coincidence.It's a strange name."
Mrs. Reardon agreed.
Vogel drove back to the shop, whistling.
He did not go to his chess club that night, but went to the libraryinstead. He read about Flying Saucers, about space travel, about thepossibility of life on other planets. Sometimes he chuckled. Once hefrowned deeply and bit his lip.
That night in bed, listening to his wife's shallow breathing, he said,"Alice."
"Yes?"
"Supposing you were lost on a desert island. What would you do?"
"I'd build a raft," she said sleepily.
Vogel smiled into the darkness.
Next day he made a systematic tour of the stockroom, scanning theracks of completed sub-assemblies, the gleaming fixture components,the rows of panels, brackets, extrusions, all waiting like soldiers tomarch from the stockroom into final assembly.
Vogel suddenly grunted.
There, half hidden behind a row of stainless-steel basin assemblies,was a nine-inch bowl. He examined it. The bowl was heavy and shiny.There was no part number stamp, and the metal was not alclad, notstainless, not cad nor zinc. Five small copper discs had been weldedto the lower flange.
Vogel carefully scraped off a sample with a file. Then he replaced thepart in the stock rack and went into his office where he placed thesample in an envelope.
That afternoon he ranged the shop like a hound.
In the shipping crib, he found a half-completed detail that struck achord of strangeness. Two twisted copper vanes with a crumpled shoptraveler signed by Amenth. The next operation specified furnace braze.Vogel squinted at the attached detail print. It was a current jobnumber.
He spent the next two hours in the ozalid room, leafing through theprint files. The job number called for a deep-freeze showcase, andthere were exactly two hundred and seven detail drawings involved.
Not one of them matched the print in shipping.
After an almost silent dinner at home, he sat smoking his pipe,waiting for the phone to ring. It rang at eight.
"It's platinum," Carstairs said. Tim Carstairs was a night-shiftchemist. "Anything wrong, Mr. Vogel?"
"No." Vogel paused. "Thanks, Tim." He hung up, glanced at his fingers.They were shaking.
"You," Alice said, "look ready to call mate in three."
"I'm going over to the shop," he said, kissing her. "Don't wait up."
* * * * *
He was not surprised to see the light on in the parts control section.Amenth was writing planning sheets.
"I don't believe we authorized overtime," Vogel told him mildly,hanging up his coat.
"Just loose ends." Amenth's smile was nervous. "Tying up these burdencharts. I'm on my own time."
"Thought I'd set up next month's budget." Vogel sat at his desk. "Bythe way, what did you do before you came here?"
"Odd jobs." Amenth's lips twitched.
"Your family live on the coast?"
Sweat glistened on the little man's forehead. "Ah--no. My folks passedon years ago."
Cat and mouse.
"You've done good work lately." Vogel yawned, studying the progresschart on the wall. Behind him he heard a soft exhalation of relief,the furtive rustle of papers as Amenth cleaned off his desk.
When Amenth finally left, Vogel went over to his desk and methodicallyransacked the work in process file. It took him two hours to find whathe was looking for.
One: A schematic detail on graph paper which resembled no type ofcircuit Vogel had ever seen.
Two: Fourteen completed shop travelers on which were typed clearly,_Call Amenth upon completion_. That was not unusual; most expediterswanted to be notified when a hot part hit Inspection. The unusual partwas that no inspection stamp had been placed opposite the finaloperation of _Inspect_, _Identify_, _Return to Stock_. Ergo, Amenthhad inspected and stocked the parts himself.
Three: A progress chart with dates, indicating four detail parts stillremaining in fabrication. Final assembly date--tomorrow!
The following afternoon, Vogel sat alone in the conference room. Thedoor opened and Amenth came in. "You sent for me, sir?"
"Sit down, Amenth. Let's talk a while."
Amenth sat down uneasily.
"We're considering you for promotion," Vogel said, silencing thelittle man's protests with a deprecating wave. "But we've got to knowif you're ready. Let's talk about your job."
