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Updated: June 19, 2025
Doris Rives clung tighter to Melroy's arm as he pushed a way for himself and her through the crowd and into the temporary office. Inside, they were met by a young man with a deputy marshal's badge on his flannel shirt and a .38 revolver on his hip. "Ben Puryear: Dr. Rives," Melroy introduced. "Who's the mouthy character outside?" "One of the roustabouts; name's Burris," Puryear replied.
If somebody shoots you through the head, it doesn't matter whether he planned to murder you for a year or just didn't know the gun was loaded; you're as dead one way as the other. I should think you'd thank me for trying to eliminate a serious source of danger." "Now, don't misunderstand my position, Mr. Melroy," the other man hastened to say. "I sympathize with your attitude, entirely.
Safe outside the shielding, in a corner of a high-ceilinged room, was the plyboard-screened on-the-job office of the Melroy Engineering Corporation's timekeepers and foremen. Beyond, along the far wall, were the washroom and locker room and lunch room of the workmen.
With that, he sat down. Melroy was on his feet at once. "I'll deny those statements, categorically and seriatim," he replied.
"Ground Defense Command; Midtown City," Leighton said. "They have a medical section of their own; they'll be glad to get Dr. Rives, too." Melroy helped her on with her coat and handed her her handbag, then shrugged into his own overcoat and belted it about him, the weight of the flashlight and the automatic sagging the pockets.
That is, none of them has ever been caught doing anything downright calamitous ... yet," Melroy replied. "The moron I'm afraid of can go on for years, doing routine work under supervision, and nothing'll happen. Then, some day, he does something on his own lame-brained initiative, and when he does, it's only at the whim of whatever gods there be that the result isn't a wholesale catastrophe.
By 0930 the next morning, Keating's forebodings began to be realized. When Melroy rejected his demand that the two men be reinstated, Crandall demanded to see the records of the tests. "They're here at my office," Melroy told him. "You're welcome to look at them, and hear recordings of the oral portions of the tests.
"The psychologist who's subbing for Dr. von Heydenreich," the box told him patiently. "Oh, yes. Show him in," Melroy said. "Right away, Mr. Melroy," the box replied. Replacing the handphone, Melroy wondered, for a moment, why there had been a hint of suppressed amusement in his secretary's voice. Then the door opened and he stopped wondering. Dr. Rives wasn't a him; she was a her.
By the time Keating had rounded up all the regular Melroy Engineering Corporation employees and Melroy had talked to Colonel Bradshaw about security-clearance, it was 1430. A little later, he was called on the phone by Leighton, the Atomic Power Authority man. "Melroy, what are you trying to do?" the Power Authority man demanded. "Get this whole plant struck shut?
"Before I go on," Melroy continued, turning to Lyons, "have I your permission to let Dr. Rives explain about these tests, herself, and tell how they were given and evaluated?" Permission granted by Lyons, Doris Rives rose. At some length, she explained the nature and purpose of the tests, and her method of scoring and correlating them. "Well, did Mr.
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