Though Sie was not God in any capital "G" sense, business is business and when the boss comes around, things had better well be up to snuff. All the Department heads and Project managers scuttled about nervously trying to ready things before Sie dropped in "unannounced" for a spot check. The visit was graciously leaked well in advance, giving time enough to sweep whatever needed to be swept under the rug.
On the day of inspection, Reality was positively gleaming. All involved felt it a worthy jewel in the Organization's crown of ever increasingly brilliant achievements. The books added up, and everything that could shine was lovingly buffed and polished. Still, the responsible parties waited and fidgeted nervously as Sie briskly entered, catching everyone completely by surprise, without fanfare and, rolling up Hir sleeves, demanded:
"Alright now, out with it. Let's see what you shiftless lot have been up to."
The veil was lifted, somewhat theatrically, and all fell silent, holding the same breath. Sie merely grunted bluntly. An ambitious technical assistant stepped forward to point out the more ingenious aspects, but-
"I know damned well what it does and can do; I designed it Myself. I'm only here to find out if you can follow a simple recipe. Look here, what's your name?"
He gulped and stammered, "Simmons. Lewis Sim-"
"Simmons, eh? Well, you've got nerve, Simmons. I like that, but shut up and keep that spineless mob out of my way."
The young functionary slinked back into the simpering huddle. Sie scowled and paced around the Machine's flashing lights and ringing bells, nodding to Hirself, consulting some private checklist. Apparently at random, Sie even reached in to adjust something and everyone gasped, ready to be fired in an instant. But Sie only grumbled absently about shoddy materials. As Sie wandered back, wiping Hir hands on Hir clothes and still squinting appraisingly at the Device, the pressure in the air eased notably. The worst was over; Sie had given Reality a thorough going over and the technicians all came through unscathed. In fact, in the back, a few even began to whisper about promotions and pay raises and -
"Just a minute... What's this?"
Sie was squatting down and peering intently at a whirring little cog.
The sphincter tension in the room increased exponentially in the ensuing silence.
Simmons shouldered forward and snapped his fingers for the schematic diagrams and blueprints. He studied them briefly, displaying his expertise and command of the situation. Sie didn't pay attention and, instead, buried Hir arm in the Machine up to Hir shoulder. Hir face was etched with an intense look of concentration.
Simmons folded the blueprints neatly under his arm.
"Ahem. I do believe You've found the -"
Sie grimaced and pulled out Hir arm. It was smudged with soot and grease from the Inner Workings. There, in Hir grimy fingers, sat a shiny little cog, sparkling like a new penny. Sie waved the Ambitious Assistant to be quiet and tossed him the gear. Sie then reached out to no one in particular and ten eagerly proffered handkerchiefs piled in Hir palm. Sie wadded them and wiped Hir hands, all the while eyeing Simmons.
"I know what it is, where it fits in, and what it does. Just tell me why is it-"
And here, the Ambitious Assistant interrupted, beaming proudly.
"Yes, my own idea," he said with a nod. Sie cocked an eyebrow.
"Ah, I see. Please do go on... what exactly was this 'idea' of yours?"
The Ambitious Assistant cleared his throat, conscious of this as his Big Break. Addressing both Sie and the jealous, dagger stares of the crowd, he began:
"Yes, well, as we were running a little short on standard [widgets] and orders for more would put the Project quite over the budget, I decided to substitute [doozits] for the needed parts."
Sie nodded thoughtfully. Simmons continued:
"Also, since we already had more [doozits] in stock than would be used, the replacement cost next to nothing. Just a few minor adjustments and the [doozits] worked perfectly. So you see, everything balanced... More than balanced, since [doozits] are superior in quality to [widgets], as everyone knows." He emphasized the obviousness of this fact with a smug glance at the others. Sie was calm, smiling even, albeit thinly.
"Simmons, I must say, that is a singularly novel idea; [doozits] for [widgets]. Why, it's almost genius."
Simmons was fit to burst. He nodded deeply.
"Thank you, I felt you would approve."
