How had he ever got sucked into this in the first place?
IV.
He sat tensely for at least five minutes, pressing the tips of his fingers together and waiting for some manifestation from the apparatus. When nothing had occurred at the end of that time he allowed himself to relax a trifle. It appeared he was not going to be overwhelmed with some kind of mechanical hypnosis trying to convince him he was a five-star genius, misunderstood and unsung, anyway. How long should he sit here before going back to the hotel and reporting to Dodge, he wondered.
Of course, if he had it his way, he never would report to Dodge — ever again. Dodge was an administrative windbag who knew virtually nothing whatever of the research processes he was called upon to program and direct. It was more important to him to keep Senator Graham’s sixth cousin happy as director of a study that was way over his head than it was to find a way of shrinking the size of the XB-91.
But, then, his own position was not so different. He considered it superior to that of the engineers doing the actual work. In reality, he was little more than an office boy in gold braid —
He sat up sharply. What the devil was going on? What kind of thinking was that? He held an important post — a very important post. Without his coordinating efforts the XB-91 wouldn’t have been built for another year, at least. Anybody could push a slipstick back and forth, but it took someone who understood the engineering and possessed the administrative qualities —
His thought ceased momentarily in a swirl of confusion. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, clinging to the single concept of his key importance as Liaison Officer over construction of the XB-91. He had to cling to that idea. It was suddenly of overwhelming importance.
And then it was gone. A swirl of panic surged in his belly. He felt as if he were trying to reach out for something lost and forever beyond him. But it was gone, and he glimpsed what was left.
He was not merely Dodge’s kind; he was worse. He pretended to be an engineer. Dodge didn’t make the pretense.
He had a degree in engineering, but he was no engineer. He never had been. He knew the formulas and he could find things in the handbooks, but a new, complex problem that had no handbook solution left him in panic. None of his kind, who spent their time telling the genuine engineers what ought to be done, could do the job themselves if it were turned over to them.