shoulder, “Dave, will you order a car for me? Make it a fast one!” He was across the hall, and had his head inside his private office before Davidson could acknowledge the order.
“Dolores!”
“Yes, Mr. Gaines.”
“Call my wife, and tell her I had to go to Stockton. If she’s already left home, just have her wait here. And Dolores—”
“Yes, Mr. Gaines?”
“Calm her down.”
She bit her lip, but her face was impassive. “Yes, Mr. Gaines.”
“That’s a good girl.” He was out and started down the stairway. When he reached road level, the sight of the rolling strips warmed him inside and made him feel almost cheerful.
He strode briskly away toward a door marked ACCESS DOWN, whistling softly to himself. He opened the door, and the rumbling, roaring rhythm from ‘down inside’ seemed to pick up the tune even as it drowned out the sound of his whistling.
“ Hie! Hie! Hee!
The rotor men are we—
Check off the sectors loud and strong! One! Two! Three!
Anywhere you go
You are bound to know
That your roadways are rolling along! ”
Blowups Happen
“ PUT DOWN that wrench!”
The man addressed turned slowly around and faced the speaker. His expression was hidden by a grotesque helmet, part of a heavy, lead-and-cadmium armor which shielded his entire body, but the tone of voice in which he answered showed nervous exasperation.
“What the hell’s eating on you, doc?” He made no move to replace the tool in question.
They faced each other like two helmeted, arrayed fencers, watching for an opening. The first speaker’s voice came from behind his mask a shade higher in key and more peremptory in tone. “You heard me, Harper. Put down that wrench at once, and come away from that ‘trigger’. Erickson!”
A third armored figure came from the far end of the control room. “What ’cha want, doc?”
“Harper is relieved from watch. You take over as engineer-of-the-watch. Send for the standby engineer.”
“Very well.” His voice and manner were phlegmatic, as he accepted the situation without comment. The atomic engineer whom he had just relieved glanced from one to the other, then carefully replaced the wrench in its rack.
“Just as you say, Doctor Silard—but send for your relief, too. I shall demand an immediate hearing!” Harper swept indignantly out, his lead-sheathed boots clumping on the floorplates.
Doctor Silard waited unhappily for the ensuing twenty minutes until his own relief arrived. Perhaps he had been hasty. Maybe he was wrong in thinking that Harper had at last broken under the strain of tending the most dangerous machine in the world—the atomic breeder plant. But if he had made a mistake, it had to be on the safe side—slips must not happen in this business; not when a slip might result in atomic detonation of nearly ten tons of uranium-238, U-235, and plutonium.
He tried to visualize what that would mean, and failed. He had been told that uranium was potentially twenty million times as explosive as T.N.T. The figure was meaningless that way. He thought of the pile instead as a hundred million tons of high explosive, or as a thousand Hiroshimas. It still did not mean anything. He had once seen an A-bomb dropped, when he had been serving as a temperament analyst for the Air Forces. He could not imagine the explosion of a thousand such bombs; his brain balked.
Perhaps these atomic engineers could. Perhaps, with their greater mathematical ability and closer comprehension of what actually went on inside the nuclear fission chamber, they had some vivid glimpse of the mind-shattering horror locked up beyond that shield. If so, no wonder they tended to blow up—
He sighed. Erickson looked away from the controls of the linear resonant accelerator on which he had been making some adjustment. “What’s the trouble, doc?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry I had to relieve Harper.”
Silard could feel the shrewd glance of the big Scandinavian. “Not getting the jitters
“Dolores!”
“Yes, Mr. Gaines.”
“Call my wife, and tell her I had to go to Stockton. If she’s already left home, just have her wait here. And Dolores—”
“Yes, Mr. Gaines?”
“Calm her down.”
She bit her lip, but her face was impassive. “Yes, Mr. Gaines.”
“That’s a good girl.” He was out and started down the stairway. When he reached road level, the sight of the rolling strips warmed him inside and made him feel almost cheerful.
He strode briskly away toward a door marked ACCESS DOWN, whistling softly to himself. He opened the door, and the rumbling, roaring rhythm from ‘down inside’ seemed to pick up the tune even as it drowned out the sound of his whistling.
“ Hie! Hie! Hee!
The rotor men are we—
Check off the sectors loud and strong! One! Two! Three!
Anywhere you go
You are bound to know
That your roadways are rolling along! ”
Blowups Happen
“ PUT DOWN that wrench!”
The man addressed turned slowly around and faced the speaker. His expression was hidden by a grotesque helmet, part of a heavy, lead-and-cadmium armor which shielded his entire body, but the tone of voice in which he answered showed nervous exasperation.
“What the hell’s eating on you, doc?” He made no move to replace the tool in question.
They faced each other like two helmeted, arrayed fencers, watching for an opening. The first speaker’s voice came from behind his mask a shade higher in key and more peremptory in tone. “You heard me, Harper. Put down that wrench at once, and come away from that ‘trigger’. Erickson!”
A third armored figure came from the far end of the control room. “What ’cha want, doc?”
“Harper is relieved from watch. You take over as engineer-of-the-watch. Send for the standby engineer.”
“Very well.” His voice and manner were phlegmatic, as he accepted the situation without comment. The atomic engineer whom he had just relieved glanced from one to the other, then carefully replaced the wrench in its rack.
“Just as you say, Doctor Silard—but send for your relief, too. I shall demand an immediate hearing!” Harper swept indignantly out, his lead-sheathed boots clumping on the floorplates.
Doctor Silard waited unhappily for the ensuing twenty minutes until his own relief arrived. Perhaps he had been hasty. Maybe he was wrong in thinking that Harper had at last broken under the strain of tending the most dangerous machine in the world—the atomic breeder plant. But if he had made a mistake, it had to be on the safe side—slips must not happen in this business; not when a slip might result in atomic detonation of nearly ten tons of uranium-238, U-235, and plutonium.
He tried to visualize what that would mean, and failed. He had been told that uranium was potentially twenty million times as explosive as T.N.T. The figure was meaningless that way. He thought of the pile instead as a hundred million tons of high explosive, or as a thousand Hiroshimas. It still did not mean anything. He had once seen an A-bomb dropped, when he had been serving as a temperament analyst for the Air Forces. He could not imagine the explosion of a thousand such bombs; his brain balked.
Perhaps these atomic engineers could. Perhaps, with their greater mathematical ability and closer comprehension of what actually went on inside the nuclear fission chamber, they had some vivid glimpse of the mind-shattering horror locked up beyond that shield. If so, no wonder they tended to blow up—
He sighed. Erickson looked away from the controls of the linear resonant accelerator on which he had been making some adjustment. “What’s the trouble, doc?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry I had to relieve Harper.”
Silard could feel the shrewd glance of the big Scandinavian. “Not getting the jitters
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