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Back The Tin Men Save as PDF
Chapters (41)
  1. By the Same Author
  2. Copyright
  3. Introduction by the Author
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. About the Author

‘As a matter of fact I often think to myself, “If only some of these things could talk, what a tale they’d have to tell!” I mean, take that little hammer with the ivory handle over there, sir. It’s a special lightweight model made for the Dowager Marchioness of Menai, when she was laying the foundation stone of the new gymnasium at her old school. She’s very frail, you know. Or look at that golden spade in the corner. That was used by Lord Frome to plant a memorial oak in the Fellows’ Garden at the Andover Presbyterian Seminary in 1927. He was eighty-four at the time, and he rose from his sick-bed to do it. And within a week, sir, he was – dead.

‘Think of the doors that have been opened with these golden keys, sir! Think of all the cakes these ceremonial swords have cut! Incidentally, sir, if you see anything you would like demonstrated we have a demonstration theatre fully equipped with a foundation stone, a cake, a ship’s prow . . .

‘That, sir? That’s the gold-plated starting-pistol with which Sir Robert Gumble started the Mandated Territories Games in 1936 . . . That’s the silver microphone through which Rock Richmond sang the thousandth song published by the Cathedral Music Publishing Company . . . the silver corkscrew used by General Sir Roderick Talltrouser at the bicentenary of Brown’s Club . . . the silver-gilt penny with which Horace Walpole inaugurated Croydon’s new public lavatories in 1921 . . . the solid gold starting-­handle with which the King of Rumania started the first Austin Seven to be sold in Bucharest . . . the diamond fuse-pin out of the grenade with which Mussolini opened the invasion of Abyssinia . . .’

Haugh was entranced. He ordered the ‘Balmoral’ scissors, a jewelled switch, a silver-gilt trowel, a length of golden chain of unspecified purpose, a golden key, and a gas-fired golden taper with which ex-Princess Beatrice of Swabia once lit a flame of undying remembrance to the cows and sheep which fell gloriously in the municipal abattoir at West Wandsworth.

20

20

When he was tired and teleological, Goldwasser sometimes believed he could discern a purpose in Nobbs’s existence. It was to keep him, Goldwasser, in his place by counterbalancing the inherent simplicity of his work in the Newspaper Department, compared with that of his colleagues in all the other departments.

They were all handicapped by the fact that even the biggest known computer has only a fraction of the capacity and complexity of the human brain. Goldwasser was not. The human brains he was replacing, he discovered as he analysed the newspaper files, suffered from neither capacity nor complexity. Or if they did, they didn’t let it interfere with their work. As if foreseeing the limited intellects of the digital computers which would one day replace them, they had introduced the most drastic simplifications into their work already.