The Reproductive System (Gollancz SF Library) Read Free Page B

said, ‘Dedication to the human race cannot be curtailed by mere time.’
    ‘Our work goes on,’ his brother intoned, ‘day and night, committed ever to the achievement of peace in our time, final, eternal peace—’
    ‘That’s fine. But do you have to have all these lights on?’ Grandison entered, waving aside the aimed pistol of the marine guard, and donned a white lab coat from a locker.
    ‘Our newest project will consume immense quantities of power,’ Kurt informed him. ‘But it will benefit the human race immeasurably.’
    ‘Great. Good work, boys. But will it get me a new contract? Will it put Millford on the map? Will it make the government want to shower money on me?’
    The twins looked at one another for a flickering second. ‘It will indeed,’ they chorused.
    Louie stuck his head in the door and shouted to Hita, ‘Oh, there you are.’ He smiled and nodded at the marine guard, who was trying to decide whether or not to shoot him. ‘Hita, I’ll meetcha in the gym, OK?’ Hita smiled and nodded, and the ebullient intruder withdrew.
    Grandison turned around and noticed the statistician. ‘Hi there,
amigo
!’ he said grinning, and walked over to him, hand extended. Hita was the only member of the staff with whom Grandison ever shook hands.
‘Como esta Usted?’
    ‘
Muy bien
,’ replied the Japanese, without enthusiasm.
    ‘That’s fine, fine. Now, if any of these fellows don’t treat you right, you just come tell me, hear? I signed a government contract, and that means I got to give fair and equal employment to You Fellows. It don’t matter what your race, creed, colour or religion is, you’re all Americans !’
    ‘But I’m not an American,’ Hita protested. Grandison affected not to hear him.
    ‘Yes, I rebuilt this company from nothing, in less man a year—and I want to keep what we got. We got the finest cafeteria, the best coffee machines, the nicest bowling alleys and gym, the cleanest bomb shelters money can buy—and I want us to keep ’em. I want all you boys, black and white, to put your backs into it and really pull—for the company !’
    ‘I’m sure we’re all doing our best,’ said Hita, picking up a pair of scissors. ‘Well, I must go.
Adios
.’
    ‘We, too, must leave, Kurt,’ said Karl. ‘We must confer with Dr. S. just now. Potter here can show you around the lab, Mr. Wompler.’ The brothers moved off, in lock-step.
    ‘Say,’ said Grandison behind his hand. ‘I heard someone say their name was Frankenstein.’ His voice dropped to a confidential whisper and his face grew solemn. ‘They ain’t—they ain’t Jews, are they?’
    ‘I believe they are Irish Protestants, sir,’ said Cal, trying to keep his face straight. ‘Their name is Mackintosh. Would you
    like to see the lab?’
    ‘Yes, fine.’
    At each exhibit, Grandison would pause while Cal named the piece of equipment. Then he would repeat the name softly, with a kind of wonder, nod sagely and move on. Cal was strongly reminded of the way some people look at modern art exhibitions, where the labels become more important to them than the objects. He found himself making up elaborate names.
    ‘And this, you’ll note, is the Mondriaan Modular Mnemonicon.’
    ‘—onicon, yes.’
    ‘And the Empyrean diffrean diffractosphere.’
    ‘—sphere. Mn. I see.’
    Nothing surprised Grandison, for he was looking at nothing. Cal became wilder. Pointing to Hita’s desk, he said. ‘The chiarascuro thermocouple.’
    ‘Couple? Looks like only one, to me. Interesting, though.’
    A briar pipe became a ‘zygotic pipette’, the glass ashtray a ‘Piltdown retort’, and the lamp a ‘phase-conditioned Aeolian’. Paperclips became ‘nuances’.
    ‘Nuances, I see. Very fine. What’s that thing, now?’ He pointed to an oscilloscope. Cal took a deep breath.
    ‘Its full name,’ he said, ‘is the Praetorian eschatalogical morphomorphic tangram, Endymion-type, but we usually just call it a ramification.’
    The