Amenth relaxed.
They talked shop for a few moments, then Vogel opened a folder, tookout his watch. "Very good," he said. "Now let's check your initiativepotential." As Amenth stiffened, Vogel reassured him, "Relax. It's aroutine association test."
For the next ten minutes he timed Amenth's responses with a stopwatch. Most of the words were familiar shop words and most of theresponses were standard.
"_Job._"
"Escape," Amenth said instantly.
"_Blueprint._"
"Create."
"_Noise._"
"Hate."
"_Want._"
"Home!"
It was all so childish, so obvious, and Amenth's eyes were frightenedamber pools when Vogel dismissed him. No matter. Let him suspect.Vogel studied the reaction results with grim amusement.
Outside, the shop roared.
And Amenth's travelers sped the rounds: Issue material; Shear to size;Form on brake; Weld per print; Miter, drill, inspect, stock. One byone, the strange details were being formed, finished, to lie inert inthe stockroom, to await final assembly.
Assembly.
Of _what_?
Tonight was project completion.
* * * * *
Midnight.
Vogel stood in darkness, leaning against the wall. He was tired. Hehad maintained this vigil for three hours. His right leg was numb andhe started to shift position, then froze as he heard footsteps. Threeaisles over, a light exploded, blindingly. He held his breath.
From outside in fabrication came the muffled clang of drill press andpower brake, the sounds of the night shift. He waited. Three aislesover, something moved. Someone fumbled in the stock bins, collectingshaped pieces of metal, grunting with the effort of piling them on thesalvage bench, now panting with impatience while assembling the parts.There was a hammering, a fitting together, a flash of light, a hummingof power and finally a sob of relief.
Vogel's hand slipped into his coat pocket and grasped the gun. Hemoved silently.
Amenth stood at the salvage bench, adjusting studs and connectingterminals. Vogel stared at the final assembly.
It was a helmet. A large silvery helmet, connected to a nightmarishmaze of wiring, mounted on a rectangular plastic base. It hummed,although there was no visible source of power. Amenth put on thehelmet with a feverish haste. Vogel chuckled. Amenth stood motionless.Then as his hand darted toward a stand, Vogel said sharply, "Don't!"
Amenth stared at the gun.
"Take it off!" Vogel's voice was iron.
Amenth slowly took off the helmet. His eyes were golden with tears."Please," he said.
"Mars or Venus?" Vogel said. "Which?"
"N-neither. You could not grasp the concept. Let me go. Please!"
"Where?" Vogel prodded. "Another dimension?"
"You would call it that," the alien whispered. Hope brightened hisface. "You want something? Wealth? Power?"
It was the way he said the words, like a white trader offering hisaborigine captors glass beads to set him free.
Vogel nodded toward the circuit. "That hookup--you tap thegravitational field direct? Cosmic rays?"
"Your planet's magnet force lines. Look, I'll leave you the schematicdiagram. It's simple, really. You can use it to transmute--" Hebabbled on with a heartbreaking eagerness, and Vogel listened.
"In my own world," said Amenth brokenly, "I am a moron. A criminalmoron. Once, out of a childish malice, I destroyed beauty. One of thesinging crystals." He shuddered. "I was punished. They sent mehere--to the snake pit. Sentence for felony. Thi
s--" he indicated thehelmet--"would have fused three seconds after I used it. So,incidentally, would this entire shop. I had no time to construct afeedback dispersion."
"Tell me about your world," Vogel said.
Amenth told him.
Vogel's breath hissed softly between his teeth. All his life anunformed vision had tormented him, driven him toward perfection.Abruptly the vision was reality. He smiled, moved forward. "Youshouldn't have told me."
Amenth saw the intent in his eyes and started to beg. Vogel clippedhim behind the ear.
He put the helmet on, gingerly. The electrodes tingled against histemple and his grin was wry as he thought of Alice. Then he