Chapter 2

The first reaction of the sector chief to the dreaded words “delayed report” was a shocked negation, an illusory belief that it couldn’t happen to him.

To the intense annoyance of the communications supervisor, his first act was to rush down to communications and go through all the routines for rousing the colonists the supervisor had tried. His worry was mounting so rapidly that he hardly noticed the resigned expression of the operator who knew he would have to go through all these useless motions again and again before it was all over, and somebody did something.

“Well,” the chief said to the supervisor. “It’s my problem now.” He sighed, and unconsciously squared his shoulders.

“Yes, Chief Hayes,” the supervisor agreed quickly. Perhaps too quickly, with too much relief? “Well, that is, I mean...” his voice trailed off. After all, it was.

“You understand my check of your routines was no reflection on you or your department,” Hayes said diplomatically. “It’s a heavy responsibility to alert E.H.Q., pull the scientists off who knows what delicate, critical work--maybe even hope to get the attention of an E--all that. I had to make sure, you know.”

“Of course, Chief Hayes,” the supervisor said, and relaxed some of his resentment. “Serious matter,” he chattered. “Disgrace if an E, without half trying, put his finger on our oversight. We all understand that.” He tried to include the nearby operators, his boys, in his eager agreement, but they were all busy showing how intensely they had to concentrate on their work.

“That’s probably all it is--an oversight,” Hayes said with unconvincing reassurance; then, at the hurt look on the supervisor’s face, added, “Beyond our control here, of course. Something it would take at least a scientist to spot, something we couldn’t be expected ... What I mean is, we shouldn’t get alarmed until we know, for sure. And--ah--keep it confidential.”

“Of course, Chief Hayes,” the supervisor said in a near whisper. He looked meaningfully around at the room of operators, but did manage not to put his finger to his lips. Those who were observing out of the corners of their eyes were grateful for at least that.

On his way back to his own office Chief William Hayes reflected that the bit about keeping it confidential was on the corny side. Within fifteen minutes he’d start spreading it all over E.H.Q., himself. Every scientist, every lab assistant would know it. Every clerk, every janitor would know it. E.H.Q. would have to work full blast all night long, and some of the lesser personnel had homes down in Yellow Sands at the foot of the mountain.

These would be calling their husbands and wives, telling them not to fix dinner, not to worry if they didn’t come home all night. No matter how guarded, the news would leak out, the word spread, and the newscast reporters would pick it up for the delectation of the public. Eden colony cut off from communication. Nobody knows ... Wonder ... Fear ... Delicious ... Exciting...

Or was this the kind of thinking that had kept him from qualifying as an E? What was it the examiner had asked? “Mr. Hayes, why do you feel it is all right for you to view, to read, to know--but that others should be protected from seeing, reading, knowing? What are these sterling qualities you have that make it all right for you to censor what would not be right for others?”

He abruptly brought his mind back to the present. Perhaps he’d first better prepare a news statement before he did anything else, something noncommittal, reassuring. No point in getting the populace stirred up.

As he sat down behind his desk, a big man in a brown suit, natural iron-gray hair, a calm and administrative face, he began to realize that for the next twenty-four hours, at least, he would be in the spotlight. Well, he’d give a good account of himself. Demonstrate that he had an executive capacity beyond the needs of his present job. More than a mere requisition signer, interoffice memo initialer.

For one thing the scientists would give him trouble. If he had been deeply hurt that they thought he couldn’t open up his mind enough to become an E, what about scientists whose limits were reached still farther along? He must remember to keep his temper, use persuasion, maybe kid them a little. The blasted experts were almost as bad as E’s--worse, in a way, because the E didn’t have to remind anybody of his dignity, or how important the work was he was doing.

But then, you never asked an E to drop what he was doing, and listen. You never asked an E to do anything. He either noticed and was interested, or he didn’t notice, or wasn’t interested.

But nobody ever told an E that he must apply himself to a problem. Once a man became a full-fledged Extrapolator he was outside all law, all frameworks, all duty, all social mores. That was the essence of E science, that any requirement outside of his own making didn’t exist. It had to be that way. That kind of mind could not tolerate barriers, but spent itself constantly in destroying them. Erect barriers of triviality, and it would waste its substance upon trivial matters. The only answer was to remove all possible barriers for the E, lest immersion in something trivial prevent that mind from seeking out a barrier to knowledge, a problem of significance.

But the scientists! Hayes sighed. If only the scientists wouldn’t keep thinking they were cut from the same cloth as the E. They had to have restrictions, organization imposed upon them. Yes indeed!

They’d grumble at being taken away from their work to assemble a review of all the known facts about Eden--a dead issue as far as their own work was concerned, for Eden had been assayed and filed away as solved. They’d moan and groan about having to drag up the facts that had been analyzed and settled long ago.

He saw himself compared with the producer of a show, and theatrical performers didn’t come any more temperamental than scientists. He’d be hearing about how much of their time he’d wasted for months to come. Every time any administrator asked why they hadn’t produced whatever it was they were working on, it would be because Chief Hayes had interrupted them at the most crucial moment and they’d had to begin all over again.