The observation room was dim and shadowy, lit mostly by the bluish-glowing screens. Hundreds of observers sat at their stations, with supervisors pacing between them. LUH sat and listened to the great mindless buzz of millions of voices crackling eternally in her earphones.
“I’m going away on holiday. Should I continue to take pinural or should I switch to something else?”
“Congratulations on your access to holiday. Holiday centers are equipped to maintain an agreeable sedation rate within certain limits. You do not need to take any special precautions.”
“This is city probe scanner. We’ve run across some illegal sexual activity. It should be on your DTO screen right now. Transfer to Control, mode seven.” “Thank you for assistance in crime prevention. Appropriate credits will be transferred to your account.”
“JDC… pickup on three… VPT… please report to Intrinsic Interloop Station 5… sampling error…”
One of her central screens showed a tired-looking old man standing in a complaint booth in one of the commercial plazas. Shoppers hurried back and forth behind him. The picture was blurry; LUH tried to get it clear but couldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” she asked into her lip mike.
The old man held up something that looked like a shopping bag.
“I just bought these new kind yesterday…” he rummaged through the shopping bag and pulled out a yellow plastic consumption hexagon. “And they don’t fit in my consumall, and the store doesn’t have any of the old ones.” LUH tapped out a standard response code on her key- board. A taped voice, very feminine, warm, soothing, said:
“For more enjoyment and greater efficiency, consumption is being standardized. We are sorry if you have experienced any temporary inconvenience. Place your identification badge in the reader and we will have units transferred to your account as soon as possible.”
Slightly dazed-looking, the man obediently undipped the badge from his lapel and slipped it into the reader. He waited patiently until the machine buzzed at him, then took the badge back.
“Thank you. And may we recommend an extra dosage of sedation? Etracene, enervol and pinural are compatible within group 3A.” The old man nodded dumbly and shuffled off, to be swept up by the crowd streaming by. LUH cut the picture and turned her attention to a pair of children who, giggling, were peeking in at the edge of the screen and then ducking out of sight, to hide behind a plastisteel bench in the middle of their school plaza. LUH smiled as she pressed a series of keys on her panel. A kind but stern baritone voice said:
“This monitor is to be used for emergencies or special requests only. All routine information can be easily obtained through the bulletin panels installed at every intersection.”
One little boy got up from behind the bench, stuck his tongue out at the screen, and then ran off laughing. LUH watched him until he disappeared around the corner of a building.
Then another scene, in a screen far up in the left corner of her set, caught her eye. She transferred the picture to the four main screens directly in front of her.
“What’s wrong?”
A man was screaming hysterically as he stood in a sanitary. There was no sound coming from him, though. Frantically, LUH worked the switched on her panel.
“… me… help me…” the man was shrieking.
“What’s wrong?”
The man thrust both hands into the medicine cabinet, knocking bottles everywhere. As they clattered to the floor, he dropped to his knees and started pouring out handfulls of pills and swallowing them madly.
LUH punched a single red button. A taped voice began saying:
“Take four red capsules, in ten minutes take two more. Help is on the way. Do not be afraid… Take four red capsules…”
She called Mercicontrol. “Okay, got it,” said a brash young man’s voice in her earphones. “You can let go now, we’ll take care of him.”
With a weary sigh, she acknowledged and let the screaming, pill-gobbling man’s image return to its upper left screen. The central screens showed four different robot assembly bays now. THX sat at one of them. LUH stared at him. There was no sound from the screens, only the constant cacophony of voices in her earphones.
But she ignored them now. She watched THX as he worked, all concentration, all sinew and hard, steady nerves, manipulating the metal hands as they did their delicate work of breathing radioactive life into a new chrome robot. Like bringing a baby to life, she thought.
“Concourse 5… cross three monitor.”
“Concourse 5… 3417-LUH… LUH.”
“Are you there? Relate. Relate.”
Suddenly realizing that they were talking to her, LUH snapped her attention to the frowning man whose image was now filling her right bottom main screen.
“LUH 3417,” she said. “Go ahead.”
“This is a control check,” the man said. “Bracket all request limitations. One: Have you received your ratio of enervol? Check 643 grams?”
“Yes,” she lied.
“Did you receive an etracene ration during your last work unit?”
She nodded.
“You’re due for a medical check. All remote monitor findings are within low-normal range. A mina plus three was detected but it’s not considered dangerous. Thank you.”
The screen flashed and then showed a commercial shopping plaza once again.
The cacophony in her earphones became impersonal again, leaving LUH to worry about how long she could go without taking a medical check. How long would it be before they found out she was guilty of drug evasion?
The voice of her supervisor, SEN 5241, cut in: “Scan inspectors are on their way. Be on the lookout, check back.”
“Yessir,” she said.
But THX was still on her top left main screen, still working steadily, intently.
LUH never saw the explosion in the assembly bay on the screen next to THX’s image. She never noticed the bay blow out in a shower of sparks and sudden choking billows of white smoke, men running, danger lights flashing balefully.
“Monitor concourse 5, cross three… 3417… emergency… emergency!”
She snapped out of her trance, eyes widening at the sight of the accident. Her hands worked the keyboard automatically and all four of her main screens showed the scene. LUH began frantically punching response keys.
A deep, calm, male voice said: “You are a true believer. Blessings of the State, Blessings of the masses. Thou art a subject of…”
Startled, she hit another sequence of keys. The screens showed men crawling through the smoke, others lying sprawled inert, broken. Flames licked evily through the area. Still no sound. Then:
“Eject… eject… evacuate all personnel…”
“There’s thirty-eight men trapped in there…”
“Seal all blast hatches! Mark!”
“Stay calm. Correct procedure is essential. Do not fail to remove auxiliary command circuits before evacuation. Vacuum detail…”
“Turn that damned tape off and get those men clear before the whole area goes up!”
“Mercicontrol! Emergency…”
LUH patched the pictures and sound directly to Mercicontrol. Involuntarily, she looked up at the screen where THX’s image had been transferred. It was a small screen, up at the top row, but she could see him still working. In her earphones she heard what he was hearing:
“There has been an accident in Blue sector, 1-14. Do not abandon your post. Repeat, do not abandon your post. There is absolutely no danger of radiation leakage. Repeat …”
LUH tapped another key and the radiation levels in THX’s assembly bay area appeared on her main data screen: already four points above normal and rising.
“The accident in Blue sector destroyed another 63 personnel, giving them a total of 242 lost to our 195. Keep up the good work and prevent accidents.”