Noel M. Loomis

“ Arturius shouted. "It can't even turn over—with those cams broken out."
"She's chastened," High-Pockets said gently. "All you have to do from now on is to be firm."
The judge came closer. "Mr. Jones," he said, "I am beginning to believe that even a linotype operator has a place in this modern world. Suppose we all three go out and have a drink."
High-Pockets turned off the motor. "I heard you the first time, Your Honor, and I am happy to report that there are no extenuating circumstances. Shall we go?" ”

“ He held up the ejector lug while High-Pockets pulled the clutch lever and let the machine go on over.
Arturius had to loosen the mold-cap to get the slug out. Then he stood back for High-Pockets to sit down. But by this time High-Pockets had awakened. He looked hard at the copy and whispered to himself, "Oh-oh, no wonder. We've got society. Don't blame her." He told Arturius he had to get a drink. When he came back, Arturius was gone, and very quietly High-Pockets went over to No. 8 and set the type.
His next take was a nice piece of telegraph on green copy paper. "She ought to like this." ”

“ Jones. If a machine assumes the right of self-determination, what would be more natural than to treat it as you would treat any other self-determining creature?"
High-Pockets heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. He saw now that his stay in the city would not be terminated as a guest in the workhouse. High-Pockets was very happy indeed.
"How can you be sure?" Arturius demanded.
"I'll show you," said High-Pockets. "Turn on the motor."
Arturius did. A strange thing happened. No. 7 began to turn. She pulled herself off of the cast. Somehow she broke loose the hardened metal on her vise-jaws. ”

“ I think maybe it's a negative charge, and I think most men are charged positively with that same force, so that men get along well with machines. Opposite poles attract, you know."
Arturius Wickware sputtered, but now High-Pockets had to go on. "Sometimes a man comes along who happens to be negatively charged, and he can't handle a piece of machinery at all. ”

“ High-Pockets waited in dread. He had a premonition that this wasn't even going to be a nice jail sentence where he could meditate and reflect on his strange power over linotypes. This was going to be the workhouse. The situation was desperate indeed.
"You profess to be a barnstormer and a student of mechanical nature." The judge smiled sarcastically. "I can offer you an unusual opportunity for research. As an old proofreader, I occasionally help out on the Daily News, and it has come to my attention that there is a linotype on the News known as No. ”

“ They say that man is the master of any machine
he can devise. But whoever coined the phrase didn't
know about this linotype—with a mind of its own....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
July 1952
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The judge reared back. High-Pockets waited. "In my opinion," his honor began a little ambiguously, "a linotype operator is very near the bottom of the scale of humanity. There is only one person who stands beneath him. ”

“ He put the copy in the holder and got ready to massage the keyboard. But he'd just got his arms folded up and his fingers stretched out when the mats began to drop into the assembling elevator. They dropped with perfect timing. The assembling elevator filled and High-Pockets' eyes began to gleam. "She'll have to wait for me to send the line in," he thought. But old No. 7 wouldn't be denied. The elevator went up, the line went in, the elevator came down, and mats started dropping again. High-Pockets got up and went to a window. ”

“ He put the want ads on the copy board and went for a drink of water. He was dry again, anyway. He took plenty of time, and then came back and confidently picked up a take slug.
But he got a jolt when he looked at the stick. It was empty.
High-Pockets nodded wisely. "So it doesn't like want ads any better than anybody else," he said to himself. "Now, that's a dirty shame."
He got all folded in and started to operate. But at the first letter he touched, the keyboard belt broke. He called Arturius and had it fixed, and tried again. The mats jammed up in the chute. ”

“ High-Pockets' blue eyes opened wide. "Maybe its negative field was reversed by some stray rays from the pile, and then when the lightning hit it, it intensified the field so that the machine is now strongly positive. You know how it is," he said earnestly. "A body illuminated by ultraviolet light becomes positively charged, and even a hot body becomes positively charged by what they call thermionic emission. Well, that's okay. A linotype is exactly like a woman. It has a soul—if you know how to reach it."
Old Arturius snorted so loudly the electric relay on No. ”

“ He tightened the vise-locking screws and leaned over to look at the line, down in the jaws, to be sure the mats were in alignment before he pulled the clutch. And just then the right hand locking stud came loose with a snap and spun clockwise, and the cross-handle cracked him on the chin.
High-Pockets took it like a man. He didn't even swear this time. He got out of his chair. "I will see if that line is all right," he muttered. "If I don't—" ”

“ He looked down and saw the crowd around him and decided he owed them an explanation. "My theory is that any piece of machinery is electrified by some force that I call personal electricity. I don't exactly know what that is but it seems to bind the piece of machinery as a whole. ”