"But perhaps I'm missing something. How did you manage to reconfigure a [doozit] into a [widget]? That's the one thing that just puzzles me."
"Ahh, but see," he held up the yellow cog (the [doozit], now that its significance was known), "I didn't. It's still a [doozit]... I mean, you could put this back in it's proper context and it'd do what [doozits] do. I just filed down a few edges and now it fits into any [widget] configuration as well. It's remarkable how similar the two parts are and yet perform such distinctly different tasks."
"Yes, remarkable," Sie nodded again, very, very calmly. "And I assume, of course, that you took into account the fact that [doozits] are used wherever Awareness is needed, and that [widgets] are for purely mechanical functions; repetitive, simple, yet necessary?"
Simmons' smile faltered slightly. No, he hadn't considered that.
"Well, I merely recognized the fact that [doozits] can do anything a [widget] can do, and in a financial pinch, I was willing to sacrifice the Awareness potential- no, to use it, even, for top quality spare parts."
Hir calm started to strain, then crack. Sie moved slowly, menacingly, up to Simmons. The man suddenly seemed small and pitiful. He began to sweat and drew in his face as much as possible.
"'Spare parts'? 'Top quality... Spare PARTS?!?!!" Sie punctuated each syllable with a sharp jab at the Ambitious Assistant's chest and a fresh spray of scalding spittle. The boss flushed beet red, livid and scowling.
"Grr..."
Simmons fumbled anxiously and dropped the [doozit]. It clattered innocently between them. Sie looked down, then bent to pick it up. Sie was calm again. Simmons blinked.
"Simmons, let Me make this as plain as I can. Stop Me if I lose you." Sie thrust the cog inches away from the Ambitious Assistant's widening eyes.
"This is a [doozit]. This is not a [widget]. Clear? Are we clear on this? There are [doozits] and there are [widgets]." Sie held the cog out to the pensive crowd. The bobbed their heads emphatically; yes, yes, oh now yes we see. Someone in the back snickered and Simmons heard his name, followed by other vague terms like "crucify." He gulped again.
Sie clasped Simmons around the shoulders and gestured with the [doozit].
"I designed the Machine, Simmons. Me. This is My baby. And through no outright fault of your own, you and these other dimwits just can't conceive it all at once. You just can't. That's why you operate one section of it here, and Jones over there..." Heads turned to see this man Jones, who, no fool himself, turned his head around questioningly as well.
"... Jones, he works on another part of the Machine. That's why the Project is really a clump of smaller, simple-minded projects. Stuff I can leave to you lackeys to diddle with."
Simmons squeaked around the nervous lump in his throat, "I think I understand."
"Good. That's real good, Simmons, because I want you to understand. I don't want this to ever happen again."
"It's just that the [doozit] and the [widget] are so similar... I just figured-"
Sie hissed through Hir teeth, then addressed the crowd:
"All right, back to work; the inspection's over."
They shuffled awkwardly at first, glad to be off the hook, but eager to witness Simmons' certain demise. Sie adds rather harshly:
"Unless of course any of you are lingering to point out something I might have missed?"
Sie and Simmons were alone in seconds. Sie resumed in a confidential, ominously genial tone:
"No, that's the point; I do the thinking around here. Thinking, that's My job, okay? You, you follow orders, you stick to the blueprints, you order parts when parts need to be ordered... that's your job. There's a specific pattern at work here and it's a beautiful thing when it goes the way it should."
Sie suddenly flipped the [doozit] like a coin, catching it at it's apex.
"Take this little gear for instance. And let me explain what's wrong with your switcharoo scheme.
"The [doozits] are precision instruments, painstakingly crafted for use where Awareness is needed. In the Machine, they handle the Big Stuff, react to Change intelligently, and pretty much smooth over anything not foreseen by the Design. These things turn the big gears and effect large portions of the Machine in a single revolution.
"The [widgets], on the other hand, are the real nuts and bolts of the Device. They turn the small gears; the same small gears, over and over and over again. Stress a [widget] and it breaks down. However the [widgets] are arranged in complex webs of redundancy, so this isn't usually a problem. Before it becomes one, a [doozit] will catch it and fix it. They don't think at all, just a single reflex response is enough."
