Part 8 (1/2)

He whipped out a busted-up old Tool. It was caked with dirt and looked like it hadn't been used in years.

”What kind of contraption is that?” asked the Foreman.

”It's a Glitchometer!”

Glitchometers had been all the rage in the days before Clean Sweep, but they had been discontinued due to serious design flaws and now were mostly collectibles or sold at antique Tool fairs.

”Where on earth did you get it?” asked Becker, impressed.

”I didn't get it on earth! I got it from my grandfather's Toolkit. He's got all kinds of wacky junk.” Simly's paternal grandfather was regarded as one of the greatest Briefers who ever lived, and though he had never made it to Fixer, he had a.s.sisted on many a famous Mission. Simly fired up the Tool and it sprang to life, the sensitive needle flipping back and forth, before zeroing itself. ”Glitchometers focus in directly on the unique energy trail left by a Glitch, and when activated, should take us right-”

But black smoke began to cough out the sides, along with an awful sc.r.a.ping sound, forcing Simly to shut it down before it blew up in his hands.

”Sorry, boss. I don't know what happened.” Simly was dejected, especially considering he prided himself on Tool prep and deployment. ”Do you want me to call my grandpa and see if he can-”

”Don't sweat it, Simly.” Becker rolled up the blueprints and stuffed them in his Toolkit. ”We'll do this the old-fas.h.i.+oned way.”

The Snooze, Department of Sleep, The Seems Deep in the sub-bas.e.m.e.nt of the factory was where they manufactured Snooze-one of the three key ingredients (along with Refreshment and Twinkle) that were mixed to create Sleep itself. Since this was where the Glitch was last sighted, it was here that Becker and Simly began their investigation.

The air was hot and thick with the smell of burning rubber. Men with smocks and welding visors loaded pure Exhaustion into smelting pots while mechanized arms dropped mola.s.ses and maple syrup from gargantuan soup ladles. Once cooled, the gelatinous mess congealed into a thick taffylike substance, which was then cut into chunks and s.h.i.+pped to the Master Bedroom for final mixing.

”No, no, no, no no!” A rosy-cheeked man in a chef 's outfit was sampling the batch. ”Zis is too sweet!”

The Snoozemaster had been promoted from ”Sous” all the way to ”Chef de Cuisine” because of his instinct for how to make Sleep even tastier, but his bombastic personality had ruffled a few feathers along the way.

”What do you want from me?” cried one of the Tireless Workers. ”The Glitch threw off our entire recipe!”

”Gleech, Gleech, Gleech! I no want to hear no more about zis Gleech!” The Snoozemaster kicked over a row of pots and pans, while beside him, Becker waited patiently for the temper tantrum to subside.

”So tell me again how it started?”

”I get call into ze office, on a night when I have tickets to Ze Snorchestra no less, and what do I findz? All ze recipes for ze Snooze are, how you say, ba.s.s ackwards!”

The master pressed the Snooze b.u.t.ton and rebooted his computer, which printed Becker a list of recipes that had all been mixed and matched.

”Coffee beans are being blended with Pizzazz. Cinnamon with ze Mope. I told zese idiots from day one not computerize ze cookbooks. We makes zis by hand since back in ze Day, and ze system need no Fixing!”

Becker shook his head. One of the great frustrations of Fixing was the tendency of the Powers That Be to layer ”quick fixes” on top of the existing technology, rather than fess up to the need for a page one redesign. ”Give me a second, okay?”

”Everybody stand back,” announced Briefer Frye. ”Give the man some s.p.a.ce!”

Becker closed his eyes, and using the old-fas.h.i.+oned way, reached out with his 7th Sense to hone in on the Glitch. Judging from the goose b.u.mps that sprouted up along his arms, he had picked up the trail, but it was still faint. Sense to hone in on the Glitch. Judging from the goose b.u.mps that sprouted up along his arms, he had picked up the trail, but it was still faint.

