‘So? Well, what is it?
‘We've got to consult Waldo.
Rambeau suddenly snapped out of his apathy. ‘What! That charlatan? This is a matter of science.
Harkness said, ‘Really, Dr Stevens-
Gleason held up a hand. ‘Dr Stevens's suggestion is logicaL But I'm afraid it's a little late, Jimmie. I talked with him last week.
Harkness looked surprised; Stevens looked annoyed as well. ‘Without letting me know?
‘Sorry, Jimmie. I was just feeling him out. But it's no good. His terms, to us, amount to confiscation.
‘Still sore over the Hathaway patents?
‘Still nursing his grudge.
‘You should have let me handle the matter,' Harkness put in. ‘He can't do this to us - There is public interest involved. Retain him, if need be, and let the fee be adjudicated in equity. I'll arrange the details.
‘I'm afraid you would,' Gleason said dryly. ‘Do you think a court order will make a hen lay an egg?
Harkness looked indignant, but shut up
Stevens continued, ‘I would not have suggested going to Waldo if I had not had an idea as to how to approach him. I know a friend of his-
‘A friend of Waldo? I didn't know he had any.
‘This man is sort of an uncle to him, his first physician. With his help I might get on Waldo's good side.
Dr Rambeau stood up. ‘This is intolerable,' he announced. ‘I must ask you to excuse me.' He did not wait for an answer, but strode out, hardly giving the door time to open in front of him
Gleason followed his departure with worried eyes. ‘Why does he take it so hard, Jimmie? You would think he hated Waldo personally.
‘Probably he does, in a way. But it's more than that; his whole universe is toppling. For the last twenty years, ever since Pryor's reformulation of the General Field Theory did away with Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, physics has been considered an exact science. The power failures and transmission failures we have been suffering are a terrific nuisance to you and to me, but to Dr Rambeau they amount to an attack on his faith. Better keep an eye on him.
‘Why?
‘Because he might come unstuck entirely. It's a pretty serious matter for a man's religion to fail him.
‘Hm-m-m. How about yourself? Doesn't it hit you just as hard?
‘Not quite. I'm an engineer- From Rambeau's point of view just a high-priced tinker. Difference in orientation. Not but what I'm pretty upset.
The audio circuit of the communicator on Gleason's desk came to life. ‘Calling Chief Engineer Stevens - calling Chief Engineer Stevens.' Gleason flipped the tab
‘He's here. Go ahead.
‘Company code, translated. Message follows: "Cracked up four miles north of Cincinnati. Shall I go on to Nebraska, or bring in the you-know-what from my own crate?" Message ends. Signed "Mac".
‘Tell him to walk back!' Stevens said savagely
‘Very well, sir.' The instrument cut off
‘Your assistant?' asked Gleason
‘Yes. That's about the last straw, chief. Shall I wait and try to analyse this failure, or shall I try to see Waldo?
‘Try to see Waldo.
‘OK. If you don't hear from me, just send my severance pay care of Palmdale Inn, Miami. I'll be the fourth beachcomber from the right.
Gleason permitted himself an unhappy smile. ‘If you don't get results, I'll bç the fifth. Good luck.
‘So long.
When Stevens had gone, Chief Stationary Engineer Striebel spoke up for the first time. ‘If the power to the cities fails,' he said softly, ‘you know where I'll be, don't you?
‘Where? Beachcomber number six?
‘Not likely. I'll be number one in my spot, first man to be lynched.
‘But the power to the cities can't fail. You've got too many cross- connects and safety devices.
‘Neither can the deKalbs fail, supposedly. Just the same, think about Sublevel 7 in Pittsburgh, with the lights out. Or, rather, don't think about it!
Doc Grimes let himself into the aboveground access which led into his home, glanced at the announcer, and noted with mild, warm interest that someone close enough to him to possess his house combination was inside. He moved ponderously downstairs, favouring his game leg, and entered the lounging room
‘Hi, Doc!' James Stevens got up when the door snapped open and came forward to greet him
‘H'lo, James. Pour yourself a drink. I see you have. Pour me one.
‘Right.
While his friend complied, Grimes shucked himself out of the outlandish anachronistic greatcoat he was wearing and threw it more or less in the direction of the robing alcove. It hit the floor heavily, much more heavily than its appearance justified, despite its unwieldy bulk. It clunked
Stooping, he peeled off thick overtrousers as massive as the coat
He was dressed underneath in conventional business tights in blue and sable. It was not a style that suited him. To an eye unsophisticated in matters of civilized dress, let us say the mythical Man-from-Antares - he might have seemed uncouth, even unsightly. He looked a good bit like an elderly fat beetle
James Stevens's eye made no note of the tights, but he looked with disapproval on the garments which had just been discarded. ‘Still wearing that fool armour,' he commented
‘Certainly.
‘Damn it, Doc - you'll make yourself sick, carrying that junk around. It's unhealthy.
‘Danged sight sicker if I don't.