What Thin Partitions by Mark Clifton Read Free Book Online

such a bad guy. At least he didn't depend on uniforms to make him impressive.
    "The first cylinder was an accident,” I said to the blur of faces down the long table. “Sometimes accidents are hard to duplicate. So many factors, gentlemen."
    "But you did duplicate it,” the commanding general pointed out. “You activated five more. We have questioned Dr. Auerbach at length. He knows absolutely nothing of the method you use in activating these cylinders. Apparently no one knows but you. It is imperative that we know."
    I was in for it now. I had to explain somehow, or something.
    "But, gentlemen,” I protested hesitantly, and then heard myself saying, “I spoiled my poltergeist in making this half dozen, and I don't have another."
    There was a sigh of relief around the table, relaxation, suppressed contempt. I had not realized before how tense they all were.
    "I'm certain,” the commanding general said placatingly as if he were trying to reason with a small child, “that it can be replaced."
    "They're hard to get,” I faltered.
    "We will get them,” he stated pompously, confidently. “Difficult perhaps for you personally, yes, or even Computer Research.” He smiled patiently, “But for the military it is another matter entirely.” He turned and waved down the table toward another member of the brass trust.
    "General Sanfordwaithe is Supply and Materiel. I am sure it is within the power of the combined armed forces to get you all the whatever-it-is you may need."
    I looked down the table at General Sanfordwaithe with a question in my eyes. He looked smugly back at me.
    "Do you know what a poltergeist is?” I asked.
    He looked slightly piqued.
    "I am administrative,” he reproved gently and patiently, as only a military man can put a civilian in his place. “I do not pretend to be personally familiar with the specifications of every one of the several million items under my jurisdiction.” He smiled, and his voice became almost waggish. “But I am certain you will find our poltergeist division sympathetic to your needs."
    That did it.
    "Oh goodie,” I exclaimed. “Then maybe you'd better send me a half dozen to start with."
    "And is that all that's been holding you up?” the commanding general asked, softly reproving.
    "And this time, make them little boy poltergeists,” I urged. “Mine was a little girl poltergeist, and maybe that was what was wrong-just too delicate for the job."
    I could see by their faces they assumed I was talking about some gadget similar to a male and female electrical plug, and was being cute in my terminology.
    "Mr. Kennedy hasn't been feeling well lately,” Old Stone Face put in hurriedly. “He's been working very hard. Much too hard. I would have sent him on a long rest weeks ago had this not been so urgent."
    They looked at me with some pity beneath their contempt-a soft civilian.
    From there on it was no more than a diplomatic and tactical withdrawal of forces. I withdrew early, to allow Old Stone Face further time for excuses of my behavior.
    But they would be back.
    The order would go out from General Sanfordwaithe's office to supply me with a half dozen male type poltergeists immediately. It would flow down through the echelons of command, getting sterner and terser. There would be some scrambling around trying to find the poltergeist division, but no one would become alarmed that it had been lost. That was customary.
    There would be days, perhaps weeks when the orders would be pigeonholed, on the theory that if you just forget to do anything about it, the need will pass. But General Stanfordwaithe would not let them forget this time. There would be memorandums, each one dredging a little farther down the chain of command before it, in turn, became pigeonholed.
    And finally, somewhere down the line, some clerk would know what a poltergeist was. He would first go to the source books and look it up, so that he could have the paragraphs to substantiate him when he tried to