Yuri sat in front of the main control panel, and scanned the settings and the dials. All was in order for the start-up. He then turned to the logbook while his mind began eagerly to anticipate the nine A.M. morning break. It was one of Yuri’s favorite times of day, even though it was only a half hour. He could almost taste the fresh coffee and bread.

With his gloved finger Yuri traced across the columns of figures to make sure that the pulverizers had worked smoothly during the last shift they’d operated. All seemed to be in order until he came to the column containing the readings for the negative air pressure inside the unit. As his eye traced across the page he noticed that the pressure had slowly risen as the shift progressed. He wasn’t concerned, because the rise was small and the readings had stayed within acceptable limits.

Yuri glanced down to the bottom of the page where the shift supervisor summarized the shift’s events. The slight rise in pressure was duly noted with the notation that maintenance had been informed. Below that entry was another by maintenance. The time was listed as two A.M. It said simply that the unit had been checked and the cause of the slight rise in pressure had been discovered and had been rectified.

Yuri shook his head. The maintenance entry was strange because there was no explanation of what the cause had been. Yet it didn’t seem to matter. The readings had never been abnormal. Yuri shrugged. He didn’t think maintenance’s incomplete entry was his concern, especially since the problem, whatever it was, had been rectified.

When Yuri felt all was in order, he picked up the telephone that connected him to the day shift supervisor, Vladimir Ger-giyev. He looked at his watch. It was just before seven A.M. and soon his mother and brother would be getting up.

“The pulverizers are standby, Comrade Gergiyev,” Yuri said.

“Commence operation,” Vladimir said tersely before ringing off.

Yuri had intended to mention the strange log entry, but his supervisor’s abruptness prevented it. Yuri hung up the phone and for a brief moment debated calling back. Unfortunately, Vladimir’s truculent personality did not encourage such spontaneity. Yuri decided to let it go.

Without the slightest idea of the horrific consequences, Yuri depressed the start button on the pulverizers. Almost instantaneously the jarring sound of the machinery penetrated the insulated control room. The day’s production of deadly weaponized anthrax had begun.

The system was automatic. The cakes of dried spores were carried on an internal conveyer and dropped into the rotating steel pulverizer drums. After being ground by the cascading steel balls, the fine powder dropped out the base of the drums and was packed into sealed containers. The outsides of the containers were then disinfected. The completed containers could then be loaded into ordnance or into missile warheads.

Yuri’s eyes went immediately to the interior pressure dial. The pressure dropped instantly with the commencement of the unit. Even the slight misgiving he felt due to the strange log entry evaporated when the pressure continued to fall past the slightly elevated level it had been when the unit had been shut down. It was obvious that maintenance had indeed rectified the problem as had been suggested.