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That this was a competent sociologist, and not just a computer technician had not at first been evident. But Nails was well pleased with his decision in the selection of this particular unit of his command. Things would go well in her presence, he felt. Details he might have struggled with would iron out or disappear, and scarcely come to his attention at all. Very competent, he thought.
"Spirits of Space a revolving magnetic field!" roared the Chief Technician. "They're making this whole blasted station a squirrel cage!" The mighty walls of eight-foot metal shuddered and trembled. The UV beams lashed out from the fort in quivering arcs now, they did not hold their aim steady, and the magnetic shield that protected them from atomic bombs was working and straining wildly.
Where colonics are legal, the chiropractors now consider this practice messy and not very profitable compared to manipulations. So it is not easy to find a skilled and willing colonic technician.
Well, I had nobody to blame but myself. I'd asked for the job when I first heard Dr. Pietro had collected funds and priorities for a trip to study Saturn's rings at close hand. And because I'd done some technical work for him on the Moon, he figured he might as well take me as any other good all-around mechanic and technician. He hadn't asked me, though that had been my own stupid idea.
The state, municipal or hospital laboratory which professes to do Wassermann tests should not be in charge of some poorly paid amateur or of a technician largely concerned with other matters, or its findings will be worthless.
The teacher of speaking should teach speech. He should teach something else also, but he should, as a technician, teach that.
But Joe asks: 'Why should they? They're undemocratic little high-keyed 'precious' bits; pictures for other artists, not real paintings, or they are unacceptable otherwise. He's a wonderful technician, though, and he'll make an exquisite sketch of you."
"Don't you know we're in action against a hostile ship?" Thomas looked surprised. "This here's my action station, Cap'n," he said. "I'm a Waste Recovery Technician, First Class, I keep the recovery system operatin'." "You just stay in here?" I asked. "No, sir," Thomas said. "I check through the whole system.
"You can't burn it, shoot holes in it, or so much as mark the surface with any known acid. This stuff's tougher than steel and about fifty times lighter." "O.K.," Peterson asked, "so what good is it?" "You can mold it when you mix it," the technician said significantly. "Hey, you're right," Peterson jumped up excitedly.
A broad highway encircled it outside the fence, patrolled night and day by twenty General Stuart cavalry-tanks. There were a thousand soldiers, and three hundred Atomic Power Authority police, and only God knew how many F.B.I, and Central Intelligence undercover agents. Every supervisor and inspector and salaried technician was an armed United States deputy marshal.
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