[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astounding Science-Fiction, September 1946.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The man behind the large, polished desk nodded as Peter Wright entered.
"Wright," he said, "the Oak Tool Works will require an adjuster. You're
new in this office, but I've been given to understand that you have
experience, are willing, intelligent, and observing. The Oak Tool Works
has a special contract, and it is always taken care of by Mr. Delinge
who happens to be having a vacation in an unaccessible spot. Therefore,
you will pinch-hit for him."
"I understand."
The president of Interplanetary Industrial Insurance nodded.
"Good," he said. "You are to be at their Charles Street plant at eight
o'clock tonight. They are to have an accident then."
Peter Wright nodded. He turned to go, his head mulling over the myriad
of questions used by the average insurance adjuster. The questions
designed to uncover any possible fraud. Those designed to place the
full blame of the mishap, to ascertain whether it were covered by the
existing contract, to determine the exact and precise time of the
accident--
"What?" he yelled, turning back to the executive.
The president of I.I.I. nodded wearily.
"I heard you right?" asked Peter incredulously.
Edwin Porter nodded.
"But look, sir. An accident, by definition, is an unforeseen incident,
which by common usage has come to be accepted as misfortunate,
although the term 'accident' may correctly be applied to--"
"Wright, after you have been to the Oak Tool Works, you will become
violently anti-semantic."
"But look, sir. If this accident is forecast with certainty, why can't
it be averted?"
"Because it has happened already."
"But you said eight o'clock."
"I did," said Porter. "And I mean it."
"But ... but it is now about three-thirty in the afternoon. At eight
o'clock this evening there is to be an accident that has happened
already. The Oak Tool Works is in this same time-zone; they're running
on Central Standard Time, too. So far as I know, the Oak Tool Works is
not manufacturing time machines, are they?"
Porter grinned despite his weariness. "No, Oak, is not manufacturing
time machines."
"I am still in gross ignorance. If anybody is capable of truly
predicting the future on the basis of ten percent accuracy, he'd put
the insurance companies out of business--unless they hired him."
"The future, in some senses, can be predicted," said Porter.
"Only on a statistical basis," answered Wright. "The prediction that
tomorrow will arrive at precisely such and such an instant is a
prediction based upon the statistical experience gained by several
thousand years. So is the prediction of what will happen when sulphuric
acid and potassium nitrate are mixed. But an accident, sir, is
unpredictable by definition. Therefore he who can predict an accident
is a true prognosticator who needs no statistical experience to bolster
up his forecasting."
"Wright, this argument gets nowhere. It, incidentally, is why Delinge
always handled the Oak contract. He knew, and there was never an
argument. No, I'll tell you no more, Wright. You'll be incredulous
anyway until you've seen it in person. Eventually, you'll understand."
"I doubt it," replied Peter. "Seems to me that there are a couple of
very obvious factors. One, if an accident can be predicted, it can also
be avoided. Two, if such an accident is foreseen and nothing is done
about trying to avert it, then it is a matter of gross negligence and
the contract may be voided on those grounds."
"With but one exception to your statements, I agree," said Porter. "The
accident that will take place at eight o'clock has already happened."
"What you really mean is," said Peter Wright, more by way of question
than by statement, "is that the accident has occurred but will not
become evident until eight?"
"I'd hate to try to explain it in a few words. Let us try by analogy.
A man atop of the mountain sees an avalanche start toward a railroad
track. The avalanche takes out the track, preventing a meeting between
two emissaries on a vital question. The vital question is not settled,
and two countries go to war. In the war, one country discovers a
means of nullifying gravity, which after the war is used to start
interplanetary travel. Several years after interplanetary travel
starts, the rare metals are discovered in plenty and the cost of
shipping is such that the monetary system fails and the system enters a
trying period of depression. Now, could you, a man suffering because of
the depression, go back and turn aside the avalanche?"
"No, but I fail to see the connection."
"There isn't any, really. In that case the depression was due to
a concatenation of events. In the case at the Oak Tool Works, the
accident per se has already happened, but it will happen at eight
o'clock. You, Peter Wright, will witness the accident that will happen
and make a suitable settlement."
