"Miss Jones," he said patiently, "I gather that you aren't a technical person?"
"Not with machines, no."
It was an odd sort of answer. Did it imply that she had a technical knowledge of something other than machines? Dolan considered it briefly and decided to pass it up for now.
"I am a technically trained person," he said, "an expert as you say; and I can tell you this: machinery, electronic gear, anything like that, is built to do a specific job. Before you can design, build, or repair such equipment, the very first thing you have to know is: what do you want it to do? For all I know, this machine here may just be an overgrown coffee percolator. Now, suppose I go ahead and fix it with that in mind, and when I get done it makes beautiful coffee, but it turn out you wanted all along for it to get television programs, you're going to be terribly disappointed. You see now why I have to know what it does?"
The girl nodded seriously. "Yes," she admitted, "I can see that; but I'm sorry, I still cannot tell you the purpose of the machine." She glanced uncertainly at Smith. He shook his head minutely. "Perhaps," she said, "when Mr. Brown returns—"
Brown, however, did not convince easy.
Dolan puffed angrily at a cigarette, while Brown and the girl watched him impassively.
"Damn it," he said, "it just won't work like this, that's all there is to it." He kicked savagely at the base of the machine. "All I'm doing is chasing my tail in circles. I know what part of the trouble is now, somehow you've lost the insulation on your conductors—burned up, evaporated, blew away, God knows what. Anyway, it's gone. But I can't just spray some gunk back on and have it work like new, we just haven't got that kind of insulation. Where'd you get that stuff, anyway. Can't you get some more?"
"It was specially made for us," Brown told him. "We cannot get more at ... present."