The turbocar swiped an embankment at ninety miles an hour; the result
was, of course, inevitable. It was a magnificent crash, and the driver
was thrown clear at the end of it for a distance of 50 feet.
Charles looked at the body and got his bright idea.
* * * * *
The trouble had started a couple of weeks before, when Edwin, Charles'
laboratory co-ordinator, had called him into his office just before
Charles was due to leave for home. It was a distinct breach of
etiquette to cause a worker to arrive home at any time besides his
accustomed hour, so Charles knew whatever Edwin wanted must be
important. He sat down opposite the Co-ordinator and assumed a
politely questioning look.
"Charles, you know I wouldn't call you here at this hour if it wasn't
important," Edwin said, pursing his lips.
"Of course not, sir," Charles replied, waiting.
"The fact of the matter is, we are in dire straits." Edwin stared at
the other ominously. "As you well know, the Textile Industry, like
every other business firm in the world, has functioned entirely
without economic troubles of any sort for the past fifty years."
"Well, of course, sir...."
"And you are also well aware of what would be the results of any
financial deviation in any of these firms, particularly in a major
industry such as our own."
"Certainly, sir. Ours is a delicately balanced economic system. Any
slight change in the economic status of one firm would...."
"Exactly!" Edwin leaned across the desk and glared at him. "I have
just come from a Board of Directors meeting. And it was made known to
us that during the past three weeks our margin of profit has fallen
off by three tenths of a per cent!"
Charles' face turned pasty white. He swallowed and took a deep breath.
"Will that information be made public, sir?"
"Naturally not! But we aren't sure just how long we can keep it a
secret! The fact of the matter is, the IBM says that our profit margin
will continue to spiral downward at a gradually increasing rate unless
some drastic change occurs in our production set-up!"
Edwin leaned back and clasped his hands, composing himself. "The
precise reasons for the existence of the situation are quite obscure.
However, the IBM has informed us that the problem can be remedied if
we make a particular change in our production system, and it has
informed us as to the nature of that change."
He stood up and placed a finger on a capacitance switch. A panel in
the Wall slid back to reveal six sales charts. There were two each
marked _Winter_, _Summer_ and _Spring-Fall_. Three were designated
_marlons_, and three _marilyns_. Each of them showed a red line rising
steeply on the left, levelling out to a perfectly straight bar all the
way across, then dipping sharply again.
"Look here," Edwin said. "These are the sales charts for our six
suits. As you know, we make three different types for marlons, and
three for marilyns. Hot-weather, cold-weather, and medium-weather.
Each suit is designed to last a carefully calculated length of time,
and each consumer need only buy three suits a year. They are exactly
alike except for slight size differences, and because of elastic
fabrics these differences are held to a minimum. With this system the
Textile Industry attained the ultimate in Standardization, the
ultimate in efficiency."
Charles rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Has the IBM suggested any
alternative to our system, any possible change?"
Edwin sat down again, folded his arms on the desk, and scowled.
"That's where you come in! The IBM informs us that there is only one
possible way to stabilize our economy, to raise our profit margin to
its former level--and that is by further standardization!"
Charles raised his eyebrows. "You mean a sexless wardrobe, sir? That's
been tried...."
"No, that's _not_ what I mean!" Edwin snapped. "What I mean is an
_all-weather suit_!"
Charles swallowed audibly at that and said nothing.
"You can see the advantages, of course," Edwin explained. "We'd need
only to manufacture two types of suit, marlon and marilyn. Since we'd
never have to adjust our factories, we could drop a lot of unnecessary
technicians, and with the further standardization, manufacturing would
be faster and cheaper--a _lot_ cheaper. The consumer would only
purchase one suit a year, but we could make up for that by raising the
prices somewhat."
Charles finally got a word in. "But, _sir_! An all-weather suit? How
can we design a suit that will be equally comfortable in the middle of
a Florida heat-wave or a New England snowstorm?"
"How? _How?_" Edwin's voice raised and his finger pointed. "_You're_
the research chemist, Charles! You're supposed to tell _me_ how!"
"Sir? I...."
"Listen!" Edwin poked the other in the chest. "I assume you know what
will happen to Society if the Textile Industry becomes economically
unstable?"
"Well, yes sir, but...."
"Then I assume you realize that the Board of Directors will stop at
nothing to preserve the status quo! And since you happen to be our
chief industrial chemist, the entire problem lands in your lap! Now,
we want to know how to make an all-weather suit, and we want to know
_fast_. Therefore, Charles, you're going to tell us how to do it!
Understand?"