"George O. Smith - Counter Foil" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith George O)

because the rush-hour and just-before-rush traffic was heavier on Friday afternoons. It wo
undoubtedly repeat itself on Monday morning.
But as the moving finger wrote on toward the critical hour, it approached an all-time record. T
would ring no bells nor toot any whistles. It would be duly noted, and a memorandum would
issued authorizing a survey to determine the possible future expansion of facilities; the proba
cost of such an expansion; and above all, how much more income would pour into the coffers
Tele-portransit, Incorporated.

Walter Long said, "I appreciate your interest, Harry, but I simply can't go out of line for y
Johnny Peters." "Is it out of line?" asked Harry Warren.
"Yes, and it is also obvious to us in this section. Or, rather, it would be obvious if I did it."
"I should think you'd jump at a chance to reward someone who asked for advancement."
"I would. And I could justify jumping Peters over a number of his seniors if he were outstand
in just one department. But he isn't outstanding in anything but his ability to lolly-gag with Trudy.
"You make him sound like a washout."
"Oh, Peters is no washout," said Walter Long. "He's just not sufficiently outstanding to warr
special atten-tion."
"Well, you must admit that maintaining a monitor over a function-panel for a system th
adjusted and operated by a computer is not a job that provides an opportunity to be outstandi
There's just so much verve and vigor with which an ambitious man can turn a small knob to tw
the incoming line voltage by a couple of tenths. This operation gets pretty dull, especially when
computer will twist the knob itself if the line gets more than about a quarter of a volt off."
"I suppose you've a point."
"I think I do. But why not ask Johnny's boss? Joe knows him better than either of us."
"All right." Walter Long pressed a button; the intercom on his desk came to life.
Trudy, her composure regained, said, "Yes, Mr. Long?" "Trudy, connect me with Joe Fellow
will you?" "Mr. Fellowes took off a few minutes ago."
'Where, for the love of Pete?"
"
Mrs. Fellowes called and said that her baby was on the way. Joe took off for the maternity w
right after that. I could call him."
"No, don't bother right now. Just ask him to see me when he gets back. You've no word fr
the hospital yet, have you?"
"No, but from the way things looked, we won't have long to wait."
"O.K. Trudy. Keep me informed."
 "Yes, sir." She closed the circuit; contact died in the middle of her lilting respon
"Tele-por-TRAN-sit," to some incoming caller.
The clock hit five. The dial registering transits per minute rose sharply, and so did the graphs
displayed today's traffic compared to statistics. The increased load ran the incoming line down,
computer compensated for the drop before Johnny Peters could react. Somewhere down in
power distribution frames, a fuse blew; the local emergency power took over with no interrupt
while the blown fuse was replaced by a device that had neither nerves to twitch nor fingers
fumble.

The first inkling that something was wrong was given to Joe Fellowes.
Down in the computer, Joe's emergency trip from the Teleportransit Building to the mater
ward of City Hos-pital was racked up by the peg count circuits and added to the statistics be
compiled in the Accounting Depart-ment. The computer also registered the awaiting trip of M
Fellowes, the doctor, the interne, and the nurse. Being a machine, it did not understand about b
and life or death, so it can't be blamed for not registering the unborn Fellowes infant, alive an