"That's all." Morely flicked the disconnect switch.
He got up, strode around the office, then consulted his watch. There
would be time for a cup of coffee before Bond arrived. Time for a cup of
coffee, and time for the employees in Sector Fourteen to scurry about,
getting their quarters in shape for an inspection. They would have no
way of knowing which quarters were to be checked, and all would be put
in order.
He smiled. It was a good way, he thought, to insure that there would be
no sloppiness in the homes of his people. And it certainly saved a lot
of inspection time and a lot of direct contact.
He went out of the office, and walked slowly down to the snack bar,
where he took his time over coffee, looking critically at the neat
counter and about the room as he drank.
The counter girls busied themselves cleaning up imaginary spots on the
plastic counter and on their equipment, casting occasional, apprehensive
glances at him. Finally, he set his cup down, looked at the clock over
the counter, and walked out.
Bond was waiting in the office. Morely examined the younger man,
carefully appraising his appearance. The sector leader, he saw, was
properly attired. The neat uniform looked as if freshly taken from the
tailor shop. The man stepped forward alertly, to halt at the correct
distance before his superior.
"Good evening, sir. My heli is on the roof."
"Very good." Morely nodded shortly and took his notebook from his
pocket. "We'll go to Building Seven Twenty-three."
He turned and walked toward the self-service elevator. Bond hurried a
little to open the door for him.
* * * * *
Bond eased the helicopter neatly through the entry slot and on down into
one of the empty visitor spaces in the landing area at Block 1022. The
two men walked across the areaway to an entrance.
As they went up the short flight of stairs into the hall, Morely took
careful notice of the building. The mosaic tile of the stairs and floor
gleamed from a recent scrubbing. The plastic and metal handrails were
spotless. He looked briefly at his subordinate, then motioned toward the
door at their right.
"This one," he ordered.
Bond touched the call button and they waited.
From inside the apartment, there was a slight rustle of motion, then the
door opened and a man stood before them. For an instant, he looked
startled, then he straightened.
"Paul Graham, sir," he announced. "Apartment 7A is ready for
inspection." He stepped back.
Morely looked him over critically, saw nothing that warranted criticism,
and went inside, followed by Bond.
Cursorily, the district leader let his gaze wander about the apartment.
The kitchen at his left, he saw, was in perfect order, everything being
in place and obviously clean. He went to the range and motioned with his
head.
"Pull the drip pan," he ordered.
Graham came forward and pulled a flat sheet from the range, then opened
an access door at the front of the stove.
Morely peered inside, then thrust a hand in. For a moment, he groped
around, then he pulled his hand out and looked at it. It was clean. He
sniffed at his fingers, then turned away.
"You may replace the pan, Fellow." He went into the living room, noting
that the woman and three children were neat and in the proper attitudes
of attention. One of the children was looking at him, wide-eyed. He saw
that the child was clean and apparently healthy.
In addition to the usual chairs, table, and divan, there were some
bookcases which formed a small alcove around a combination desk and
drawing table. Morely circled the bookcases, to stand before the desk.
"What's this?" he demanded. He turned to a bookcase, to examine the
titles.
Most of the books were engineering texts and reference works. There
were some standard works of philosophy and a few on psychology. None of
the titles seemed to be actually objectionable.
"I--" Graham started to speak, but Morely silenced him with an upraised
hand.
"Later," he said coldly. "Bond, has this been reported to you, and have
you investigated?"
Bond nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "Graham is a design engineer, sir, and
has been granted permission to do some research in his quarters.
"He's commercially employed, sir, and it was a routine matter. His
employer says he has been keeping his production quotas, no alteration
to the apartment has been made, and no community property has been
defaced. I'm told that several of Graham's designs have been of value in
his plant. I didn't think--"
"I see you didn't. What is this man working on now?"
"A new type of communicator, sir. I don't know all the details."
[Illustration]
"Get them, Bond. Get them all, and give me a full report on his project
and its progress tomorrow. Since this work is being done during time
when the man is not working for his employer, he's using community time
and the community becomes vitally interested in his results." Morely
paused, looking at the bookcase again.