"Let's hire the prognosticator," suggested Wright.
"The laboratory is working full time on a means of utilizing the
principle in our business. To date they are not successful. For me,
I hope they are never successful. I'll stick to the statistical
experience, since true prognostication depends upon some sort of
pre-destination, which if true makes a mockery of all effort."
"All right," grumbled Peter Wright. "I'm going. What sort of accident
is ... will it be?"
"Go prepared for anything from simple abrasion to loss of limb. I doubt
the possibility of death, but--"
"I give up," groaned Wright.
"Where's Delinge?" asked the man at the Oak Tool Works.
"Vacationing on Mars, I believe."
"No offense, young man. I'd prefer him only because he has experience
in this. I'll have to spend some time in explaining to you, as a
newcomer, just what really goes on."
"What I'd like to know," said Wright, "is some means of averting these
predictable accidents."
"We've tried. We've also failed."
"Look, Mr. Simpkins, I'm of the legal profession. I am not too much of
a scientist, and I know about nothing regarding machinery--let alone
the kind of plant that makes tools that make tools. I took a course in
mech, of course, and forgot it as soon as I made my grade."
"Do you know what a blind rivet is?"
"Ah ... er ... one that can't be seen from both sides?"
"Right. A sealed tank, for instance, usually has a manhole in it for
the bucker. The bucker holds a bucking tool against the rivet while the
riveter rams it over. Similarly, bolting structures together requires
that a counterthrust or torque be applied to the nut or bolt on the
other side. Unless the structure is equipped with tapped holes, which
are expensive and cannot be made with driller beams."
"Driller beams?"
"An outgrowth of the war laboratory. What used to be called a Buck
Rogers. Doesn't really disintegrate the metal, of course, but
dissipates the binding energy between molecules and lets the metal
float away in a molecular gas, driven by its own heat energy. The beams
are sharply defined as to diameter and depth of penetration; you can
set 'em to a thousandth, though it takes cut and try methods to do
it. We don't really drill or cut metal any more. We beam-drill it and
beam-cut it. It's possible to set a screw-cutting beam, but tapping a
three-quarter inch hole is not for any construction company."
"I follow."
"Well, in setting blind screws and blind rivets, we have a method
whereby the bucker need not crawl around on the inside. Actually, we
don't use a bucker any more. The riveter does it all from one side."
"I've heard of blind rivets."
"This is not a self-setting rivet," said Simpkins. "This is a real
rivet-set system. Wait, I'll show you one."
Simpkins snapped on the inter-communicator. "Ben? Look, Ben, we've got
a new man from I.I.I. here who doesn't know the ropes. Can you bring up
a blindy?"
"Sure, but it will be dangerous."
"I'll have the signs posted."
"O.K.," answered Ben. "I'll be up in a minute."
"Look, have you got one that is about to reform?"
"I would get that kind anyway. No sense in tying up the corridor."
"O.K."
* * * * *
It was about a minute later, no more, when a knock came at the door.
Simpkins called for the knocker to enter. The door opened and a man in
overalls stuck his head in. There was a grin on his face and a smudge
of grease on his nose. "Can't, Joe," he said. "You didn't leave the
door open."
"I couldn't be going to forget that?"
Peter Wright swallowed. "Going to forget?" he gasped.
"Ben," said Simpkins in a very tired tone, "through the door glass,
huh? Let's show this man what we're up against."
"Right."
Simpkins snapped the communicator. "Tony? Get a new glass for my office
ready."
"How soon?"
"Within the hour."
"Right. I'll have it cut and waiting."
Peter shook his head, and then watched Ben enter with the riveting
tool. He looked at it, and Ben, with a grin, held it up in front of
Peter's nose.
There was a regular air ram with handle. That was standard. But the
second air ram hitched in opposition alongside of the standard job was
new. It projected out, its business end projecting in a caliper arc
beyond the standard ram, and returning to buck the standard ram. With
this tool, one man could both ram the rivet and buck it with the same
tool, and, since both hammer and anvil were driven, the effort was in
opposition mechanically, and no great effort would be required of the
operator.