dirt, commoner. The market's glutted with them, the universe is crammed to overflowing with them. It may interest you to know that there is nothing you can do that a machine can't do better, faster, and a damn sight more cheerfully.'
'I'm sorry to hear that, sir.' Marvin said, sadly but with dignity. He turned to go.
'Just a minute,' McHonnery said. 'I thought you wanted to work.'
'But you said-'
'I said you were unskilled, which you are. And I said that a machine can do anything you can do better, faster, and more cheerfully,
but not more cheaply
.'
'Oh.' Marvin said.
'Yep, in the cheapness department, you still got an edge over the gadgets. And that's quite an achievement in this day and age. I have always considered it one of the glories of mankind that, despite its best efforts, it has never completely succeeded in rendering itself superfluous. You see, kid, our instincts order us to multiply, while our intelligence commands us to conserve. We are like a father who bears many sons, but contrives to dispossess all but the eldest. We call instinct blind, but intelligence is equally so. Intelligence has its passions, its loves and its hates; woe to the logician whose superbly rational system does not rest upon a solid base of raw feeling. Lacking such a base, we call that man – irrational!'
'I never knew that,' Marvin said.
'Well, hell, it's obvious enough,' McHonnery said. 'The aim of intelligence is to put the whole goddamned human race out of work. Luckily, it can never be done. A man will outwork a machine any day in the week. In the brute-labour department, there'll always be opportunities for the unwanted.'
'I suppose there's a certain comfort in that,' Flynn said doubtfully. 'And of course, it's very interesting. But when Pengle the Squib told me to go see you, I thought-'
'Hey, how's that?' McHonnery said. 'You're a friend of the Squib?'
'You might say that,' Flynn said, thus avoiding an outright lie, since anyone might say anything whether it was true or not.
'You should have told me that in the first place,' McHonnery said. 'Not that it would have changed anything, since the facts are exactly as I have stated them. But I'd have told you that there's no shame in being unskilled; hell, all of us have to start out that way, don't we? If you do well on a Short-Shuffle contract, you'll pick up skills in no time.'
'I hope so, sir,' Flynn said, growing cautious now that McHonnery had become affable. 'Do you have a job in mind for me?'
'As a matter of fact, I do,' McHonnery said. 'It's a one-week Shuffle, which, even if you don't like it, you could do standing on your head. Not that you should have to, since it's a pleasant and compatible job, combining mild outdoor exercise with modest intellectual stimulation, all in a framework of good working conditions, an enlightened management, and a congenial working force.'
'It sounds marvellous,' Flynn said. 'What's wrong with it?'
'Well, it's not the sort of job you can get rich at,' McHonnery said. 'In fact, the pay is lousy. But what the hell, you can't have everything. A week at this will give you a chance to think things over, talk with your fellow workers, decide upon a direction for yourself.'
'What is the job?' Marvin asked.
'The official job title is Ootheca Indagator, Second Class.'
'That sounds impressive.'
'Glad that you like it. It means that you hunt for eggs.'
'Eggs?'
'Eggs. Or to be more specific, you hunt for and, upon finding, collect the eggs of the rock ganzer. Think you can swing it?'
'Well, I'd like to know a little more about the techniques utilized for the collecting, and also about job conditions, and-'
He stopped because McHonnery was slowly, sadly shaking his head. 'You can find that out when you get there. I ain't delivering no goddamned travelogue, and you ain't deciding on no guided tour. Do you want the job or not?'
'Do you have anything else available?'
'No.'
'Then I'll take the job.'
'You've made a smart decision,'
'I'm sorry to hear that, sir.' Marvin said, sadly but with dignity. He turned to go.
'Just a minute,' McHonnery said. 'I thought you wanted to work.'
'But you said-'
'I said you were unskilled, which you are. And I said that a machine can do anything you can do better, faster, and more cheerfully,
but not more cheaply
.'
'Oh.' Marvin said.
'Yep, in the cheapness department, you still got an edge over the gadgets. And that's quite an achievement in this day and age. I have always considered it one of the glories of mankind that, despite its best efforts, it has never completely succeeded in rendering itself superfluous. You see, kid, our instincts order us to multiply, while our intelligence commands us to conserve. We are like a father who bears many sons, but contrives to dispossess all but the eldest. We call instinct blind, but intelligence is equally so. Intelligence has its passions, its loves and its hates; woe to the logician whose superbly rational system does not rest upon a solid base of raw feeling. Lacking such a base, we call that man – irrational!'
'I never knew that,' Marvin said.
'Well, hell, it's obvious enough,' McHonnery said. 'The aim of intelligence is to put the whole goddamned human race out of work. Luckily, it can never be done. A man will outwork a machine any day in the week. In the brute-labour department, there'll always be opportunities for the unwanted.'
'I suppose there's a certain comfort in that,' Flynn said doubtfully. 'And of course, it's very interesting. But when Pengle the Squib told me to go see you, I thought-'
'Hey, how's that?' McHonnery said. 'You're a friend of the Squib?'
'You might say that,' Flynn said, thus avoiding an outright lie, since anyone might say anything whether it was true or not.
'You should have told me that in the first place,' McHonnery said. 'Not that it would have changed anything, since the facts are exactly as I have stated them. But I'd have told you that there's no shame in being unskilled; hell, all of us have to start out that way, don't we? If you do well on a Short-Shuffle contract, you'll pick up skills in no time.'
'I hope so, sir,' Flynn said, growing cautious now that McHonnery had become affable. 'Do you have a job in mind for me?'
'As a matter of fact, I do,' McHonnery said. 'It's a one-week Shuffle, which, even if you don't like it, you could do standing on your head. Not that you should have to, since it's a pleasant and compatible job, combining mild outdoor exercise with modest intellectual stimulation, all in a framework of good working conditions, an enlightened management, and a congenial working force.'
'It sounds marvellous,' Flynn said. 'What's wrong with it?'
'Well, it's not the sort of job you can get rich at,' McHonnery said. 'In fact, the pay is lousy. But what the hell, you can't have everything. A week at this will give you a chance to think things over, talk with your fellow workers, decide upon a direction for yourself.'
'What is the job?' Marvin asked.
'The official job title is Ootheca Indagator, Second Class.'
'That sounds impressive.'
'Glad that you like it. It means that you hunt for eggs.'
'Eggs?'
'Eggs. Or to be more specific, you hunt for and, upon finding, collect the eggs of the rock ganzer. Think you can swing it?'
'Well, I'd like to know a little more about the techniques utilized for the collecting, and also about job conditions, and-'
He stopped because McHonnery was slowly, sadly shaking his head. 'You can find that out when you get there. I ain't delivering no goddamned travelogue, and you ain't deciding on no guided tour. Do you want the job or not?'
'Do you have anything else available?'
'No.'
'Then I'll take the job.'
'You've made a smart decision,'
Similar Books
Darkness Possessed (Order of the Blade)
Stephanie Rowe
On
Adam Roberts
The Fourth Trumpet
Theresa Jenner Garrido
Fiction River: Fantasy Adrift
Fiction River
The Avenger 6 - The Blood Ring
Kenneth Robeson
Quarry's Deal
Max Allan Collins
Back for You
Anara Bella
Jessica
Bryce Courtenay
His
Aubrey Dark
The Protector
Duncan Falconer