Simmons boggled fitfully, grasping at straws.
"But, but I thought these were just gears and levers. Why, you're talking about them like people, or nerves, or..." He trailed off. Sie smiled and patted him on the back.
"Metaphor. That's just a metaphor, Simmons. The cogs and flywheel bit. I told you I had to break it down into parts, simple parts that you guys could understand. I couched it in terms familiar and workable for technicians such as yourself."
Sie tucked the [doozit] into Simmons' shirt pocket.
"Suffice it to say, you can't go around plugging in [doozits] for [widgets]. It's as unworkable as [widgets] for [doozits]."
"Why? It seems to me that a [doozit] would out-perform a [widget] with no stress to the System. In fact, wouldn't a [doozit], being Aware, be better? It could adjust under stress and make the small gears just as efficient as the big ones."
Sie shook Hir head sadly.
"You know, I like you, Simmons, I really do." Sie guided them over to a dusty workbench. Nearby, an old grizzled janitor quietly pushed a broom, chasing down dustbunnies.
"It's Awareness which ruins the whole scheme. Once a [doozit] finds itself stuck in the role of a [widget], do you think it will be content to just fester away, hobbled with no chance of utilizing it's full potential?"
"Well, actually I'd never considered it from that-"
"No, of course it won't! That's the seed of discontent, Simmons; the root of all Evil. Next thing you know, the Machine jams up and you've got a monkeywrench you can't get rid of. I've seen it before, believe me. And that's the real pain of it; once you've installed it and cranked the Machine, you can't get rid of it. [Doozits] are clever and well-suited for their jobs. They can handle just about anything you throw at them. And for that reason, they practically entrench themselves in the Device. Which is all fine and dandy when everything is where it should be. But you get a single misplaced [doozit], and a bitter one at that, and you might as well scrap the whole thing."
"Hmm, why not just put in an override switch or something?"
Sie looked strangely distant, "Because then it wouldn't be a [doozit] anymore."
Sie suddenly slapped Hir thighs and stood away from Simmons. There was a flash in Hir eyes that the Ambitious Assistant didn't care for at all.
"I think you get the idea Simmons. And I do appreciate your dedication to the Project..."
Simmons felt the brief amicable air of shoptalk between colleagues evaporate. An enormous BUT loomed in the distance.
"... But I can't have everyone on the staff adding their two cents to Reality, can I? That's the point of the blueprints, the Design. No, I have to squash this insurrection now, before those with less capable minds than yours take to tinkering with the Project."
Simmons heart sank and the walls seemed to close in on him. He put up his hands, ready to protest, to beg and grovel. He would be fired, he knew it. Others nearby looked up from their desks and drafting tables to smirk and snicker. Sie was obviously making no further attempts at discretion.
"Don't say a word, Simmons. You know what you did was against the rules, against My direct orders to follow the plans. If there was a problem, you were to come to Me about it and I would deal with it."
Sie turned to the janitor who had unobtrusively shuffled away and called to him.
"Excuse Me, you sir. Yes, you... come here."
The old man eased up and leaned on his broom like a staff. He pushed his soft cap away from his face, revealing moist, sleepy eyes. He nodded to Sie blankly without a hint of recognition.
"Sorry to interrupt your duties, but I see that you are responsible for maintaining the utmost integrity of sanitation at our Facility, correct?"
The old man pondered the unusually dignified interpretation for a moment then seemed to smile to himself proudly.
"Why, I believe that's so."
"Is it a particularly demanding profession? I would think so, given the scale of our operation."
Again, the man had to think a little as if converting the conversation into another language. He scratched his jaw.
"Oh, now, I wouldn't put it like that... I manage to keep up after the mess; you folks are pretty clean as it is. Not that I'm complaining, there's always something to do."
He shrugged. Sie let the other shoe drop.
"But couldn't you be more efficient with another set of hands, an assistant? Take this young man, for instance."
