ok the papers, studying them. Then he looked up. There was very
little question as to the bottleneck here. Each material shortage
traced back to one machine. He frowned.

"Maintenance people checked over that machine yet?" he asked.

Wizow shrugged impassively. "You're a staffman," he said coldly.
"Been on parole to us long enough, you should know what to do, so I'm
not going to tell you how. Just get to the trouble and fix it. All I
want is production. Leave the smart talk to the technical people." He
turned.

"Get in, Dachmann. I've got a headache for you."

Stan examined the tabulated sheets again. The offending machine was in
building nine thirty-two. Number forty-one.

He walked over to the parking lot and climbed on the skip-about he had
bought on his first pay day. The machine purred into life as he
touched a button and he raised the platform a few inches off the
ground, then spun about, to glide across the field toward block nine.

* * * * *

Fabricator number forty-one was a multiple. A single programming head
actuated eight spinaret assemblies, which could deliver completed
module assemblies into carriers in an almost continuous stream. It was
idling.

Stan visualized the flow chart of the machine as he approached. Then
he paused. The operator was sitting at the programming punch,
carefully going over a long streamer of tape. Stan frowned and looked
at his watch. By this time, the tapes should be ready and the machine
in full operation. But this man was obviously still setting up.

He continued to watch as the operator laboriously compared the tape
with a blueprint before him. There was something familiar in the
sharp, hungry-looking features. The fellow turned to look closely at
the print and Stan nodded.

"Now I remember," he told himself. "Sornal. Wondered what happened to
him. Never saw him after the first day up in Opertal."

Sornal came to the end of the tape, then scrabbled about and found the
beginning. He commenced rechecking against the print. Stan shook his
head in annoyance.

"How many times is he going to have to check that thing?" he asked
himself. He walked toward the man.

"Got trouble?"

Sornal looked up, then cringed away from him.

"I'll get it going right away," he whined. "Honest! Just want to make
sure everything's right."

"You've already checked your tape. I've been watching you."

Sornal flinched and looked away.

"Yeah, but these