"That's what I said. Bring a set of approval forms, too."
Pehrson managed to get out with a placid mask on his face, but it broke
as soon as he reached the safety of his own office. It wasn't possible
that Baker was serious! The check that went out that afternoon convinced
him it was so.
When Pehrson left the office, Baker got up and sauntered to the window,
looking out over the smoke-gray buildings of Washington. The Index, he
smiled, remembering it. Five years he and Pehrson had worked on that. It
had seemed like quite a monumental achievement when they considered it
finished. It had never been really finished, of course. Continuous
additions and modifications were being made. But they had been very
proud of it.
Baker wondered now, however, if they had not been very shortsighted in
their application of the Index. He sensed, stirring in the back of his
mind, not fully defined, possibilities that had never appeared to him
before.
His speculations were interrupted by Doris. She spoke on the interphone,
still in the sweetly sympathetic tone she had adopted for her greetings
that morning. Baker suspected this would last at least a full week.
* * * * *
"Dr. Wily is on the phone. He would like to know if you'd mind his
coming in this afternoon. Shall I make an appointment or would you
rather postpone these interviews for a few days? Dr. Wily would
understand, of course."
"Tell him to come on up whenever he's ready," said Baker. "I'm not doing
much today."
President George H. Wily, Ph. D., D.Sc., of Great Eastern University.
Wily was one of his best customers.
Baker guessed that he had given Wily somewhere around twelve or thirteen
million dollars over the past decade. He didn't know exactly what Wily
had done with all of it, but one didn't question Great Eastern's use of
its funds. Certainly only the most benevolent use would be made of the
money.
Baker reflected on his associations with Wily. His satisfaction had been
unmeasurable in those exquisite moments when he had had the pleasure of
handing Wily a check for two or three million dollars at a time. In
turn, Wily had invited him to the great, commemorative banquets of Great
Eastern. He had presented Baker to the Alumni and extolled the
magnificent work Baker was doing in the advancement of the cause of
Science. It had been a very pleasant association for both of them.
The door opened and Doris ushered Wily into the room. He came forward
with outstretched hands. "My dear Baker! Your secretary said you had no
objection to my coming up immediately, so I took advantage of it. I
didn't hear about your terrible accident until yesterday. It's so good
to know that you were not more seriously hurt."
"Thanks," said Baker. "It wasn't very bad. Come and sit down."
Wily was a rather large, beetle-shaped man. He affected a small, graying
beard that sometimes had tobacco ashes in it.
"Terrible loss to the cause of Science if your accident had been more
serious," Wily was saying. "I don't know of anyone who occupies a more
critical position in our nation's scientific advance than you do."
This was what had made him feel safe, secure, able to cope with the
problems of the world, Baker reflected. Wily represented Authority, the
highest possible Authority in the existing scientific culture.
But it had worked both ways, too. Baker had supplied a similar
counterpart for Wily. His degrees matched Wily's own. He represented
both Science and Government. The gift of a million dollars expressed
confidence on the part of the Government that Wily was on the right
track, that his activity was approved.
A sort of mutual admiration society, Baker thought.
"I suppose you are interested in the progress on your application for
renewal of Great Eastern's grants," said Baker.
Wily waved the subject away with an emphatic gesture. "Not business
today! I simply dropped in for a friendly chat after learning of your
accident. Of course, if there is something to report, I wouldn't mind
hearing it. I presume, however, the processing is following the usual
routine."
"Not quite," said Baker slowly. "An increasing flood of applications is
coming in, and I'm finding it necessary to adopt new processing methods
to cope with the problem."
"I can understand that," said Wily. "And one of the things I have always
admired most about your office is your ability to prevent wastage of
funds by nonqualified people. Qualifications in the scientific world are
becoming tighter every day. You have no idea how difficult it is to get
people with adequate backgrounds today. Men of stature and authority
seem to be getting rarer all the time. At any rate, I'm sure we are
agreed that only the intellectual elite must be given access to these
funds of your Bureau, which are limited at best."
Baker continued to regard Wily across the desk for a long moment. Wily
was one of them, he thought. One of the most heavily infected of all.
Surround yourself with Authority. Fold it about you like a shell. Never
step beyond the boundaries set by Authority. This was George H. Wily,
President of Great Eastern University. This was a man stricken by the
Great Gray Plague.
"I need a report," said Baker. "For our new program of screening I need
a report of past performance under our grants. The last two years would
be sufficient, I think, from Great Eastern."
Wily was disturbed. He frowned and hesitated. "I'm sure we could supply
such a report," he said finally. "There's never been any question--"
"No question at all," said Baker. "I just need to tally up the
achievements made under recent grants. I shall also require some new
information for the Index. I'll send forms as soon as they're ready."
"We'll be more than glad to co-operate," said Wily. "It's just that
concrete achievement in a research program is sometimes hard to pin
point, you know. So many intangibles."
