"Greatest thrill in the world. My father had an orchard in
Kennebunkport. Apples by the million. Green apples. Sweet apples.
Delicious. Spy. Baldwin." He sighed. "Something's gone out of our way of
life, Ralph."
_Why, he's just an old dear_, thought Colihan. He looked at the boss
with new sympathy.
"Funny thing about apples. My father used to keep 'em in barrels down in
the basement. He used to say to me, 'Andrew,' he'd say, 'don't never put
a sour apple in one of these barrels. 'Cause just one sour apple can
spoil the whole derned lot.'" The boss looked at Colihan and took a big
noisy bite.
Colihan smiled inanely. Was Moss making some kind of point?
"Well, we can't sit around all day and reminisce, eh, Ralph? Much as I
enjoy it. But we got a business to run, don't we?"
"Yes, sir," said the Personnel Manager.
"Mighty big business, too. How's your side of it, Ralph? Old
Personnelovac hummin' along nicely?"
"Yes, sir," said Colihan, wondering if he should voice his fears about
the Brain.
"Marvelous machine, that. Most marvelous of 'em all, if you ask me.
Sizes up a man beautifully. And best of all, it's one hundred percent
_honest_. That's a mighty important quality, Ralph."
* * * * *
Colihan was getting worried. The boss's conversation was just a little
too folksy for his liking.
"Yes, sir, a mighty fine quality. My father used to say: 'Andrew, an
honest man can always look you in the eyes.'"
Colihan stared uncomprehendingly. He realized that Moss had stopped
talking, so he looked him squarely in the eyes and said: "He must have
been a fine man, your father."
"He was honest," said Moss. "I'll say that for him. He was honest as
they come. Did you ever hear of Dimaggio?"
"It sounds familiar--"
"It should. Dimaggio was a legendary figure. He took a lantern and went
out into the world looking for an honest man. And do you know
something? He couldn't find one. You know, Ralph, sometimes _I_ feel
like Dimaggio."
Colihan gulped.
"And do you know why? Because sometimes I see a thing like _this_--" the
boss's hand reached into the desk and came out with a thick bundle of
pink cards--"and I wonder if there's an honest man left in the world."
* * * * *
He put the cards in front of Colihan.
"Now, sir," said Moss. "Let's talk a little business. These cards are
all pink. That means dismissal, right? That's twenty-four people fired
in the last month, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir," said Colihan unhappily.
"And how many cards went through the Personnelovac this month?"
"Forty."
"So that's twenty-four out of forty. A batting average of--" The boss's
brow puckered. "Well. Never mind. But that's quite an unusual record,
wouldn't you say so?"
"Yes, sir, but--"
"_So_ unusual that it would call for immediate ACTION, wouldn't it?" The
President's face was now stormy.
"Yes, sir. But I checked the Brain--"
"Did you, Ralph?"
"Yes, sir. And the Maintainovac said it was perfect. There's nothing
wrong with it."
"_Nothing_ wrong? You call twenty-four firings out of forty _nothing_?"
The old man stood up, still holding the core of his apple.
"Well, I don't understand it either, Mr. Moss." Colihan felt dew on his
forehead. "Nothing seems to satisfy the Brain anymore. It seems to
develop higher and higher standards, or something. Why, I'm not sure it
wouldn't even fire--"
"WHO?" said Moss thunderously. "WHO wouldn't it even fire?"
The thunder hit Colihan squarely. He swallowed hard, and then managed to
say:
"Anybody, sir. Me, for instance."
The President's face suddenly relaxed.
"I'm no tyrant, my boy. You know that. I'm just doing a job, that's
all."
"Of course, sir--"
"Well, all I want you to do is keep your eye on things. It could be a
coincidence of course. That's the _logical_ explanation." He narrowed
his eyes. "What do _you_ think, Ralph?"
"Me, sir?" said Ralph, wide-eyed. "I don't _think_, sir. I ACT, sir!"
"Good boy!" The boss chuckled and clapped his hand on Colihan's
shoulder. Moss was momentarily satisfied.
* * * * *
The Personnelovac burped.
Colihan picked up the card with a groan. It was pink.
He walked over to the Action Chute and dropped it inside. As it
fluttered down below, Colihan shook his head sadly. "Thirty-one," he
said.
He placed the next personnel record into the Information chamber. He
flipped the lever, and the Personnelovac, now hot with usage, winked,
chittered, chortled, and chuckled with amazing speed. The burp was
almost joyful as the card popped out. But Colihan's face was far from
joyful as he picked it up.
Pink.
"Thirty-two," he said.
The next card was from Grimswitch's department. It was Subject #52098.
The number was familiar. Colihan decided to check the file.
"Sam Gilchrist," he said. "_Couldn't_ be anything wrong with Sam. Why,
he's a blinkin' _genius_!"
Flip. Wink. Chitter. Chortle. Chuckle. BURP!
Pink.
"Poor Sam!" said Colihan.
He fed the other records through quickly.
Pink.
Pink.