“I don’t see what else you can blame,” I said. The suspicions I’d been entertaining ever since the installation of the computer were now being confirmed. I knew enough about production to be aware that it wasn’t only a question of having the necessary labour, machines and materials, but also of being given accurate information. It didn’t at the moment matter very much about the scrap; even I, though that side of the business wasn’t officially my concern, could estimate roughly how much we had in stock. It would matter in the future; and if the computer had given the wrong figure for scrap it could give the wrong figure for any­thing else.

Hillington assumed a sorrowful expression and shook his head slowly. “No, Mr. Lampton, no, no, no. The machine isn’t the cul­prit. You must blame your system. Even the teething trou­bles are merely a minor consideration. If you don’t put the right information in the machine you can’t expect to get the right information out of it. You see, it’s like this . . .”

He went on to explain; I listened with a mounting exultance. It was all exactly as I had foreseen. Brown was first and foremost a man who knew how to produce steel. He had had no metal­lurgical training whatever; but he could tell you all about a cast­ing from the look of it, from the feel of it and sometimes, I used to think, from the smell of it. And there wasn’t any process of steel production which he hadn’t learned by practical experience. Otherwise, as Susan’s old flame had said, he was a throwback to the nineteenth century. It had taken a long time to persuade him to install the computer, just as it had taken a long time to persuade him to install a punch card accounting system. But, once persuaded, he wanted to be off with the old and on with the new immediately. He was not a patient man. The changeover from punch card to computer couldn’t be managed in less than three years; he’d expected it in three months. Consequently he was in a mess, and it was a mess that had cost the firm ninety thousand pounds. And it was going to cost the firm a great deal more than that if something weren’t done about it. It wasn’t going to be Middridge, sound reliable old Middridge, who would save the day, either. It was evident now that he’d ducked out of trouble pretty quickly. Hillington was no fool; he’d known who to come to.

He was beginning to repeat himself now; I looked at my watch. “My God, the conference!” I gave him what I hoped was a winning smile; computer operatives, or indeed office staff of any kind, weren’t easy to come by these days.