"I know," said Baker.
When Wily was gone, Baker continued sitting at his desk for a long time.
He wished fervently that he could talk with Sam Atkins for just five
minutes now. And he hoped Sam hadn't gotten too blistered by his mentors
when he returned home after fluffing the inquiry he was sent out on.
There was no chance, of course, that Baker would ever be able to talk
with Sam again. That one fortuitous encounter would have to do for a
lifetime. But Sam's great cryptic statement was slowly beginning to make
sense: When you cease to be fearful of Authority, you become Authority.
Neither Baker or Wily, or any of the members of Wily's lock-step staff
were Authority. Rather, they all gave obeisance to the intangible
Authority of Science, and stood together as self-appointed vicars of
that Authority, demanding penance for the slightest blasphemy against
it. And each one stood in living terror of such censure.
The same ghost haunted the halls of Government. The smallest civil
servant, in his meanest incivility, could invoke the same reverence for
that unseen mantle of Authority that rested, however falsely, on his
thin shoulders.
The ghost existed in but one place, the minds of the victims of the
Plague. William Baker had ceased to recognize or give obeisance to it.
He was beginning to understand the meaning of Sam Atkins' words.
He was quite sure the grants to Great Eastern were going to diminish
severely.
* * * * *
Within six months, the output from Clearwater College was phenomenal.
The only string that Baker had attached to his grants was the provision
that the National Bureau of Scientific Development be granted the
privilege of announcing all new inventions, discoveries, and significant
reports. This worked to the advantage of both parties. It gave the
college the prestige of association in the press with the powerful
Government agency, and it gave Baker the association with a prominent
scientific discovery.
During the first month of operation under the grant, Fenwick appointed a
half dozen "uneducated" professors to his physical science staff. These
were located with Baker's help because they had previously applied to
NBSD for assistance.
The announcement of the developments of the projects of these men was a
kind of unearned windfall for both Baker and Fenwick because most of the
work had already been done in garages and basements. But no one objected
that it gave both Clearwater and NBSD a substantial boost in the public
consciousness.
During this period, Baker found three other small colleges of almost
equal caliber with Clearwater. He made substantial grants to all of them
and watched their staffs grow in number and quality of background that
would have shocked George Wily into apoplexy. Baker's announcements of
substantial scientific gains became the subject of weekly press
conferences.
And also, during this time, he lowered the ax on Great Eastern and two
other giants whose applications were pending. He cut them to twenty per
cent of what they were asking. A dozen of the largest industrial firms
were accorded similar treatment.
Through all this, Pehrson moved like a man in a nightmare. His first
impulse had been to resign. His second was to report the gross
mismanagement of NBSD to some appropriate congressman. Before he did
either of these things the reports began to come in from Clearwater and
other obscure points.
Pehrson was a man in whom allegiance was easily swayed. His loyalty was
only for the top man of any hierarchy, and he suddenly began to regard
Baker with an amazed incredulity. It seemed akin to witchcraft to be
able to pull out works of near genius from the dross material Baker had
been supporting with his grants. Pehrson wasn't quite sure how it had
been done although he had been present throughout the whole process. He
only knew that Baker had developed a kind of prescience that was nothing
short of miraculous, and from now on he was strictly a Baker man.
Baker was happy with this outcome. The problem of Pehrson had been a
bothersome one. Civil Service regulations forbade his displacement.
Baker had been undecided how to deal with him. With Pehrson's acceptance
of the new methods, the entire staff swung behind Baker, and the
previous grumblings and complaints finally ceased. He stood on top in
his own office, at least, Baker reflected.
George H. Wily was not happy, however. He waited two full days after
receiving the announcement of NBSD's grant for the coming year. He
consulted with his Board of Regents and then took a night plane down to
Washington to see Baker.
He was coldly formal as he entered Baker's office. Baker shook his hand
warmly and invited him to sit down.
"I was hoping you'd drop in again when you came to town," said Baker. "I
was sorry we had to ask you for so much new information, but I
appreciate your prompt response."
Wily's eyes were frosty. "Is that why you gave us only two hundred
thousand?" he asked.
Baker spread his hands. "I explained when you were here last that we
were getting a flood of applications. We have been forced to distribute
the money much more broadly than in other years. There is only so much
to go around, you know."
"There is just as much as you've ever had," snapped Wily. "I've checked
on your overall appropriation. And there is no increase in qualified
applicants. There is a decrease, if anything.
"I've done a little checking on the grants you've made, Baker. I'd like
to see you defend your appropriation for that miserable little school
called Clearwater College. I made a detailed study of their staff. They
haven't a single qualified man. Not one with a background any better
than that of your elevator operator!"
Baker looked up at the ceiling. "I remember an elevator man who became
quite a first rate scientist."