concentrating on assembling their own devices, he removed the cover of his. Once more.
They had been at this tedious and exacting task ever since Terry had arranged all the wires and connecting cords to Aivas’s satisfaction. It soothed Piemur only slightly that Benelek, who had always been mechanically inclined and good with his hands, was not faring any better. Nor was Jancis, though her current ineptitude distressed him for her sake. Piemur’s shoulders ached with cramp, his fingers were thick with all the finicky little movements, and he was going sour on the whole project. It had seemed such a simple affair. Find the cartons in the caves with the stored units, dust ’em off, start ’em up, and that’d be that. But it wasn’t. First Aivas had made them learn what each unit was—keyboard, liquid-crystal display, computer box, touch keyboard panel—and the codes for the various “boards” that activated the computer terminal. Fortunately, when it came to soldering broken connections, Jancis and Benelek were adept. Piemur burned his fingers once or twice in practice, but he caught on quickly enough. Fingers made dexterous by playing instruments easily adapted to the new task. But the initial enthusiasm that had motivated Piemur since before dawn had long since drained out of him. Only the fact that neither Jancis nor Benelek faltered kept him going.
“Let us begin again,” the inexorable, calm Aivas voice continued, “by checking each panel to be sure there is no damage or break in the circuits or chips.”
“I’ve done that twice already,” Piemur said, setting his jaw.
“Then it must be done again. Make use of the magnifying glass. That is why our boards were all made to be visible, serviceable. On Earth it was not possible to check them visually like this. There it was done by facilities in factory outlets. Here we must just proceed patiently.”
Holding his temper firmly in check, Piemur went over the chips, circuit by circuit, scrutinizing the resistors and capacitors. The beads and silvery lines that had once fascinated him had become anathema, called by stupid terms that meant nothing to him but trouble. He devoutly wished he had never seen the bloody things. Close scrutiny did not disclose any obvious breaks. So, exercising the greatest control on his fingers, he replaced each component as carefully as he could. They all slotted firmly into place.
“Be sure that each card is seated securely in the grooves,” said the ever-calm Aivas.
“I just did, Aivas!” Piemur knew he sounded petulant, but in the face of Aivas’s imperturbability, he found it even harder to be objective. Then his good humor reasserted itself. Machines, he reminded himself facetiously, did only what they were programmed to do. They did not have emotions to interfere with the smooth performance of their duties—once a smooth performance had been attained.
“Before you replace the cover, Piemur, blow gently across the unit to be sure there are no motes of dust clogging the connections.”
Master Esselin had the reconstruction of the Aivas facility in hand, but the work roused clouds of dust, some of which sifted into the chamber despite all precautions.
Piemur blew carefully. Replaced the cover. Picked up the plug and inserted it. It took him a full moment to realize that a green light indeed shone on the panel just where it was supposed to, and that a letter had appeared on the liquid-crystal display. He let out a whoop, startling Jancis and Benelek.
“Don’t do that, Piemur,” the young journeyman exclaimed, scowling up at him. “I nearly soldered the wrong connection.”
“It’s really working, Piemur?” Jancis looked up hopefully.
“Green and go!” Piemur chortled, rubbing his hands together, ignoring Benelek’s sour looks. “All right, Aivas, now what do I do?”
“Using the letters on the keys in front of you, tap out README .”
Hunting out the various letters, Piemur tapped out the phrase.
They had been at this tedious and exacting task ever since Terry had arranged all the wires and connecting cords to Aivas’s satisfaction. It soothed Piemur only slightly that Benelek, who had always been mechanically inclined and good with his hands, was not faring any better. Nor was Jancis, though her current ineptitude distressed him for her sake. Piemur’s shoulders ached with cramp, his fingers were thick with all the finicky little movements, and he was going sour on the whole project. It had seemed such a simple affair. Find the cartons in the caves with the stored units, dust ’em off, start ’em up, and that’d be that. But it wasn’t. First Aivas had made them learn what each unit was—keyboard, liquid-crystal display, computer box, touch keyboard panel—and the codes for the various “boards” that activated the computer terminal. Fortunately, when it came to soldering broken connections, Jancis and Benelek were adept. Piemur burned his fingers once or twice in practice, but he caught on quickly enough. Fingers made dexterous by playing instruments easily adapted to the new task. But the initial enthusiasm that had motivated Piemur since before dawn had long since drained out of him. Only the fact that neither Jancis nor Benelek faltered kept him going.
“Let us begin again,” the inexorable, calm Aivas voice continued, “by checking each panel to be sure there is no damage or break in the circuits or chips.”
“I’ve done that twice already,” Piemur said, setting his jaw.
“Then it must be done again. Make use of the magnifying glass. That is why our boards were all made to be visible, serviceable. On Earth it was not possible to check them visually like this. There it was done by facilities in factory outlets. Here we must just proceed patiently.”
Holding his temper firmly in check, Piemur went over the chips, circuit by circuit, scrutinizing the resistors and capacitors. The beads and silvery lines that had once fascinated him had become anathema, called by stupid terms that meant nothing to him but trouble. He devoutly wished he had never seen the bloody things. Close scrutiny did not disclose any obvious breaks. So, exercising the greatest control on his fingers, he replaced each component as carefully as he could. They all slotted firmly into place.
“Be sure that each card is seated securely in the grooves,” said the ever-calm Aivas.
“I just did, Aivas!” Piemur knew he sounded petulant, but in the face of Aivas’s imperturbability, he found it even harder to be objective. Then his good humor reasserted itself. Machines, he reminded himself facetiously, did only what they were programmed to do. They did not have emotions to interfere with the smooth performance of their duties—once a smooth performance had been attained.
“Before you replace the cover, Piemur, blow gently across the unit to be sure there are no motes of dust clogging the connections.”
Master Esselin had the reconstruction of the Aivas facility in hand, but the work roused clouds of dust, some of which sifted into the chamber despite all precautions.
Piemur blew carefully. Replaced the cover. Picked up the plug and inserted it. It took him a full moment to realize that a green light indeed shone on the panel just where it was supposed to, and that a letter had appeared on the liquid-crystal display. He let out a whoop, startling Jancis and Benelek.
“Don’t do that, Piemur,” the young journeyman exclaimed, scowling up at him. “I nearly soldered the wrong connection.”
“It’s really working, Piemur?” Jancis looked up hopefully.
“Green and go!” Piemur chortled, rubbing his hands together, ignoring Benelek’s sour looks. “All right, Aivas, now what do I do?”
“Using the letters on the keys in front of you, tap out README .”
Hunting out the various letters, Piemur tapped out the phrase.
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