Part 3 (1/2)

”Okay,” I said, ”you win. Guys like you make a business of going around the country breaking print-shops and printing-office managers.”

High-Pockets' booming voice came from the ceiling. ”You are mistaken. I did not try to break you.”

”Well, you broke me, anyway.” I blurted out the whole thing to him, how the receivers were about to close us up, how the Legal Printing Company job was weeks behind and was supposed to be delivered today. Then I apologized. ”It isn't your fault,” I told him. ”I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I just--well, I wanted to make good on this job.”

High-Pockets was very thoughtful. ”I feel kind of sorry for you,” he said.

”Oh, you don't need to. I earned it; I've got it coming. I was just a little too ambitious, that's all. I didn't know a man could be _too_ ambitious.”

High-Pockets looked at me. His deep eyes were thoughtful. I could almost see the neurons buzzing around in his head.

”If I could get this job out for you on time, would that save the day?”

”Probably.” I laughed--or tried to. ”But it is now a physical impossibility. There isn't enough time.”

High-Pockets said sharply, ”Call a truck,” and wheeled out of the office.

I called the delivery truck before I realized what I had done. Well, it didn't make any difference. They could start hauling out the machinery.

I finished cleaning out my desk and took a wastebasket full of papers to the back shop.

And there, I give you my word, three High-Pocketses were busy carrying galleys from the type-dump to the proof-press. And as fast as they could carry a galley of type from the dump, another galley would just materialize there. I stood and stared. Galleys of type were coming out of thin air at the rate of about four galleys a minute.

I went over to where High-Pockets--the original High-Pockets, I suppose--was sitting at his machine. ”Would you please tell me what is going on?” I asked.

”Well,” said High-Pockets, ”it isn't so complicated. I just sent the other five back in time to set this job, that's all. They've gone back about twelve weeks; and of course there isn't much time, so I had to make them double up. I've got them split up into s.h.i.+fts, along with a double of the chairman there, to cover the six machines. It's a little hard to explain, whether they are split up in time, or the time-split ones are split up in place, or just what.”

”It's insane,” I said weakly.

”Well, at any rate, you see you have the equivalent of twelve night s.h.i.+fts running at once, plus twelve graveyard s.h.i.+fts. That's twenty-four times six--you have six machines--times twelve--that's the number of galleys a day for each machine. I think it comes out to seventeen hundred for a day's work.”

I grabbed hold of the vise-locking screw to keep my knees from doubling under me. It was incredible--and yet it was true.

High-Pockets also had organized the proofreaders and copyholders, and they were reading in the past also, and sending us proofs in the present. If anybody ever tells you they can't get seventeen hundred galleys of type a day out of six linecasting machines--well, they just don't know High-Pockets Jones.

”Of course,” he said apologetically, ”they'll want to be paid.”

I was practically hysterical by that time. ”I'll see that they get overtime for every hour they put in.”

High-Pockets looked at me with his deep eyes. ”Me, too,” he said. I laughed when I thought how there were nine of him working in twelve places at once--or was it twenty-four--or maybe forty-eight. I was too dizzy by that time to figure out anything. I only knew the job was going to be delivered. The truckers were going in a steady stream through the back door.

Maybe the receivers would close up the place; maybe they wouldn't. At least the job was being delivered.

About four-thirty, the galleys suddenly quit coming; the job was finished. Half an hour later it was out of the shop, and I had entered it on the books.

I had hardly laid down the pen when the three receivers came in. They smoked a little and talked and I held my breath while they looked at the books. I couldn't figure out what they were going to do.

One of them whistled when he saw the Legal Printing Company figures.