"Heinlein, Robert A - Solution Unsatisfactory" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

After that Ridpath became a sort of co-chairman of Karst’s department and the equipment formerly used by the explosives department was adapted or replaced to carry on research on the deadly artificial radioactives. Manning arranged a division of labor and Karst stuck to her original problem of developing techniques for tailor-making radioactives. I think she was perfectly happy, sticking with a one-track mind to the problem at hand. I don’t know to this day whether or not Manning and Ridpath ever saw fit to discuss with her what they intended to do.
As a matter of fact, I was too busy myself to think much about it. The general elections were coming up and I was determined that Manning should have a
constituency to return to, when the emergency was over. He was not much interested,’but agreed to let his name be filed as a candidate for re-election. I was trying to work up a campaign by remote control and cursing because I could not be in the field to deal with the thousand and one emergencies as they arose.
I did the next best thing and had a private line installed to permit the campaign chairman to reach me easily. I don’t think I violated the Hatch Act, but I guess I stretched it a little. Anyhow, it turned out all right; Manning was elected as were several other members of the citizen-military that year. An attempt was made to smear him by claiming that he was taking two salaries for one job, but we squelched that with a pamphlet entitled “For Shame!” which explained that he got one salary for two jobs. That’s the Federal law in such cases and people are entitled to know it.

It was just before Christmas that Manning first admitted to me how much the implications of the KarstObre process were preying on his mind. He called me into his office over some inconsequential matter, then did not let me go. I saw that he wanted to taik.
“How much of the K-O dust do we now have on hand?” he asked suddenly.
“Just short of ten thousand units,” I replied. “I can look up the exact figures in half a moment.” A unit would take care of a thousand men, at normal dispersion. He knew the figure as well as I did, and I knew he was stalling.
We had shifted almost imperceptibly from research to manufacture, entirely on Manning’s initiative and authority. Manning had never made a specific report to the Department about it, unless he had done so orally to the Chief of Staff.
“Never mind,” he answered to my suggestion, then added, “Did you see those horses?”
“Yes,” I said briefly.
I did not want to talk about it. I like horses. We hac requisitioned six broken-down old nags, ready for th bone yard, and had used them experimentally. W knew now what the dust would do. After they had died any part of their carcasses would register on a photo graphic plate and tissue from the apices of their lung1 and from the bronchia glowed with a light of its own. Manning stood at the window, staring out at th dreary Maryland winter for a minute or two before re plying, “John, I wish that radioactivity had never beer discovered. Do you realize what that devilish stuf amounts to?”
“Well,” I said, “it’s a weapon, about like poisor gas—maybe more efficient.”
“Rats!” he said, and for a moment I thought he wa~ annoyed with me personally. “That’s about like corn paring a sixteen-inch gun with a bow and arrow We’ve got here the first weapon the world has eve~ seen against which there is no defense, none whatso ever. It’s death itself, C.O.D.
“Have you seen Ridpath’s report?” he went on. I had not. Ridpath had taken to delivering his re ports by hand to Manning personally.
“Well,” he said, “ever since we started productioi I’ve had all the talent we could spare working on th problem of a defense against the dust. Ridpath telL me and I agree with him that there is no means what soever to combat the stuff, once it’s used.”
“How about armor,” I asked, “and protective cloth ing?”
“Sure, sure,” he agreed irritatedly, “provided yoi never take it off to eat, or to drink or for any purpos whatever, until the radioaction has ceased, or you ar out of the danger zone. That is all right for laborator work; I’m talking about war.”
I considered the matter. “I still don’t see what yoi are fretting about, Colonel. If the stuff is as good as yo~ say it is, you’ve done just exactly what you set out tc
do—develop a weapon which would give the United States protection against aggressio’n.”
He swung around. “John, there are times when I think you are downright stupid!”
I said nothing. I knew him and I knew how to discount his moods. The fact that he permitted me to see his feelings is the finest compliment I have ever had. “Look at it this way,” he went on more patiently; “this dust, as a weapon, is not just simply sufficient to safeguard the United States, it amounts to a loaded gun held at the head of every man, woman, and child on the globe!”
“Well,” I answered, “what of that? It’s our secret, and we’ve got the upper hand. The United States can put a stop to this war, and any other war. We can declare a Pax Americana, and enforce it.”
“Hm-m-m—I wish it were that easy. But it won’t remain our secret; you can count on that. It doesn’t matter how successfully we guard it; all that anyone needs is the hint given by the dust itself and then it is just a matter of time until some other nation develops a technique to produce it. You can’t stop brains from working, John; the reinvention of the method is a mathematical certainty, once they know what it is they are looking for. And uranium is a common enough substance, widely distributed over the globe-don’t forget that!
“It’s like this: Once the secret is out—and it will be out if we ever use the stuff!—the whole world will be comparable to a room full of men, each armed with a loaded .45. They can’t get out of the room and each one is dependent on the good will of every other one to stay alive. All offense and no defense. See what I mean?”
I thought about it, but I still didn’t guess at the difficulties. It seemed to me that a peace enforced by us was the only way out, with precautions taken to see that we controlled the sources of uranium. I had the usual American subconscious conviction that our
country would never use power in sheer aggressior Later, I thought about the Mexican War and the Spar ish-American War and some of the things we did i Central America, and I was not so sure— It was a couple of weeks later, shortly after inaugi.
ration day, that Manning told me to get the Chief c Staff’s office on the telephone. I heard only the tail en of the conversation. “No, General, I won’t,” Mannin was saying. “I won’t discuss it with you, or the Secr tary, either. This is a matter the Commander in Chi is going to have to decide in the long run. If he turns down, it is imperative that no one else ever knoi~ about it. That’s my considered opinion.. . . What that? . . . I took this job under the condition that I wa to have a free hand. You’ve got to give me a little le way this time.. . . Don’t go brass hat on me. I kne~ you when you were a plebe... . O.K., O.K., sorry... If the Secretary of War won’t listen to reason, you te him I’ll be in my seat in the House of Representativc tomorrow, and that I’ll get the favor I want from th majority leader. . . . All right. Good-bye.”
Washington rang up again about an hour later.] was the Secretary of War. This time Manning listene more than he talked. Toward the end, he said, “All want is thirty minutes alone with the President. I nothing comes of it, no harm has been done. If I cor vince him, then you will know all about it. . . . No, Si:
I did not mean that you would avoid responsibility. intended to be helpful. . . . Fine! Thank you, Mr. Se retary.”
The White House rang up later in the day and set time.