"And, while we are on the subject," he added, "get me details on those
previous designs you spoke of. It's quite possible the community has not
been getting royalty payments to which it's entitled." He picked out a
book, flipping over its pages for a moment, then replaced it and looked
searchingly at Bond.
"And get me a full inventory of this man's books and any equipment he
may have." He turned on Graham.
"Do you have purchase authorization and receipts for all of this?"
"Yes, sir." Graham motioned toward the desk.
"Very well. I shan't bother with that now. An investigating team can
check that."
Morely took a final glance at the half-finished schematic on the drawing
board, then circled the bookcases again, to come out into the main room.
"We'll inspect the rest of your quarters."
* * * * *
At last, Morely left the quarters area, followed by Bond. As they
reached the helicopter, Morely turned, one hand on the door.
"Laxity, Bond, is something I don't tolerate. You should know that.
Possibly this man, Graham, is doing nothing illegal, or even irregular.
Possibly, he is not wasting community time, but I have very serious
doubts. I'll venture to say the community has a financial interest in
several of his recent designs, and I mean to find out which ones and how
much. And it's certainly an unusual situation. The man's a leadman, you
know, and could spend his time more profitably in checking on the people
he's responsible for." He slid into the seat.
"I'll concede," he continued, "that employees are to be allowed a
certain amount of recreation of their own choosing. They may have light
reading in their quarters, and they may even work on small
projects--with permission, of course. But this man seems to have gone
much farther than that. He has a small electronics factory of his own,
as well as a rather extensive library. He's obviously spending a lot of
time at his activities, and that time must come out of his community
performance. This certainly is not routine, and I can't condone your
failure to make a report on it."
"But, I--"
Morely held up a hand sternly. "Let's not have a string of excuses," he
said. "Give me a full report on the man's possessions, his history, and
the progress of whatever work he's doing in that private factory of his.
Get the details on his previous designs, too. And bring your report in
to me in the morning, personally. I shall want to determine whether to
make this new device a community project, or whether to allow it to be
offered to his employer on a community royalty agreement. And I shall
require details on his older designs for Fiscal to examine into.
Research, you should know, is a community function, not something to be
done in any set of quarters. I shall want to talk to you further when
I've gone over this matter.
"Now, get me back to the district offices. I want to get home, and
you've work to do tonight."
* * * * *
The report was a long one. Morely smiled to himself as he thought of the
time it must have taken Bond to assemble the data and to make up his
final draft. Possibly in the future, that young man would be a little
less inclined to assume too much authority, or to be too soft in his
dealings with the employee classes. The spring in his swivel chair
twanged musically as the district leader leaned back to read.
First, there was an inventory of Graham's effects. It was a lengthy
list, followed by a certification by a security inspector that all of
the equipment inventoried was covered by authorizations and receipts
held by Graham, and that none of the books and equipment were of
improper nature for possession by a member of the employee classes.
Morely grunted and tossed that section aside.
There was a detailed history of Graham's activities, so far as known to
Security. Morely scanned through it hurriedly. There was nothing here of
an unusual nature.
Graham had been graduated from one of the large technical colleges
during the early nineties. Morely noted that it was one of those schools
which had been later closed as a result of one of the post-war
investigations.
The subject had been employed by Consolidated Electronics as a junior
engineer, and had designed several improvements for Consolidated's
products. There was a record of promotions and a few awards. He had held
a few patents, which had been taken over by the Central Coördination
Products Division during the post-war reorganization. He had also
belonged to the now proscribed Society of Electronic Engineers, had
contributed articles to that organization's journal, and had taken an
active part in some of its chapter meetings.
During the war, he had worked on radio-controlled servos, doing
acceptable work. When the professional and trade societies and other
organizations were outlawed, he had promptly resigned from his society,
and made the required declarations. But he had been reported as
privately remarking that it was "a sad thing to see the last vestiges of
personal freedom removed."
Morely pursed his lips. Not an unusual history, he decided. Of course,
the man was completely ineligible for full citizenship--bad risk. He was
barely qualified for second-class citizenship, his obvious ability being
the only qualifying factor. Unlike many, he had no record of any effort
to shirk duty, or do economic damage during the critical period. The
district leader tossed the dossier aside and picked up the report on
Graham's present activities.
