Конец вечности
Cub
SeniorComputerTwissellcalledAndrewHarlantohisofficethenextday.
Hesaid,"HowwouldyouliketogooutonanM.N.C.,boy?"
Itwasalmosttooapposite.AllthatmorningHarlanhadbeenregrettinghiscowardlydisclaimerofpersonalinvolvementintheTechnician’swork;hischildishcryof:Ihaven’tdoneanythingwrongyet,sodon’tblameme.
ItamountedtoanadmissionthattherewassomethingwrongaboutaTechnician’swork,andthathehimselfwasblamelessonlybecausehewastoonewatthegametohavehadtimetobeacriminal.
Hewelcomedthechancetokillthatexcusenow.Itwouldbealmostapenance.HecouldsaytoCooper:Yes,becauseofsomethingIhavedone,thismanymillionsofpeoplearenewpersonalities,butitwasnecessaryandIamproudtohavebeenthecause.
SoHarlansaidjoyfully,"I’mready,sir."
"Good.Good.You’llbegladtoknow,boy,"(apuff,andthecigarettetipglowedbrilliantly)"thateveryoneofyouranalysescheckedoutwithhigh-orderaccuracy."
"Thankyou,sir."(Theywereanalysesnow,thoughtHarlan,notguesses.)
"You’vegotatalent.Quiteatouch,boy.Ilookforgreatthings.Andwecanbeginwiththisone,223rd.Yourstatementthatajammedvehicleclutchwouldsupplythenecessaryforkwithoutundesirablesideeffectsisperfectlycorrect.Willyoujamit?"
"Yes,sir."
ThatwasHarlan’strueinitiationintoTechnicianhood.Afterthathewasmorethanjustamanwitharose-redbadge.HehadhandledReality.
