Read Online Wine of the Dreamers by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John D. MacDonald
Tags: Science-Fiction
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JCS hinted at a complete reorganization of the top management of military-civilian space flight efforts.
Sensing the possibility of cancellation of Project Tempo, the administrative branches in Washington—finance, personnel, procurement—were pulling the reins tight by compounding the numbers of reports necessary.
Sharan Inly tapped at the door and came into Bard’s office. He turned and gave her a weary smile. She woreher usual project costume, jeans and a man’s white shirt with the sleeves rolled high, collar open.
She glanced with distaste at the mound of paper on his desk. “Bard, are you a clerk or a scientist?”
“I’m too busy learning to be the first to do anything about the second. I am beginning to learn something about government paper work, though. You know, I used to try to handle every report—at least set up reasonable procedure for it. Then I found out that before I can get a report in, the whole thing is changed around. Know what I do now?”
“Something drastic?”
“I had rubber stamps made. Take a look. See this one? HOLD FOR ACTION—COORDINATION GROUP . And this one. FOR REVIEW AND REPORT—STATISTICAL COMMITTEE . Here is a pretty one. SUSPENSE FILER—PROGRAMMING BOARD .”
“What on earth are they for?”
“Oh, it’s very simple. Now take this report request right here. See, it came in three copies. The Industrial Research Committee of the Planning Board of the Materials Allocation Group of the Defense Control Board wants a report. And I quote. ‘It is requested that on the twelfth and twenty-seventh of each month, beginning with the month following receipt of this directive, that the planned utilization of the appended list of critical metals be reported for three months in the future, each month’s utilization to be expressed as a percentage of total utilization during the six months period immediately preceeding each report.’ And here is their appended list. Seventeen items. Did you see that new girl in my outer office, in the far corner?”
“The little brunette? Yes, I saw her.”
“Well, I route this report to her. She cuts a stencil and mimeographs the directive, runs off a hundred copies. She’s my Coordination Group, my Statistical Committee and my Programming Board. On the twelfth and twenty-seventh of each month she’ll mail in a copy of the directive with one of the rubber stamp marks on it. She’ll sendone to the Defense Control Board and one to the Materials Allocation Group and one to the Planning Board and one to the Industrial Research Committee. I let her use any stamp she happens to feel like using at the moment. It seems to work just as well as making out the report. Probably better. I have her put a mysterious file number on the stencil.”
“Oh, Bard, how terrible that your time has to be taken up with this sort of thing!”
“I don’t mind most of them. But here’s a rough one. No more personnel, Sharan. At least, they’re making it so complicated to put on any new person that the delay will run into months. We’ll have to make do with what we have. They’re hamstringing me, very neatly. And I can’t fight back. There’s no one to fight. Just a big vague monster with carbon-paper tentacles, paper-clip teeth, and a hide made of layers of second sheets.”
“Why, Bard? Why are they turning against the Project? They believed in it once.”
“It’s taking too long, I guess.”
“Can’t you go to Washington?”
“I’m no good at that sort of thing. I get a compulsion. I know what to say, how to butter them, but I can’t quite manage to do it.”
She went over to a heavy oak armchair near the window, dropped into it, hooked one slim leg over the arm. She frowned. He walked over and looked out the window, following her glance. “Well, Sharan, even if it never gets off the ground, they can’t say that we didn’t build a big one.”
Even in the brightest sunshine, the light that shone down on the project area was diffused. Four
Sensing the possibility of cancellation of Project Tempo, the administrative branches in Washington—finance, personnel, procurement—were pulling the reins tight by compounding the numbers of reports necessary.
Sharan Inly tapped at the door and came into Bard’s office. He turned and gave her a weary smile. She woreher usual project costume, jeans and a man’s white shirt with the sleeves rolled high, collar open.
She glanced with distaste at the mound of paper on his desk. “Bard, are you a clerk or a scientist?”
“I’m too busy learning to be the first to do anything about the second. I am beginning to learn something about government paper work, though. You know, I used to try to handle every report—at least set up reasonable procedure for it. Then I found out that before I can get a report in, the whole thing is changed around. Know what I do now?”
“Something drastic?”
“I had rubber stamps made. Take a look. See this one? HOLD FOR ACTION—COORDINATION GROUP . And this one. FOR REVIEW AND REPORT—STATISTICAL COMMITTEE . Here is a pretty one. SUSPENSE FILER—PROGRAMMING BOARD .”
“What on earth are they for?”
“Oh, it’s very simple. Now take this report request right here. See, it came in three copies. The Industrial Research Committee of the Planning Board of the Materials Allocation Group of the Defense Control Board wants a report. And I quote. ‘It is requested that on the twelfth and twenty-seventh of each month, beginning with the month following receipt of this directive, that the planned utilization of the appended list of critical metals be reported for three months in the future, each month’s utilization to be expressed as a percentage of total utilization during the six months period immediately preceeding each report.’ And here is their appended list. Seventeen items. Did you see that new girl in my outer office, in the far corner?”
“The little brunette? Yes, I saw her.”
“Well, I route this report to her. She cuts a stencil and mimeographs the directive, runs off a hundred copies. She’s my Coordination Group, my Statistical Committee and my Programming Board. On the twelfth and twenty-seventh of each month she’ll mail in a copy of the directive with one of the rubber stamp marks on it. She’ll sendone to the Defense Control Board and one to the Materials Allocation Group and one to the Planning Board and one to the Industrial Research Committee. I let her use any stamp she happens to feel like using at the moment. It seems to work just as well as making out the report. Probably better. I have her put a mysterious file number on the stencil.”
“Oh, Bard, how terrible that your time has to be taken up with this sort of thing!”
“I don’t mind most of them. But here’s a rough one. No more personnel, Sharan. At least, they’re making it so complicated to put on any new person that the delay will run into months. We’ll have to make do with what we have. They’re hamstringing me, very neatly. And I can’t fight back. There’s no one to fight. Just a big vague monster with carbon-paper tentacles, paper-clip teeth, and a hide made of layers of second sheets.”
“Why, Bard? Why are they turning against the Project? They believed in it once.”
“It’s taking too long, I guess.”
“Can’t you go to Washington?”
“I’m no good at that sort of thing. I get a compulsion. I know what to say, how to butter them, but I can’t quite manage to do it.”
She went over to a heavy oak armchair near the window, dropped into it, hooked one slim leg over the arm. She frowned. He walked over and looked out the window, following her glance. “Well, Sharan, even if it never gets off the ground, they can’t say that we didn’t build a big one.”
Even in the brightest sunshine, the light that shone down on the project area was diffused. Four
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