"Asimov, Isaac - Profession" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

Still blank.
УYou may begin.Ф

There was, of course, no way anyone in the audience could tell how any contestant was progressing except for whatever notations went up on the notice board. But then, that didnТt matter. Except for what professional Metallurgists there might be in the audience, none would understand anything about the contest professionally in any case. What was important was who won, who was second, who was third. For those who had bets on the standings (illegal, but unpreventable) that was all-important. Everything else might go hang.
George watched as eagerly as the rest, glancing from one contestant to the next, observing how this one had removed the cover from his mlcrospectrograph with deft strokes of a small instrument; how that one was peering into the face of the thing; how still a third was setting his alloy bar into its holder; and how a fourth adjusted a vernier with such small touches that he seemed momentarily frozen.
Trevelyan was as absorbed as the rest. George had no way of telling how he was doing.
The notice board over Contestant Seventeen flashed: Focus plate out of adjustment.
The audience cheered wildly.
Contestant Seventeen might be right and he might, of course, be wrong. If the latter, he would have to correct his diagnosis later and lose time. Or he might never correct his diagnosis and be unable to complete his analysis or, worse still, end with a completely wrong analysis.
Never mind. For the moment, the audience cheered.
Other boards lit up. George watched for Board Twelve. That came on finally: УSample holder off-center. New clamp depresser needed.Ф
An attendant went running to him with a new part. If Trevelyan was wrong, it would mean useless delay. Nor would the time elapsed in waiting for the part be deducted. George found himself holding his breath.
Results were beginning to go up on Board Seventeen, in gleaming letters:
aluminum, 41.2649; magnesium, 22.1914; copper, 10.1001. Here and there, other boards began sprouting figures.
The audience was in bedlam.
George wondered how the contestants could work in such pandemo
nium, then wondered if that were not even a good thing. A first-class technician should work best under pressure.
Seventeen rose from his place as his board went red-rimmed to signify completion. Four was only two seconds behind him. Another, then another.
Trevelyan was still working, the nюinor constituents of his alloy bar still unreported. With nearly all contestants standing, Trevelyan finally rose, also. Then, tailing off, Five rose, and received an ironic cheer.
It wasnТt over. Official announcements were naturally delayed. Time elapsed was something, but accuracy was just as important. And not all diagnoses were of equal difficulty. A dozen factors had to be weighed.
Finally, the announcerТs voice sounded, УWmner in the time of four minutes and twelve seconds, diagnosis correct, analysis correct within an average of zero point seven parts per hundred thousand, Contestant NumberЧSeventeen, Henry Anton Schmidt ofЧФ
What followed was drowned in the screaming. Number Eight was next and then Four, whose good time was spoiled by a five part in ten thousand error in the niobium figure. Twelve was never mentioned. He was an also-ran.
George made his way through the crowd to the ContestantsТ Door and found a large clot of humanity ahead of him. There would be weeping relatives (joy or sorrow, depending) to greet them, newsmen to interview the top-scorers, or the home-town boys, autograph hounds, publicity seekers and the just plain curious. Girls, too, who might hope to catch the eye of a top-scorer, almost certainly headed for Novia (or perhaps a low-scorer who needed cnosolation and had the cash to afford it).
George hung back. He saw no one he knew. With San Francisco so far from home, it seemed pretty safe to assume that there would be no relatives to condole with Trev on the spot.
Contestants emerged, smiling wealdy, nodding at shouts of approval. Policemen kept the crowds far enough away to allow a lane for walking. Each high-scorer drew a portion of the crowd off with him, like a magnet pushing through a mound of iron filings.
When Trevelyan walked out, scarcely anyone was left. (George felt somehow that he had delayed coming out until just that had come to pass.) There was a cigarette in his dour mouth and he turned, eyes downcast, to walk off.
It was the first hint of home George had had in what was almost a year and a half and seemed almost a decade and a half. He was almost amazed that Trevelyan hadnТt aged, that he was the same Trev he had last seen.
George sprang forward. УTrev!Ф
Trevelyan spun about, astonished. He stared at George and then his hand shot out. УGeorge Platen, what the devilЧФ
And almost as soon as the look of pleasure had crossed his face, it left. His hand dropped before George had quite the chance of seizing it.
УWere you in there?Ф A curt jerk of TrevТ s head indicated the hail.
ССI was.ТТ
УTo see me?Ф
ССYes.ТТ
УDidnТt do so well, did I?Ф He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, staring off to the street, where the emerging crowd was slowly eddying and finding its way into skimmers, while new lines were forming for the next scheduled Olympics.
Trevelyan said heavily, УSo what? ItТs only the second time I missed. Novia can go shove after the deal I got today. There are planets that would jump at me fast enoughЧ But, listen, I havenТt seen you since Education Day. Where did you go? Your folks said you were on special assignment but gave no details and you never wrote. You might have written.Ф
УI should have,Ф said George uneasily. УAnyway, I came to say I was sorry the way things went just now.Ф
УDonТt be,Ф said Trevelyan. УI told you. Novia can go shoveЧ At that I should have known. TheyТve been saying for weeks that the Beeman machine would be used. All the wise money was on Beeman machines. The damned Education tapes they ran through me were for Henslers and who uses Henslers? The worlds in the Goman Cluster if you want to call them worlds. WasnТt that a nice deal they gave me?Ф
УCanТt you complain toЧФ
УDonТt be a fool. TheyТll tell me my brain was built for Henslers. Go argue. Everything went wrong. I was the only one who had to send out for a piece of equipment. Notice that?Ф
УThey deducted the time for that, though.Ф
УSure, but I lost time wondering if I could be right in my diagnosis when I noticed there wasnТt any clamp depressor in the parts they had supplied. They donТt deduct for that. If it had been a Hensler, I would have known I was right. How could I match up then? The top winner was a San Franciscan. So were three of the next four. And the fifth guy was from Los Angeles. They get big-city Educational tapes. The best available. Beeman spectrographs and all. How do I compete with them? I came all the way out here just to get a chance at a Novian-sponsored Olympics in my classification and I might just as well have stayed home. I knew it, I tell you, and that settles it. Novia isnТt the only chunk of rock in space. Of all the damnedЧФ
He wasnТt speaking to George. He wasnТt speaking to anyone. He was just uncorked and frothing. George realized that.
George said, УIf you knew in advance that the Beemans were going to be used, couldnТt you have studied up on them?Ф
УThey werenТt in my tapes, I tell you.Ф
УYou could have readЧbooks.Ф
The last word had trailed off under TrevelyanТs suddenly sharp look.
Trevelyan said, УAre you trying to make a big laugh out of this? You think this is funny? How do you expect me to read some book and try to memorize enough to match someone else who knows.Ф
УI thoughtЧФ
УYou try it. You tryЧФ Then, suddenly, УWhatТs your profession, by the way?Ф He sounded thoroughly hostile.