Arthur Hailey - Overload

"None whatever. Our programming method makes it possible to divide and subdivide our customers into many categories and any geographic area." the executive vice president relaxed as she warmed to a subject she clearly enjoyed. "When properly used, a modern computer is a sensitive and flexible tool. It's also totally reliable." She hesitated. "Well, almost totally."

As she spoke the last words, Mrs. Underhill glanced toward another IBM printer, flanked by a table at which two men were seated. They appeared to be checking computer printouts, one by one, by hand.

O'Brien was curious. "What's happening over there?"

For the first time since they had come in, Sharlett Underhill smiled.

"That's our 'VIP anti-goof squad.' Many public utilities have one."

Nim shook his head. "I work here and I've never heard of it."

They strolled to where the work was being done.

"Those are bills," Mrs. Underhill said, "based on latest meter readings, and due to go out tomorrow. What the billing computer does is separate the bills of several hundred people who are on a special list the mayor, supervisors, councilmen in the various cities we serve, senior state officials, Congressmen, newspaper editors and columnists, broadcasters, judges, prominent lawyers-others like that. Then each bill is inspected, as you're seeing now, to make sure there's nothing unusual about it. If there is, it’s sent to another department and double-checked before mailing. That way, we avoid fuss and embarrassment if a computer, or a person who programmed it, does slip up."

They watched the inspection continue, an occasional bill being extracted and put aside, while Sharlett Underhill reminisced.

"We once had a computer print a monthly bill for a city councilman. The computer tripped and added a string of extra zeros. His bill should have been forty-five dollars. Instead, it went to him as four million, five hundred thousand dollars."

They all laughed. Nim asked, "What happened?"

"That's the point. If he'd brought the bill in, or phoned, everyone would have had a good laugh, after which we'd have torn it up and probably given him a credit for his trouble. Instead, he called a press conference. He showed the bill around to prove how incompetent we are at GSP & L, and said it proved we ought to be taken over by the city."

O'Brien shook his head. "I can hardly believe it."

"I assure you it happened," Mrs. Underhill said. "Politicians are the worst people to magnify a simple mistake, even though they make more than most of us. But there are others. Anyway, it was about then we started our own 'VIP anti-goof squad.' I'd heard about it from Con Edison in New York. They have one. Now, whenever we come across anyone important or pompous or both, we add his-or her-name. We even have a few people in this company on the list."

O'Brien conceded, "I can be pompous at times. It's one of my weaknesses."

He pointed to the pile of bills. "Am I in there?"

"Oscar," Sharlett Underhill told him as she led the way out, "that is something you will never know."

Ruth Goldman was in New York.

She had gone to begin treatments at the Sloan-Kettering Institute and would be away two weeks. Other trips would be necessary later.

The decision had been taken by Dr. Levin after studying the test results from Ruth's previous visit and discussing them by telephone with the New York doctors. He told Nim and Ruth together, I can't make promises; no one can, and nothing is definite. But I'll go so far as to say that I, and the Sloan-Kettering people, are cautiously optimistic." That was as much as they could get from him.

Nim had taken Ruth to the airport early yesterday morning for an American Airlines non-stop flight. They had said an emotional goodbye.

"I love you," he declared just before Ruth boarded. "I'll miss you, and I'll be doing whatever's the equivalent of praying."

She had laughed then, and kissed him once more. "It's a strange thing," She had said, "but even with all this, I've never been happier."

In New York, Ruth was staying with friends and would attend the Institute several days a week as an outpatient.

Leah and Benjy had again gone to stay with their grandparents. This time, because relationships between Nim and the Neubergers were now cordial, Nim had promised to go over for dinner occasionally, to be with the children.

Nim had also-in fulfillment of an earlier promise-arranged to take Karen Sloan to the symphony.

He had received, several days ago, one of Karen's notes which read:

Days come, days go.

On some you are in the news

With Begin, Sadat, Schmidt, Brezhnev, Carter,

Giscard d'Estaing and Bishop Muzorewa.

But of them all, one Nimrod Goldman

Merits my front page.

It is good to read of you,

But better still

To see, and hear, be touched, and share,

And personally love.

He had sighed on reading it because he genuinely wanted to see Karen, then had thought guiltily: Any complications in his personal life were of his own making. Since the memorable evening when he and Karen made love, he had dropped in to see her twice during the daytime, but the visits were brief and hurried, with Nim on the way from somewhere to somewhere else. He knew that Karen craved a longer time together, with more intimacy.

Ruth's absence seemed an opportunity to be with Karen in a more satisfying way, and going to the symphony, instead of spending the evening in her home, was a compromise with his conscience.

* * *

When he arrived at Karen's apartment, she was ready, wearing a becoming dark red dress and a single strand of pearls. Her long blonde hair, brushed and gleaming, fell about her shoulders. The wide mouth and soft blue eyes smiled a warm greeting. The nails of her long fingers, which rested on a lapboard, were manicured and shining.

As they kissed, letting their closeness linger sweetly, Nim felt his desire for Karen, which had only been dormant, unmistakably revive. He felt relieved they were going out.

A minute or two later, after Josie had come in and was busy disconnecting the wheelchair from a power outlet so it could become more mobile, Karen said, "Nimrod, you've been tinder strain. It shows."

" A few things have happened," he admitted. "Some you've read about. But tonight there's only you and me and the music."

"And me," Josie said, coming around to the front of the whcelchair. The aide-housekeeper beamed at Nim, who was clearly one of her favorites. "But all I'm doing is driving you both. If you'll come down with Karen in a few minutes, Mr. Goldman, I'll go ahead and bring Huniperdinck around."

Nim laughed. "Ah, Humperdinck!" He asked Karen, "How is your van with a personality?"

"Still wonderful, but"-her face clouded-"what I worry about is my father."

"In what way?"

She shook her head. "Let's leave it now. Perhaps I'll tell you later."

As usual, Nim marveled at the dexterity with which Karen, using only her sip-blow tube, piloted her chair out of the apartment, along a corridor, and toward the elevator.

On the way he-asked, "How long does the battery last for?"

She smiled. "Tonight I'm fully charged. So, using the battery for thechair and my respirator, probably four hours. After that, I'll need to plug in again to dear old GSP & L."

It fascinated him how tenuous was Karen's hold on life, and that electricity kept her living.

"Speaking of GSP & L," she said, "how are your problems?"

"Oh, we always have a new assortment. They sprout like weeds."

"No, seriously. I want to know."

"Well, suddenly, oil is our biggest worry," be told her. "Did you hear that the latest talks between OPEC and the United States broke down today?"

"It was on the radio before you came. The oil exporting countries say they won't take anymore paper money. Only gold."