"So it seems," said Purcell dryly.
"A lot of people don't like him. Letheren hates the sight of him."
"That so? I don't suppose he's choked with esteem for Letheren either, eh?"
"Vogel loves nothing but power—which in this racket means seniority."
"Hm-m-m!" Purcell thought a bit, went out, came back after twenty minutes, thought some more.
"Where've you been?" asked Hancock.
"Accounts Department."
"Getting your pay while the going is good?"
"No. I have merely satisfied myself that one hundred and five equals seventeen hundred."
"It wouldn't save you even if it made sense." Hancock continued to busy himself with nothing and kept one eye on the clock. When the moment arrived he said, "On your way. I hope you suffer."
"Thanks."
Opening his desk Purcell extracted an enormous roll of paper, tucked it under one arm. He tramped out, found his way to the rendezvous, entered the office. Vogel, dark-eyed, dark-haired and swarthy, studied him without expression.
"Sit down, Purcell." He bared long, sharp teeth and somehow managed to look like Red Riding Hood's grandmother. "Terra has brought to my attention a demand origination from a planet named Nemo."
"That, sir, is—"
Vogel waved an imperious hand. "Please be silent, Purcell, until I have finished. Your own remarks can come afterward." Again the teeth. "A lot of very valuable time has been spent checking on this. I like to have all the facts before interviewing the person concerned."
"Yes, sir," said Purcell, nursing his roll of paper and looking suitably impressed.
"I have found firstly that Terra's statement is quite correct; such a demand was in fact made and you processed it. Secondly, that the subject of the demand, an irradiator, was transferred by you to an address upon this planet. Thirdly, that no planet discovered before or since the date of this demand has been officially given the name of Nemo." He put hands together in an attitude of prayer. "One can well imagine the trouble and exasperation caused on Terra. I trust, Purcell, that you have a thoroughly satisfactory explanation to offer."
"I think I have, sir," assured Purcell glibly.
"I'll be glad to hear it."
"The whole bother is due to someone on Terra jumping to the erroneous and unjustifiable conclusion that Nemo is the name of a planet when in fact it is a code word used by my department to indicate a tentative priority as distinct from a definite one."
"A tentative priority?" echoed Vogel, raising sardonic eyebrows. "What nonsense is this? Don't you realize, Purcell, that all demands must be rated strictly in order of importance or urgency and that there is no room for indecision? How can anything have a tentative priority?"
"I find it rather difficult to tell you, sir," said Purcell, radiating self-righteousness.
"I insist upon an explanation," Vogel gave back.
Assuming just the right touch of pain and embarrasment, Purcell informed, "Since cargo-space is severely limited the problem of granting priorities is a tough one. And when a senior official practically orders my department to assign to his demand a priority higher than it deserves it follows that, if we obey, something else of similar weight or bulk must accept lower priority than it deserves. But regulations do not permit me to reduce the status of a high-priority demand. Therefore I am compelled to give it a tentative priority, meaning that it will gain its proper loading-preference providing nobody chips in to stop it."
A gleam came into Vogel's eyes. "That is what happened in this case?"
"I'm afraid so, sir."
"In other words, you claim that you are suffering unwarranted interference with the work of your department?"
"That," said Purcell with becoming reluctance, "is putting it a little stronger than I'd care to do."
"Purcell, we must get to the bottom of this and now is not the time to mince words. Exactly what were you ordered to ship at high priority?"
"Gin, sir."
"Gin?" A mixture of horror and incredulity came into Vogel's face. But it swiftly faded to be replaced by a look of suppressed triumph. "Who ordered you to bring in gin?"
"I'd rather not say, sir."
"Was it Letheren?"
Purcell said nothing but assumed the expression of one who sorrows for Letheren's soul.
Gratified by this, Vogel purred. He rubbed his hands together, became positively amiable. "Well, Purcell, it appears to me that you have been guilty of no more than a small oversight. Should you find it necessary to employ code-words as a matter of administrative convenience it is obvious that Terra should be notified through the proper channels. Without regular notification Terra would eventually find itself trying to cope with incomprehensible jargon. An impossible situation as doubtless you now appreciate, eh, Purcell?"
