Part 8 (1/2)
”Quick, Roger!” Dr. Davenport shouted over her shoulder. ”We must get to the main computer!”
Roger nodded as he ran after her through the endless white corridors. Each door they pa.s.sed was posted with a large, neatly lettered sign: missile a.s.sembly; fourth di- mension LAB; ROCKET-TESTING STRIP; ANTIMATTER GENERATOR. Roger really didn't know what help he could be. What did he know about computers?- especially the kind in fifties' monster movies, with all those tape reels and flas.h.i.+ng lights. Heck, he had his own desktop computer at work, and, except for the word processing program, he never could figure out how to do anything on it.
Still, he had survived worse things in the Cineverse than computer illiteracy. He followed Dee Dee through an opaque gla.s.s door marked main computer.
The room was filled, floor to ceiling, with all sorts of metal hardware. Every inch of s.p.a.ce was crammed with gauges, dials, switches, tape reels, and yards and yards of flas.h.i.+ng lights, all of it gleaming dully beneath the overhead fluorescents. The sirens were even louder in here. A short, stocky man in a white lab coat ran back and forth across the room, punching a b.u.t.ton here, throwing a switch there. All his efforts had no discernible effect. The sirens continued to wail.
”Professor MacPhee!” Dr. Davenport called over the incessant ”Aaoogahs.” ”What's wrong?”
The professor spun to face the newcomers. His round face, neatly bisected by a severely trimmed mustache, nodded distractedly at Dr. Davenport.
”What's wrong?” He laughed harshly. ”What isn't wrong?'' He waved at the bank of lights to his left. ”I guess I realized something was amiss when I first noticed we were getting the Ittelson Effect on our Boatner Board!”
Aaoogah, aaoogah! went the sirens. Red lights flashed on one wall, green lights on another.
”I see,” Davenport replied. ”But did you try-”
”The Carver Switch?” MacPhee nodded unhappily. ”It's the first thing I thought of, what with the possibility of reversed impedance in the Aldridge circuits. But, when all the polarities checked out negative, I was forced to do a reading on the Bollesometer.”
”That only made sense,” Davenport agreed. ”It's a central concern of Young's theorem-”
”Yes, but the reading was totally in the red zone!” MacPhee replied hoa.r.s.ely.”Over one thousand bolles per second?'' the doctor asked incredulously.
MacPhee nodded. ”I'm afraid we're going to prove Young's theorem by blowing up the Inst.i.tute.” Yellow lights flashed on the computer's upper reaches, while white lights blinked near the floor.
Aaoogah! the sirens reminded them. Aaoogah!
”Not necessarily!” Dee Dee disagreed. ”You remember the work done by Dr.
Nordstrom of Helsinki-”
”But that's even more highly theoretical than Professor Young's work!” MacPhee objected.
Dr. Davenport looked at both MacPhee and Roger, her jaw set very stern and square.
”Well, I think we're going to prove both of those theorems now, one way or the other.
Are you men with me?”
Both men hastily agreed. Roger, as usual, had no idea what was really happening, but in this particular case, he decided that ignorance might be preferable.
Aaoogah! Aaoogah! the sirens screamed. Blue lights rippled across the computer's midsection, crisscrossing the orange lights that flickered around the tape reels.
”Then let's get to work,” Davenport commanded. ”Once we get the bolles vibrations down to an acceptable level-”
”Under one twenty?” MacPhee asked.
”It'll probably be safe at one fifty, but we'll get it down below one hundred if we can.” She slapped both men on the back. ”Roger, you'll have to set the Carver Switch to three point six. That's the most the system can take after we've reversed the Aldridge nodules. And when I say 'now,' slowly pull the lever down to zero. Professor MacPhee? It's up to you to man the Fernstetter.”
”But that means-” the professor began.
Davenport cut him off abruptly. ”That I'll have to override the Roberts Drive?
Somebody's got to do it, and, after all, I'm the one who built this baby.” She nodded to both of them one final time. ”Of course, I don't have to tell either of you the consequences of failure.”
”I know,” MacPhee replied, his voice barely above a whisper. ”Total Bowkerization.”
”To your stations,” Dee Dee ordered.
Roger was about to ask where and what a Carver Switch was, when he saw the large cardboard sign to his left with four-inch-high letters: CARVER SWITCHHe walked quickly over to the sign and set the k.n.o.b beneath it to 3.6. MacPhee, in the meantime, had grabbed a steering wheel beneath a sign that read fernstetter. Dr. Dee Dee Davenport was on the far side of the room, rapidly punching b.u.t.tons. Above her head was a large half-circle meter with a sign that read bollesometer. The indicator in the meter was well into the red zone; over a thousand bolles!
But the narrow pointer on the meter was starting to fall, edging from red to white.
”The Carver Switch is doing its job!” Davenport shouted triumphantly. ”Now, if we can only control the vibration effect-”
Aaoogah! Aaoogah! the sirens reminded them. The flas.h.i.+ng red lights turned to green, but the blinking green lights changed to red.
That's when the room began to shake. Roger looked up from the trembling switch he still held with his sweating palm. Should this be happening? The Bollesometer was reading less than 300!
Dr. Davenport was nonplussed. ”Professor! Double the ratio! And Roger, start turning that dial-NOW!”
The vibrations became even worse, as if the computer control room were at the center of an earthquake. Roger's hand was so damp with sweat that it almost slipped off the k.n.o.b. But he gripped the Carver Switch with all his might, blinking back the perspiration that fell into his eyes, doing his best to make sure the dial continued its slow, steady descent.
”Now, Professor!'' the doctor ordered. ”Go to maximum thrust!”
The Fernstetter made a high, whining sound as MacPhee pressed down on the steering column. Roger took a deep breath and turned the Carver Switch as far as it would go, all the way to zero.
Aaoogh-The sirens stopped abruptly. The Fernstetter powered down immediately as well. There was no sound in the room, save for the quiet hiss of rolling tape, the occasional pleasant beeping that accompanied some of the more special lights, and the ragged breathing of the three survivors.
”Gentlemen, ”Dr. Davenport announced. ”We've saved the Nucleotron.”
”Thank goodness you were here, Doctor!” MacPhee enthused. ”I couldn't have done it by myself.”
”Of course not,” Davenport agreed. ”But what exactly did happen?”
Professor MacPhee bristled at the very thought.
”You know what they would have said if we had failed: 'There are certain things that man was not meant to know.' ””Yes, but we did not fail,” Davenport cajoled. ”Although I do understand that the slime monster has broken loose?''
”And 'A scientist should not tempt forces beyond his control!'” MacPhee insisted.
”Yes, but, those forces remained within our control,” Davenport said patiently. ”Now, about the Slime Monster?”
”Perhaps,” MacPhee continued, becoming even more infuriated, ”even that 'we should have thought twice before tampering with the very fabric of the cosmos.''' His fingers curled into fists as he looked wildly about the computer room. ”Simple-minded fools!
Whatever we do, we do for science!”
”Yes, certainly; you'll get no argument on that. But how did the Slime Monster get loose?”
”Oh, that,” MacPhee replied, making a visible effort to calm himself. ”I'm not too sure-”