We drove down to the District the next day throug a nasty cold rain that threatened to turn to sleet. TF usual congestion in Washington was made worse b the weather; it very nearly caused us to be late in a:
riving. I could hear Manning swearing under h’
breath all the way down Rhode Island Avenue. But we were dropped at the west wing entrance to the White House with two minutes to spare. Manning was ushered into the Oval Office almost at once and I was left cooling my heels and trying to get comfortable in civilian clothes. After so many months of uniform they itched in the wrong places.
The thirty minutes went by.
The President’s reception secretary went in, and came out very promptly indeed. He stepped on out into the outer reception room and I heard something that began with, “I’m sorry, Senator, but—” He came back in, made a penciled notation, and passed it out to an usher.
Two more hours went by.
Manning appeared at the door at last and the secretary looked relieved. But he did not come out, saying instead, “Come in, John. The President wants to take a look at you.”
I fell over my feet getting up.
Manning said, “Mr. President, this is Captain DeFries.” The President nodded, and I bowed, unable to say anything. He was standing on the hearth rug, his fine head turned toward us, and looking just like his pictures—but it seemed strange for the President of the United States not to be a tall man.
I had never seen him before, though, of course, I knew something of his record the two years he had been in the Senate and while he was Mayor before that.
The President said, “Sit down, DeFries. Care to smoke?” Then to Manning. “You think he can do it?”
“I think he’ll have to. It’s Hobson’s choice.”
“And you are sure of him?”
“He was my campaign manager.”
“I see.”
The President said nothing more for a while and God knows I didn’t!—though I was bursting to know what they were talking about. He commenced again with,
“Colonel Manning, I intend to follow the procedur you have suggested, with the changes we discusse But I will be down tomorrow to see for myself that th dust will do what you say it will. Can you prepare demonstration?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”