it again if Mrs. Mimms didn't spend afew hours with her every week. And, as usual, on every assignmentafter a few months had gone by, the exhausting sleep-beaming byDestiny apparatus of the cases where she had no direct contact. Therewas the young doctor on the third floor who was becoming addicted tohis own morphine supply. The campaign against Mrs. Jamison's frigiditywhich would be getting results in a few weeks. And the theft ofcompany funds which the middle-aged clerk in B-18 was contemplating.
Yes, it was always the priorees who suffered on an incompleteassignment. Not to speak of the Destinyworker involved. All the monthsof careful work building up, an event here, a circumstance there,only to let the delicate fabric slip back again into the impersonalHistoric Continuum. It wasn't fair, thought Mrs. Mimms. You weresuddenly transferred to another Time Zone and there was no one tocarry on. The answer from Central was always the same: NO AVAILABLEPERSONNEL. Not even a trainee. Not even--
Then Mrs. Mimms remembered the young salesman. It had been aparticularly hectic day at Central. Mrs. Mimms and the BriefingOfficer were conferring in the Chief's Office when the Chief finallypressed a buzzer in irritation and said, "He's still there? All right,I'll see him if he can state his case in five minutes." There werefirm, tired lines around the Chief's full-lipped mouth. All day longthe Translation Rooms had smelled of over-ionized electrodes asDestinyworkers arrived by the dozens from various Time Zones. Twothirds of the entire Past Division was being recalled and reassignedto a Condition 14 in the Twenty-Third--elimination of a teenage fadwhich was getting out of hand in North America. The Chief had smiledwanly as the young salesman shook hands and plunged into his salestalk.
"I know how busy you are, sir; thank you for seeing me. My firm,Duplicanicals Unlimited, believes it has the answer to your employmentproblem. Frankly, it's so simple that I'm amazed you haven't called onus to serve you before. Briefly, our plan is this. Your Operators gointo the various Time Zones as usual and lay the preliminarygroundwork (of course Duplicanicals _realizes_ there's no _real_substitute for humanoid tactics at the outset of any case). Then,"said the young man, bringing home his point triumphantly, "when thehuman Operator is needed elsewhere, a new model, low-cost Duplicanicaltakes over and carries on the work. Yes, every Duplicanical purchasedfrom our firm can release a Destinyworker for an assignment in anotherTime Zone. A few basic specifications is all that our plant needs toduplicate any Destinyworker down to--if I may say so--the slightestdetail. In emergencies, a simple photograph will do. Our skilledcraftsmen can deliver a finished model to your offices in a matter ofhours. Android construction guaranteed throughout at rock bottomprices. Why, a child could follow the simple instructions enclosedwith every...."
But already the Chief had turned back to the map of North America; hehad smiled politely and told the salesman to leave any literature hehad with his secretary.
Mrs. Mimms made a decision.
She picked up the telephone and dialed a number. Even before theResident Destinyworker had time for a greeting, Mrs. Mimms said:
"George, I want to send a message to Central. Make it a flatPriority-to-Present; there's no time to waste with a Zonal RelayLetter. ATTENTION: CHIEF, DESTINYWORKERS, INC...."
* * * * *
It was early evening when Eighty-One (Female, Duplicanical Pat.Pending U17809) entered the apartment and carefully set down the twoblack suitcases. For an hour she had been seated on the bus which hadcarried her from the address in New York out to Greenlawn. All thewhile she had been smiling faintly as per Similarity Instruction 3.
Eighty-One's cybertechnic brain hummed smoothly as she unpacked thebags and set up the Destiny apparatus (Work Instruction 17). Althoughshe was neither cold nor hot, she removed the plain brown coat (HumanFunction 55). From Eighty-One's chest there came the nearlyimperceptible ticking of her rotary stabilizer; it lessened slightlywhen she sat down at the desk as the take-up tension relaxed on keybearings.
From one of the black suitcases she took a copy of _TheDestinyworker's Manual & Guide_ and also a photocopy of a notebookmarked ACTIVE. She opened both books simultaneously and began to read.Without a glance at the bed behind her, she turned the pages slowlyand uniformly until next morning when the books were finished.Word-for-word copies of them were now lightly etched on the tape reelsbehind her deftly molded Pigma-Foam forehead, and even now were beingfed into the Action-and-Motion Editor at the base of her Myoplasticskull.
Satisfied, Eighty-One raised her hand in Female Instinctive Function14 and smoothed her graying Spun-Tex hair, feeling the hard stitchingon the scalp beneath.
Then the telephone rang and Eighty-One picked it up.
"This is Clair Howard in C-12, Mrs. Mimms. I'm so shamed to ask onsuch short notice but I'm _desperate_ for a sitter tomorrow afternoon.Can you possibly come over?"
"Why of course," answered the Duplicanical.
* * * * *
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