Free Polymath by John Brunner Page A

laughing and joking with a gang of Fritch’s men who were waiting for replacement accumulators for their power-tools.
    Inland again there was a noise of sawing punctuated by crashes. Timber being felled. He could just discern a line of yellow trunks drying in the sun. The odd-shaped whitish forms of fishingbirds rested on them like wilting flowers. Their gummy black droppings were all over the beach—not to mention the roofs and, worse still, the pathways of the town. They were becoming a distinct nuisance, and some means would have to be found to frighten them away.
    “I wonder where those birds go for the winter,” Lex murmured. “Maybe we should follow their example.”
    Aldric gave a harsh laugh. “Won’t do us much good,” he said. “One of Bendle’s people told me about them. They aren’t migratory. They encapsulate—secrete a kind of gelatinous shell for themselves—and spend the winter stuck to the rocks. They thought they were eggs at first, but the eggs are being laid now.”
    Lex nodded absently; the list of curious habits among the local fauna was too long already for him to be surprised. Besides, he had been carefully educated to expect the unexpected. He said, “Well, if heat’s our only problem, we can either develop the siesta habit as Cheffy suggests—which won’t be as hard as you make out, if you remember that the midsummer days are very long—or else plan a secondary program of jobs for everyone thatthey can fill in with in the shade for an hour or two either side of noon.”
    “I don’t think a change of work is the answer,” Aldric said. “It’s a question of—well, frayed tempers. Look I gave Rothers a job to keep him sweet, melting down scrap in a solar furnace, with half a dozen assistants under him. I thought a bit of petty authority would satisfy him.”
    “It didn’t?”
    “It did not. He had an argument with one of his helpers, lost his temper, hit the guy—knocked him against the back of the furnace-mirror and bent it clear out of shape. That’s why it isn’t out here working. I had to detail my two best handymen to restore the curvature. Meantime Rothers is snarling at everyone and slowing down my work.”
    He made a gesture that embraced the entire field of view. “All this looks great. Signs of progress. But underneath it’s ready to explode.”
    “You don’t have to tell me.” Lex sighed. “And I go right along with your point that a change of work won’t be enough. It’s about time we cheered ourselves up somehow—sort of congratulated ourselves on our marvelous achievements. I’ll talk to Jerode about it, make a report to the next assembly. Initiate some hobbies, perhaps, stimulate competition, provide a few luxuries…. I’ve been wondering about music. We could handcraft some instruments, I guess.”
    “Just so long as somebody’s thinking about the problem,” Aldric said. “I have too much to do to waste time worrying. Just thought I’d tell you.”
    Yes, Lex thought, the physical problems could be overcome. Given the rest of the summer, the town could be made moderately comfortable, twice as warm as last winter, with far more room for people to spread out. The food problem was almost licked. There was adequate water. Clothing was still a difficulty, but it was amazing how long fraying fabrics could be made to hold together. Besides, in this heat everyone preferred to wear the minimum.
    A point struck him. He glanced toward Delvia again. Yes, Naline was there. While Fritch’s men were loading up with charged accumulators, she was keeping her backturned so she wouldn’t have to watch Delvia laughing and chatting.
    It hadn’t come to an explosion yet—but it would. Damn Delvia! Her old tabard was becoming a collection of rags linked by threads; instead of darning it like the other girls she had reduced it to a kind of kilt, thereby proving that she possessed the handsomest bust among the refugees.
    And yet she was a tough and reliable worker