”I wish I could stay to help rewrite your recipes,” apologized Becker, ”but I have to get my hands around this thing before it trashes the whole department.”

The Snoozemaster understood but still appeared quite shaken.

”But what about ze Snooze? Sleep cannot be mixed wizout ze precious Snooze!”

Becker stepped over to a vat, dipped his finger in the sludge, and took a sample taste.

”It's almost there. Maybe an Energy reduction would enhance the flavor of the underlying Exhaustion?”

”No, no, no. Zis is crazy. It will never work . . .” Simly and the Tireless Workers dropped their eyes to the floor. ”Unless . . . ”

”A little bit of Love?” Becker seemed to read his mind.

”Exactly!”

A spark shot through the room.

”Can you do it in time?” the Fixer asked hopefully.

”Not only can I,” bellowed the Snoozemaster, turning toward his line cooks with fire in his eyes. ”But it shall be ze heaviest, most satisfying Snooze anyone in Ze World has ever seen!”

A roar went up among the Tireless Workers, but as they scrambled to gather the necessary ingredients, Simly couldn't resist taking a taste for himself.

”Needs paprika.”

WDOZ, Department of Sleep, The Seems ”W . . . D . . . O . . . Zzzzzzzzzz.”

Becker's goose b.u.mps had led them to a small radio station on the roof of the department and while the jingle lingered in the air, he and Simly waited for the disc jockey to finish up his act.

”And that was 'The Sound of Rain Outside Your Window on a Lazy Afternoon,' by the Somnambulists . . . an oldie but goodie, designed designed to ease your to ease your mind mind into the soft, sweet paradise of Sleep.” into the soft, sweet paradise of Sleep.”

WDOZ had been established to broadcast soft tones to the subconscious minds of the people of The World-helping them to relax in preparation for the arrival of their Good Night's Sleep. The DJ pulled another forty-five from the library in the booth.

”Up next, I've got a fresh take on a deep cut from back in the Day . . . ” He put the needle to the record, which was ent.i.tled ”The Hum of the Air Conditioner (Remix).” ”My name is Johnny Zzzzzzzzzzz and you've been listening to WDOZ, greasing the hinges on the ol' inner doorway since 13303.”

As the record began to spin, the balding, pony-tailed jock lowered the volume and exited the booth to join Becker and Simly.

”Look, brother”-his off-air personality was a far cry from his on-air one-”I don't know what anyone told you, but there ain't no Glitch in my my station.” station.”

”I'm not here to blame anybody,” Becker a.s.sured him. ”It's just that Glitches can be tricky. Maybe it got into the board.”

”A Glitch got into the board?” The DJ shook his head, insulted, then pulled out a pair of headphones and jacked them into the slot. ”Be my guest.”

Becker gave Simly the okay to put the phones on, and Johnny Z cranked up the volume on what was being broadcast to The World that very moment. In a matter of seconds, Simly's eyelids started to get heavy and he began to make s.p.a.ce for himself on the floor.

”See? The Z-man never fails.”

This guy reminded Becker of Joel Waldman-a kid from Highland Park who had a major att.i.tude problem-but the Fixer still wasn't convinced. He reached into his Toolkit and pulled out a dog-eared copy of the one book that every Fixer cannot do without.

Its official name was The Compendium of Malfunction & Repair, The Compendium of Malfunction & Repair, but everyone who had one called it ”the Manual” and (as promised in the foreword) it contained ”Everything You Need to Know to Fix.” Becker turned to chapter 6, ”Schematics and Blueprints,” and quickly found the page for WDOZ. but everyone who had one called it ”the Manual” and (as promised in the foreword) it contained ”Everything You Need to Know to Fix.” Becker turned to chapter 6, ”Schematics and Blueprints,” and quickly found the page for WDOZ.

”Can I take a look at the Incapacitator?”

”What the heck is that?” The Z-man may have been the Program Director, but he obviously had no clue about the inner workings.