The janitor looked at Simmons as if just noticing him. He appraised him with a careful, objective eye.
"Well... I suppose I could do with a helper. My back isn't what it used to be - he could wash the windows... and maybe empty the dumpster out back."
Sie snapped Hir fingers and pointed to Simmons.
"Thank you, that's all I needed to hear."
Simmons looked about, alone in his sinking ship. There was outright laughter now, bubbling around the workroom with quiet malice. Sie gently pried the broom from the janitor and tossed it to Simmons.
"I'm going to have to demote you Simmons. I knew I shouldn't have put you to work on the Project, I was warned something like this might happen. Perhaps this will straighten things out. As of now, and for the rest of your time here with the Organization, you will assist Mr. - ah, Mr..."
"Crawley," the janitor offerered, "Jacob Crawley."
Sie continued as if Sie had said it Hirself.
"... in whatever capacity he requires of you. And if I hear of any further insubordination..." Sie paused for emphasis, "... you will be summarily fired."
Sie nodded curtly to the janitor then, quite to everyone's surprise, spun around and stormed out of the room.
The janitor sucked in his teeth and pulled his cap back down on his head. He gestured to Simmons.
"Well, glad to have you, son. And you can still call me Jake, everybody does."
He took the broom easily from Simmons' limp fingers.
"Come on now, don't just stand there with your mouth all open like that... There's work to be done."
He rummaged through his pockets and handed the Ambitious Assistant a hefty key.
"This will get you into my office, down behind the stairs. Go and fetch my spare broom - the push broom mind you." Simmons dumbly plodded off, his world having gone quite hazy. He was waiting to bolt upright, screaming in his bed. This was all just a particularly bad nightmare. He dropped the key into his shirt pocket where it clinked softly. That damnned [doozit].
He pulled it out and studied it closely. Through the shine on its surface, he saw vague images of massive ball bearings rolling around the device's own inner workings. The Awareness stunted, filed down. Forever trying to extend itself, and yet always frustrated by the limits of it's very nature. Like the swirl of colors on a soap bubble, the manic flow of raw potential trapped to constricting dimensions. And suddenly, Simmons felt terribly wronged, cheated. Sie hadn't given his idea a fair chance. Based on what Sie said, was it better to let good [doozits] go to waste, collecting dust in their packages, unused? A [doozit] would rather do a [widget's] job than no job at all, wouldn't it? Besides, what's one [doozit] among nine or ten [widgets]? Even if a tenth of the [widgets] were replaced with the otherwise unused [doozits], the Device was bound to be more efficient and capable.
And so on and so forth, Simmons reasoned, and the more he thought about it, the more wronged he felt. He looked about, no one was paying him much attention anymore. The show was over and there was much work to be done in the Office. Even the janitor had vanished somewhere with his broom. Simmons tipped over to the Machine, for the time being veiled and forgotten. He ducked under the large sheet and proceeded to re-insert the [doozit].
Someone tapped him on the shoulder through the cover and dropped a small cardboard box at his heels.
"Here you are Simmons. We had to clear out your desk for workspace. The stuff's here in the box." Simmons peered out from under the hem at two scuffed leather shoes. He mumbled a 'Thanks' to which the shoes just snickered.
"Yeah well, tough break, eh?" they said snidely and walked away. Simmons breathed a sigh of relief; nobody cared what he was doing... he was Simmons the Janitor's Assistant now. He pulled the ragged box under the sheet and fumbled through it. He almost gave a whoop of delight as he found the opened package of [doozits] he kept in his drawers. The idiots didn't even recognize them. He emptied the clear plastic bag into his hand. Two. Five. Eight. A few more. Not a full bag, but enough to start. He could pilfer more from the supply room later. No one would notice, he was Nobody now. Hell, he could refill the empty bags with [widgets]. By the time anyone realized the switch, the Machine would be functional, up and running, and then it would be too late. He seized a small wrench and pliers, then tittered maniacally, replacing all the [widgets] within reach.
He could almost see each [doozit] blink, coming to life.