There were a series of complex schematics, and several machine drawings
which he shuffled to the back of his report. Those could be interpreted
later, if necessary. He was interested in the description of function.
The device Graham was working on was described as a communicator which
operated by direct mind-to-mind transfer. Morely sat up straighter,
reading the paragraph over again. Either this man was a true genius, who
had discovered a new principle, or he was completely a crackpot.
"Telepathy!"
Morely snorted and went over to the descriptions of the device, reading
carefully. Finally, he read the comments of a senior engineer, who
cautiously admitted that the circuits involved, though highly
unconventional, were not of a type to cause spurious radiation, or to
interfere with normal communication in any way.
The engineer also noted that it was possible that the device might be
capable of radiation effects outside of the electromagnetic spectrum,
and that the power device was capable of integration into standard
equipment--in fact, might be well worth adoption. He carefully declined,
however, to give any definite opinion without an actual model to run
tests on. And he added the comment that the first model was as yet
incomplete.
Morely tossed the last sheet to his desk and leaned forward, tapping
idly on the dull-finished plastic. Finally, he touched his call button
and waited till the clerk came in.
"You may send Mr. Bond in now," he directed.
He picked up the section of the report dealing with Graham's past
designs, and started scanning it. He would have the Fiscal chief go over
this and set up the necessary royalty agreements with Consolidated. Some
of them might generate worth-while amounts of funds.
* * * * *
He made no sign of recognition or awareness when Bond entered the
office, but continued with his reading. At last, he pulled a notepad to
him, wrote a brief indorsement to the Fiscal chief, and clipped it to
the part of the report dealing with Graham's older designs. He replaced
his pen in its stand and leaned back, to stare at his junior, who stood
at rigid attention.
"Yes?"
"Sector Leader Bond, sir, reporting as ordered." Bond saluted.
Negligently, Merely returned the salute, then picked up Bond's report.
"I have gone through this, Bond," he announced. "Very interesting. And
you thought it too unimportant to report on before?"
"I didn't want to bother you with some idle fantasy, sir. Until the
man's experiments showed definite results of some sort, I--"
"And then, you hoped to spring a completed device on me? Take credit for
it yourself, eh?"
"Not at all, sir. I--"
Morely raised a hand. "Never mind. I don't need any kind of aid to read
your intentions. They're quite plain, I see. It would have been quite a
credit to you, wouldn't it?
"'Look what I worked out, with a little, minor help from one of the
employees in my sector.'
"But I've seen that line worked before, Bond, and worked smoothly. You
don't catch the Old Man napping so easily as that." He paused.
"Of course we don't know whether or not this device is going to be of
any real use. But we do know that this man, Graham, has developed one
thing which can be profitably incorporated into conventional equipment.
That power source of his appears to be quite practical, and we'll adopt
it. Offer it to the man's employer, subject to community royalty. And
see if you can get Graham a little time off work in compensation. Then,
keep a close watch on his work on the rest of his device. He'll probably
use his time off to work on it--at least, he'll be a lot better off if
he does.
"I want frequent reports on his progress--daily reports, if any
significant developments occur. And I want a model of that device as
soon as it's developed and has had preliminary tests. If it works, it
might be valuable for community defense." He waved a hand.
"That's all."
Bond turned to go, and almost got to the door before Morely called him
back.
"Oh, one more thing, Bond. Keep a closer watch on the rest of your
people. If any more of them decide to do extra work of any unusual
nature, I shall expect an immediate report in full. Don't fail me again.
Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." Bond saluted again and made his escape.
Morely watched him disappear, then turned to his communicator. "Get me
Field Leader Denton," he ordered.
The pause was slight, then the face of a middle-aged man appeared in the
viewsphere.
"Denton," said the district leader, "I want you to keep closer watch on
your sector men. Last night I spot-checked Bond, in Fourteen, and I
found an irregularity. I'll expect you to endorse the report back, and
I'll expect you to tighten down. Keep an especially close eye on this
man, Bond."