Day of the Moron | Page 7

the orals. That way he can spend the rest of his time on duty here for the union,
and will know in advance what the test is like." He turned to Koffler. "But understand
this. You keep your mouth out of it. If you see anything that looks objectionable, make a
note of it, but don't try to interfere."

The written tests, done on printed forms, required about twenty minutes. Melroy watched
the process of oral testing and personal interviewing for a while, then picked up a big
flashlight and dropped it into his overcoat pocket, preparatory to going out to inspect
some equipment that had been assembled outside the reactor area and brought in. As he
went out, Koffler was straddling a chair, glowering at Doris Rives and making occasional
ostentatious notes on a pad.
* * * * *
For about an hour, he poked around the newly assembled apparatus, checking the wiring,
and peering into it. When he returned to the temporary office, the oral testing was still
going on; Koffler was still on duty as watcher for the union, but the sport had evidently
palled on him, for he was now studying a comic book.
Melroy left the reactor area and returned to the office in the converted area. During the
midafternoon, somebody named Leighton called him from the Atomic Power Authority
executive office, wanting to know what was the trouble between him and the I.F.A.W.
and saying that a protest against his alleged high-handed and arbitrary conduct had been
received from the union.
Melroy explained, at length. He finished: "You people have twenty Stuart tanks, and a
couple of thousand soldiers and cops and undercover-men, here, guarding against
sabotage. Don't you realize that a workman who makes stupid or careless or impulsive
mistakes is just as dangerous to the plant as any saboteur? If somebody shoots you
through the head, it doesn't matter whether he planned to murder you for a year or just
didn't know the gun was loaded; you're as dead one way as the other. I should think you'd
thank me for trying to eliminate a serious source of danger."
"Now, don't misunderstand my position, Mr. Melroy," the other man hastened to say. "I
sympathize with your attitude, entirely. But these people are going to make trouble."
"If they do, it'll be my trouble. I'm under contract to install this cybernetic system for you;
you aren't responsible for my labor policy," Melroy replied. "Oh, have you had much to
do with this man Crandall, yourself?"
"Have I had--!" Leighton sputtered for a moment. "I'm in charge of personnel, here; that
makes me his top-priority target, all the time."
"Well, what sort of a character is he, anyhow? When I contracted with the I.F.A.W., my
lawyer and their lawyer handled everything; I never even met him."
"Well--He has his job to do, the same as I have," Leighton said. "He does it
conscientiously. But it's like this--anything a workman tells him is the truth, and anything
an employer tells him is a dirty lie. Until proven differently, of course, but that takes a lot
of doing. And he goes off half-cocked a lot of times. He doesn't stop to analyze situations
very closely."
"That's what I was afraid of. Well, you tell him you don't have any control over my labor

relations. Tell him to bring his gripes to me."
* * * * *
At sixteen-thirty, Doris Rives came in, finding him still at his desk.
"I have the written tests all finished, and I have about twenty of the tests and interviews
completed," she said. "I'll have to evaluate the results, though. I wonder if there's a vacant
desk around here, anywhere, and a record player."
"Yes, sure. Ask Joan to fix you up; she'll find a place for you to work. And if you're
going to be working late, I'll order some dinner for you from the cafeteria. I'm going to be
here all evening, myself."
Sid Keating came in, a short while later, peeling out of his overcoat, jacket and shoulder
holster.
"I don't think they got everything out of that reactor," he said. "Radioactivity's still almost
active-normal--about eight hundred REM's--and the temperature's away up, too. That isn't
lingering radiation; that's prompt radiation."
"Radioactivity hasn't dropped since morning; I'd think so, too," Melroy said. "What are
they getting on the breakdown counter?"
"Mostly neutrons and alpha-particles. I talked to Fred Hausinger, the maintenance boss;
he doesn't like it, either."
"Well, I'm no nuclear physicist," Melroy disclaimed, "but all that alpha stuff looks like a
big chunk of Pu-239 left inside. What's Fred doing about it?"
"Oh, poking around inside the reactor with telemetered scanners and remote-control
equipment. When I left, he had a gang pulling out graphite blocks with RC-tongs. We