Waldo

Robert A Heinlein Waldo

The act was billed as ballet tap - which does not describe it

His feet created an intricate tympany of crisp, clean taps. There was a breath-catching silence as he leaped high into the air, higher than a human being should - and performed, while floating there, a fantastically improbable entrechat douze

He landed on his toes, apparently poised, yet producing a fortissimo of thunderous taps

The spotlights cut, the stage lights came up. The audience stayed silent a long moment, then realized it was time to applaud, and gave

He stood facing them, letting the wave of their emotion sweep through him. He felt as if he could lean against it; it warmed him through to his bones

It was wonderful to dance, glorious to be applauded, to be liked, to be wanted

When the curtain rang down for the last time he let his dresser lead him away. He was always a little bit drunk at the end of a performance; dancing was a joyous intoxication even in rehearsal, but to have an audience lifting him, carrying him along, applauding him - He never grew jaded to it. It was always new and heartbreakingly wonderful

‘This way, chief. Give us a little smile.' The flash bulb flared. ‘Thanks.

‘Thank'you. Have a drink.' He motioned towards one end of his dressing room. They were all such nice fellows, such grand guys - the reporters, the photographers - all of them

‘How about one standing up?' He started to comply, but his dresser, busy with one slipper, warned him: ‘You operate in half an hour.

‘Operate?' the news photographer said. ‘What's it this time?

‘A left cerebrectomy,' he answered. ‘Yeah? How about covering it?

‘Glad to have you - if the hospital doesn't mind.

‘We'll fix that.

Such grand guys

‘-trying to get a little different angle on a feature article.

It was a feminine voice, near his ear. He looked around hastily, slightly confused. ‘For example, what made you decide to take up dancing as a career?

‘I'm sorry,' he apologized. ‘I didn't hear you. I'm afraid it's pretty noisy in here.

‘I said, why did you decide to take up dancing?

‘Well, now, I don't quite know how to answer that. I'm afraid we would have to go back quite a way-

James Stevens scowled at his assistant engineer. ‘What have you got to look happy about?' he demanded

‘It's just the shape of my face,' his assistant apologized. ‘Try laughing at this one: there's been another crash.

‘Oh, cripes! Don't tell me, let me guess. Passenger or freight?

‘A Climax duo-freighter on the Chicago-Salt Lake shuttle, just west of North Platte. And, chief-

‘Yes?

‘The Big Boy wants to see you.

‘That's interesting. That's very, very interesting. Mac-

‘Yeah, chief.

‘How would you like to be Chief Traffic Engineer of North American Power-Air? I hear there's going to be a vacancy.

Mac scratched his nose. ‘Funny that you should mention that, chief. I was just going to ask you what kind of a recommendation you could give me in case I went back into civil engineering. Ought to be worth something to you to get rid of me.

‘I'll get rid of you - right now. You bust out to Nebraska, find that heap before the souvenir hunters tear it apart, and bring back its deKalbs and its control board.

‘Trouble with cops, maybe?

‘You figure it out. Just be sure you come back.

"With my slipstick, or on it." Stevens's office was located immediately adjacent to the zone power plant; the business offices of North American were located in a hill, a good three quarters of a mile away. There was the usual inter- connecting tunnel; Stevens entered it and deliberately chose the low-speed slide in order to have more time to think before facing the boss

By the time he arrived he had made up his mind, but he did not like the answer

The Big Boy, Stanley F. Gleason, Chairman of the Board greeted him quietly. ‘Come in, Jim. Sit down. Have a cigar.

Stevens slid into a chair, declined the cigar and pulled out a cigarette, which he lit while looking around. Besides the chief and himself, there were present Harkness, head of the legal staff, Dr Rambeau, Stevens's opposite number for research, and Striebel, the chief engineer for city power. Us five and no more, he thought grimly- All the heavy- weights and none of the middleweights. Heads will roll!- Starting with mine

‘Well,' he said, almost belligerently, ‘we're all here. Who's got the cards? Do we cut for deal?

Harkness looked faintly distressed by the impropriety; Rambeau seemed too sunk in some personal gloom to pay any attention to wisecracks in bad taste. Gleason ignored it. ‘We've been trying to figure a way out of our troubles, James. I left word for you on the chance that you might not have left.

‘I stopped by simply to see if I had any personal mail,' Stevens said bitterly. ‘Otherwise I'd be on the beach at Miami, turning sunshine into vitamin D.

‘I know,' said Gleason, ‘and I'm sorry. You deserve that vacation, Jimmie. But the situation has gotten worse instead of better. Any ideas?

‘What does Dr Rambeau say?

Rambeau looked up momentarily. ‘The deKalb receptors can'tfail,' he stated

‘But they do

'‘They can't. You've operated them improperly.' He sunk back into his personal prison

Stevens turned back to Gleason and spread his hands. ‘So far as I know, Dr Rambeau is right, but if the fault lies in the engineering department, I haven't been able to locate it. You can have my resignation.

‘I don't want your resignation,' Gleason said gently. ‘What I want is results. We have a responsibility to the public.

‘And to the stockholders,' Harkness put in

‘That will take care of itself if we solve the other,' Gleason observed. ‘How about it, Jimmie? Any suggestions?

Stevens bit his lip. ‘Just one,' he announced, ‘and one I don't like to make. Then I look for a job peddling magazine subscriptions.

‘So? Well, what is it?

‘We've got to consult Waldo.

Rambeau suddenly snapped out of his apathy. ‘What! That charlatan? This is a matter of science.

Harkness said, ‘Really, Dr Stevens-

Gleason held up a hand. ‘Dr Stevens's suggestion is logicaL But I'm afraid it's a little late, Jimmie. I talked with him last week.

Harkness looked surprised; Stevens looked annoyed as well. ‘Without letting me know?

‘Sorry, Jimmie. I was just feeling him out. But it's no good. His terms, to us, amount to confiscation.

‘Still sore over the Hathaway patents?

‘Still nursing his grudge.

‘You should have let me handle the matter,' Harkness put in. ‘He can't do this to us - There is public interest involved. Retain him, if need be, and let the fee be adjudicated in equity. I'll arrange the details.

‘I'm afraid you would,' Gleason said dryly. ‘Do you think a court order will make a hen lay an egg?

Harkness looked indignant, but shut up

Stevens continued, ‘I would not have suggested going to Waldo if I had not had an idea as to how to approach him. I know a friend of his-

‘A friend of Waldo? I didn't know he had any.

‘This man is sort of an uncle to him, his first physician. With his help I might get on Waldo's good side.

Dr Rambeau stood up. ‘This is intolerable,' he announced. ‘I must ask you to excuse me.' He did not wait for an answer, but strode out, hardly giving the door time to open in front of him

Gleason followed his departure with worried eyes. ‘Why does he take it so hard, Jimmie? You would think he hated Waldo personally.

‘Probably he does, in a way. But it's more than that; his whole universe is toppling. For the last twenty years, ever since Pryor's reformulation of the General Field Theory did away with Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, physics has been considered an exact science. The power failures and transmission failures we have been suffering are a terrific nuisance to you and to me, but to Dr Rambeau they amount to an attack on his faith. Better keep an eye on him.