“Certainly, certainly.”
“When I woke up this morning I was much fuzzier than I am now. Things are starting to fill in for me. I’m certain I’m about thirty-four years old. There must be, though I can’t remember it as yet, some useful function I fill on the outside. Some part of the essential function of Greater Los Angeles.”
“That’s surely possible,” answered the therapist.
“All you have to do is let them know at Central Control and I’ll be able to take off. You must have my outside clothes and ID packet and money someplace.”
“You realize that in a terminal of this size we can not be responsible for loss of property,” said the machine. “Theft of belongings is naturally lamentable. The responsibility can not be assumed, however, by the terminal staff.”
“No,” said Penrose, “I’m not grousing about my belongings. Let’s go back to the fact that I’m only thirty-four years old. I don’t belong here.”
“To be sure.”
“Then you’ll do something?”
“You can assume that your problem will be given all the attention it warrants,” said the therapist. “I must be getting on to my next patient.”
“When exactly will you let me know?” Penrose asked as the machine started to roll toward Carlisle’s chair.
“Yes, yes,” it said and began talking to Carlisle.
Penrose glanced hopefully at Harrison and the one-armed man smiled back.
After lunch came sitting. Not in the soft chairs that had appeared for therapy but in stiff straight metal ones.
Penrose had his hands capping his knees. “Essentially,” he said to Harrison, “the terminals are a positive thing. A solution to the problem of senior clutter.”
“That’s the Welfare Squad point of view.” Harrison’s hand rested on his chest.
“Those old-timers who don’t function anymore in the highly overstocked urban and suburban complex are weeded out,” said Penrose. “Should it turn out that an individual senior citizen still has a valid function he can always be reclaimed.”
“They say the actual termination is pleasant.”
Looking at the red door Penrose said, “Right beyond there, isn’t it?”
“Yes. This is one of the waiting rooms. You can spend from a day to a week or more here. Depends on processing.”
After a moment Penrose said, “I should be back home by late today.”
“You know about yourself?”
Penrose shook his head. “Not entirely. I’m aware that I’m only thirty four. I’m in this terminal by mistake. All the details on myself haven’t come back to me as yet.”
“Still,” said Harrison, “don’t you wonder?”
“Wonder about what?”
“If this terminal has made a mistake. Perhaps others do, too. Perhaps this one has before.”
“No,” said Penrose, “that’s why they have the Efficiency Detail.”
“They slipped up in your case.”
There was a brief confusion because Guttenberg fell over sideways out of his chair. Carlisle and Remmeroy righted him.
“A system like this has to have a human element,” said Penrose. “Even though the terminal itself is fully automatic. The Efficiency Detail provides that human element. That’s why I know the error in my case will be cleared up.”
“Suppose,” said Harrison.
Remmeroy hopped up on his chair.
“Suppose what?” asked Penrose.
Harrison shrugged his armless shoulder. “That an Efficiency Detail man came here to Terminal #130 to inspect. They work solo, you know.”
“The budget doesn’t allow for teams.”
“Possibly the last time the Efficiency Detail man was through he overlooked a faulty rail on a ramp. This time as he leaned on it he fell and whacked his head. While he was unconscious, before the automatic staff rushed to help, someone might have switched papers with him. Someone named Fowler, say. By the time the staff gave him treatment for his fall and shots this Efficiency Detail man would be pretty confused. The equipment here, a lot of it anyway, is old and erratic and they might easily get him mixed up with one of these old fellows. One on his way to a termination waiting room.”
“Oh, that’s very unlikely,” said Penrose.
“I was a rich fuel speculator,” said Carlisle. “Before I got mixed up with this wild bunch here. Youngest fellow in my profession. How about you?” he called out to Penrose.
“I can’t,” he said, “quite remember.”
“Does it start with a W?”
The chairs retracted and it was time for naps, the wall told them.
Harrison frowned. “Penrose was with the Efficiency Detail.”
Penrose was put to sleep before he could say anything to Harrison.
The serving android was backed into a corner.
“On the blink again,” said Carlisle.
For dinner a table had appeared. The five men were arranged around it.
“I’ll give it a kick,” said Harrison.
Penrose jumped up and got to the android first. “Would you please get hold of the therapist for me.”
“Happy day,” said the machine.
“Look,” said Penrose. “That Harrison. He’s trying to tell me I’ve somehow been mistaken for an old man named Fowler. That it’s this Fowler’s turn to be terminated today. That kind of mistake is not going to look good on the records.” He touched one sticky arm of the enameled android. “I don’t know, Harrison could be lying. He says I’m with the Efficiency Detail. The drugs you people gave me. I’m still fuzzy. Will you tell the therapist to please, god, hurry. In case it is true.”
“Choice of dessert,” the andy said.
Remmeroy ran around the table and came slowly toward Penrose and the android.
The old man slammed his fist against the machine and broke his hand.
Penrose exhaled sharply. Somebody would have to come now and look after Remmeroy. Then he’d be able to get word out. If he were with the Efficiency Detail they wouldn’t be missing him yet. He only had to report in once a week. He covered a good part of Greater Los Angeles and didn’t have to file anything until the end of each work week.
Still, the Efficiency Detail might be wondering about him already. He’d been here two days now, apparently. He didn’t recall a family. Civil servants didn’t have time for close ties usually.
Remmeroy returned to the table. His good hand locked around his other wrist. He howled once and spun. Then sat quietly in his chair.
Nothing came to help him.
“The night nurse has some loose valves,” said Harrison. “May not come at all tonight.”
“I was the youngest real doctor in my home town,” said Carlisle. “My home town began with a D or an S.”
Penrose cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled.
The red door swung open and the lights in the gray room dimmed.
“Sorry,” said Harrison, turning away.
“Nice to have met you,” said Carlisle.
Two bright silver androids rolled out of the room beyond the red door. They slid over the floor and took hold of Penrose.
“This is going to mean trouble,” said Penrose.
Something jabbed his arm.
“Now, now,” said one of the androids. It had the same voice as the therapist. “Things are okay.”
“Perfectly,” added the other.
They took him into the termination room and guided him into its one straight chair. The chair, once his weight hit it, extended restraining straps around him.