What Thin Partitions Read Online Free PDF

cybernetics, ability to store impulses, even wrong ones.
    "Could be antigravity,” I agreed in an awed tone.
    "What else did you think it was?” he asked.
    "I'd rather not say,” I murmured.
    "Who made it?” he asked.
    "Auerbach, partly,” I answered.
    "Who's he?"
    "Research chemist. Works under Boulton."
    "Why didn't Boulton bring it to me? Don't answer. Boulton wouldn't believe it would work. What do we keep Boulton around here for? Don't answer. I hired him. Well don't just stand there. Tell Auerbach to get busy. Promote him. Tell him to put them into mass production."
    "It's not that simple,” I said, and wondered how to tell him.
    "Don't give me alibis.” His face took on an expression which he apparently hoped was conciliatory. “Ralph, don't you start giving me any of this stall about further research, testing, difficulties, all that folderol. Just put it into production."
    "It's a custom made job,” I said, trying to slow him down. “Only an experimental model."
    "Custom made today, production line tomorrow,” he shook his head in exasperation. “Well, what's holding you up?"
    "Money, for one thing,” I clutched at the first excuse I could think of, and wished it were as simple as that.
    He grabbed the phone again.
    "Get me the controller,” he barked, and waited. “Tim! What took you so long? Give Kennedy all the money he wants!” He listened for a moment and then turned to me. “He wants to know if you'll need more than a hundred dollars. He's got systems, or something.” He turned back to the phone without waiting for my reply. “Well,” he conceded, “I didn't actually mean all the money he wants. Let me know if he draws over a million dollars."
    He took the receiver away from his ear and looked at it in puzzlement.
    "Must have fainted,” he commented dryly, and hung up.
    "But,” I tried to object, thinking how the organization would be split wide open if I went out into the plant and started carrying out his instructions-all the noses out of joint, the toes stepped on. “I'm just the personnel director. I'm not a plant superintendent. I can't go around building buildings, setting up production lines-even if I knew how."
    "Get going,” he said. “I don't want any more alibis. All I want is a steady stream of antigravity units. That's not too much to ask for, I'm sure!"
    "Maybe a million dollars won't do it,” I said hopefully, and truthfully, as I reached for the door.
    "Well, all right,” he almost shouted. “We'll get a billion, then. We'll get a hundred billion. What do you think we got taxpayers for?"
    "You've been spending too much time in Washington,” I commented, as I went through the door. “You're beginning to talk like them.
    "Maybe Old Stone Face hadn't heard about things which money can't buy-such as a little girl who looks at you from behind strings of black hair. Maybe he hadn't heard about frameworks where money wasn't a consideration. Maybe he hadn't heard about a matrix where the question, “If you're so smart, why ain't you rich?” was on the order of the question, “if it's alive, why don't it breathe air?” Maybe he hadn't heard about frameworks, period.
    I hoped I wouldn't have to be the one to tell him about them.
    Annie Malasek was waiting for me in the outer personnel waiting room. She had little Jennie by the hand. Annie looked stem, Jennie looked penitent. Annie stopped me as I started past her.
    "I just came over to tell you, Mr. Kennedy,” she began, “I found out what Jennie did to your nice office last night. I whipped her good. Tell Mr. Kennedy you're sorry, Jennie.” She looked down at Jennie sternly, and squeezed her hand.
    "I'm sorry,” Jennie mumbled.
    "Tell Mr. Kennedy you won't do it again,” Annie went on remorselessly.
    "I won’ do it again,” Jennie repeated dutifully.
    "Tell Mr. Kennedy you're going to be a good little girl from now on, and not burn things up or throw things,” Annie pursued with a determined gleam in her