"Yes, sir," said Purcell, humble and grateful.
"But in the present circumstances it would not be wise to advise Terra of the true meaning of Nemo. To do so would be tantamount to admitting that our priority system is being messed up at anybody's whim. I hope you see my point, Purcell."
"I do, sir."
"Therefore I propose to inform Terra that the inclusion of this word was due to a departmental error born of overwork and lack of sufficient manpower." He exposed the teeth. "That will give them something to think about."
"I'm sure it will, sir."
"Purcell, I wish you to drop the use of all code-words except with my knowledge and approval. Meanwhile I shall take the steps necessary to put a stop to any further interference with your department."
"Thank you,, sir." Purcell stood up, fumbled with his roll of paper, looked hesitant.
"Is there something else?" asked Vogel.
"Yes, sir." Purcell registered doubt, reluctance, then let the words come out in a rush. "I thought this might be an opportune moment to bring to your attention a new form I have devised."
"A form?"
"Yes, sir." He unrolled it, put one end in Vogel's hands. The other end reached almost to the wall. "This, sir, is a master-form to be filled up with the origin, purpose, details, progress and destination of every other form that has to be rilled in. It is, so to speak, a form of forms."
"Really?" said Vogel, frowning.
"By means of this," continued Purcell greasily, "it will be possible to trace every form step by step, to identify omissions or contradictions and to name the individual responsible. Should a form get lost it will be equally possible to find at what point it disappeared and who lost it." He let that sink in, added, "From what I know of interdepartmental confusions, many of which are hidden from senior officials, I estimate that this form will save about twenty thousand man-hours per annum."
"Is that so?" said Vogel, little interested.
"There is one snag," Purcell went on. "In order to save all that work it will be necessary to employ more people. Since their work would be wholly co-ordinatory they would come under your jurisdiction, thus adding to your responsibilities."
"Ah!" said Vogel, perking up.
"In fact we'd have to create a new department to reduce the total of work done. However, I have studied the subject most carefully and I am confident that we could cope with a minimum of thirteen men."
"Thirteen?" echoed Vogel, counting on his fingers. He sat staring at the form while into his face crept a look of ill-concealed joy. "Purcell, I believe you have something here. Yes, I really do."
"Thank you, sir. I felt sure you would appreciate the potentialities. May I leave the form for your consideration?"
"By all means, Purcell." Vogel was now well-nigh jovial. Fondly he stroked the form, his fingers caressing it. "Yes, you must certainly leave it with me." He glanced up, beaming. "If anything is done about this, Purcell, I shall need someone to take charge of this new department. Someone who knows his job and in whom I have the fullest confidence. I cannot imagine a better candidate than yourself."
"It is kind of you to say so, sir," said Purcell with grave d
ignity.
He took his departure but as he left he turned in the doorway and for a moment their eyes met. A glance of mutual understanding sparked between them.
Back in his own office Purcell plonked himself in a chair and recited, "Whenever two soothsayers meet in the street they invariably smile at each other."
"What are you talking about?" demanded Hancock.
"I was quoting an ancient saying." He held up two fingers, tight together. "Vogel and I are just like that."
"You don't fool me," Hancock scoffed. "Your ears are still red."
"Vogel loves me and I love Vogel. I hit him right in his weak spot."
"He hasn't any weak spots, see?"
"All I did," said Purcell, "was point out to him that if the number of his subordinates should be increased from ninety-two to one hundred and five he'd be automatically jacked up from a Class 9 to a Class 8 official. That would gain him another seventeen hundred smackers per year plus extra privileges and, of course, a higher pension."
"Nobody has to tell Vogel that—he knows it better than anyone."
"All right. Let's say I merely reminded him. In return he was good enough to remind me that a disabled hero bossing twelve underlings is far better off than one sharing an office with a surly bum."
"I neither ask nor expect the true story of your humiliation," growled Hancock. "So you don't have to cover up with a lot of crazy double-talk."
"Some day," offered Purcell, grinning, "it may dawn upon you that it is possible to buck a system, any system. All you need do is turn the handle the way it goes—only more so!"
"Shut up," said Hancock, "and talk when you can talk sense."
Another Part of the Galaxy Page 23