outlined the dark mechanical shapes inside the building; spotlights made pools of yellow across the floor. One of the workmen shuffled into view, paused, and groped through his pockets. The motion caught Jan’s eye.

“That man — stop!” he shouted.

The command was sudden, startling. The workman had not known the engineer was there. He dropped the match even before he had lit the joint — and it fell into the pool of liquid at his feet. Sudden blue flame leaped high.

Jan shouldered the man aside roughly as he jumped for the fire extinguisher, tearing it from the bracket, pounding the release as he ran. The workman was stamping wildly at the pool of burning alcohol which only served to spread the flame.

Foam coughed out of the extinguisher’s mouth and Jan directed it down, around. The fire was out in a moment, but the workman’s trousers were smoldering. Jan whipped the foam across the man’s legs and then, in a fit of anger, up his legs, chest, splashing and coating his face with a white blanket.

“You’re an absolute fool, a total fool!”

Jan turned off the valve and threw the extinguisher down. The workman was gasping and wiping his eyes; Jan looked on coldly.

“You know smoking is forbidden in here. You must have been told often enough. And you’re standing right under a no smoking sign.”

“I… I don’t read so well, your honor.” He choked and spat out the bitter liquid.

“Not so well, or probably not at all. You’re fired, get out of here.”

“No, please, your honor, don’t say that,” the man wailed, the pain in his eyes forgotten, his mouth a gaping o of despair. “I’ve worked hard — my family — the dole for years…”

“The dole for life,” Jan said coldly, the anger drained away as he looked at the man before him, on his knees in the foam. “Just be happy that I’m not preferring sabotage charges.”

The situation was almost impossible. Jan stamped away, unaware of the staring eyes of the manager and the silent workmen. Just impossible. But better in the control room. Much better. He could almost relax, smile, as he looked at the shining order of the system he had installed. Cable conduits snaked in from all sides, merging and joining together at the control unit. He pressed the keys on the combination lock in sequence and the cover swung open. Silent, smooth, and perfect. The microcomputer in the heart of the machine ran everything with infinite precision. The terminal hung in its holster from his belt. He unclipped it and plugged it into the computer, tapped out a message on the keys. The screen lit up in instant response. No problems, not here. Though of course that wasn’t the case elsewhere in the plant. When he asked for a general condition report the lines of readout went marching by.

VALVE UNIT 376-L-9 LEAKING

VALVE UNIT 389-p-6 IN NEED OF REPLACEMENT

VALVE UNIT 429-p-8 LEAKING

It was all thoroughly depressing and he cleared the screen with a quick command. Behind him Radcliffe’s voice spoke quietly, respectfully from the open door.

Please excuse me, Engineer Kulozik, but it is about Simmons, the man you fired. He’s a good worker.”

“I don’t think he’s very good.” The anger was drained now and Jan wanted to be reasonable about this. But firm. “There will be plenty of people queuing up for his job. Any one of them will do it as well — or better.”

“He studied for years, your honor. Years. To get off the dole. That shows something.”

“Lighting that match showed even more. I’m sorry. I’m not a cruel man. But I’m thinking of you and the others here. What would you do if he burned down your jobs? You’re management, Radcliffe, and that’s the way you must think. It may be hard, and look wrong from the outside, but it is the only thing to do. You agree, don’t you?”

There was a slight hesitation, but the answer came.

“Of course. You’re right. I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll get him out of here now. We can’t have his kind around.”

“That’s the way to do it.”

A soft buzz and a flashing red light from the control unit drew Jan’s attention; Radcliffe hesitated in the doorway. The computer had found something wrong and wanted Jan to know about it, displaying the information.

VALVE UNIT 928-R-9 IS NOW INOPERATIVE IN PERMANENT OPEN CONDITION. IT HAS BEEN ISOLATED FOR REPLACEMENT.

“928-R. Sounds familiar.” Jan tapped the information into his personal computer and nodded. “I thought so. That thing was supposed to have been replaced last week. Was the job completed?”

“I’ll have to check the records.” Radcliffe was pale.

“Don’t bother. We both know it wasn’t done. So get out of here and get a valve and we will do the job now.”

Jan himself detached the motor drive unit, using a power wrench on the recalcitrant lugnuts. They were heavy with rust. Typical. It had apparently been too much effort to put some oil on them before they had been tightened. He stood aside and watched closely while the sweating proles struggled to get the old valve off, splashing through the runnels of liquid that ran from the pipe end. When the new unit had been fitted and tightened into place under his attentive eye — no second-rate job this time — he bolted on the motor drive. The work was done efficiently without any extra chatter and the workmen picked up their tools and left as soon as it was finished. Jan went back to control to open the blocked section and get the plant functioning again. Once more he had the condition report scroll by, then had a hard copy made. When it had emerged from the printer he dropped into a chair to go through it carefully, ticking off the items that seemed to need the most urgent attention. He was a tall, almost gangling man, in his late twenties. Women thought him good looking — a number had told him so but he did not think it particularly important. They were nice but they had their place. Which was immediately after microcircuit engineering. Whenever he read he frowned so that an almost permanent crease was stamped between his eyes. He frowned even more now as he went through the list a second time — then burst into a wide grin.