himself. Even Shermancould not have done so well, to ride the Rolling Roads, not just toPittsburgh, not to the mountains, but right to Markson's backyard! Heshivered with anticipation. Pittsburgh was only a few hundred milesaway, and at three hundred miles an hour--Krenner clenched his fists incruel pleasure. He hadn't long to wait.
* * * * *
An hour passed slowly. Krenner's leg was growing stiff after theexertion of running. Still no sign of life. He eased his position, andstiffened when he heard the little relay box above the consignment sheetgive a couple of sharp clicks.
Near the end! He hugged himself in excitement. What a neat trick, toride a consignment of coal to the very yards where Markson would be! Thecoal yards which he might have owned, the furnaces, the foundry--. Therewould be men there to receive the car from the line, well he couldremember the men, day and night, working and sweating in those yards andmills! There would be men there to brake the car and empty it. He was inold clothes, farm clothes--he would fit in so well; as soon as the carslowed he could jump off, and simply join the other men. Or he couldshoot, if he had to. A little agility in getting out of the car, and alittle care in inquiring the way to Markson's office--
The car suddenly shifted to the outer lane. Krenner gripped a handle onthe inside and held tight. He felt the swerving motion, and suddenly thecar moved out of the tunnel into the open night air. He climbed up theside and peered over the edge. There were five cars in the consignment;he was on the last. Travelling almost at Road speed along the auxiliarycutoff. Swiftly they moved along through the night, through the edge ofthe Pittsburgh steel yards. Outside he fancied he could hear the rattleof machinery in the yards, the shouts of the men at their work. Makingsteel was a twenty-four hour proposition.
Then they were clear of the first set of yards. The car made anotherswitch, and Krenner's heart beat faster. A white sign along the sidesaid, "Private Property. Keep off. Markson Foundries Line." Soon nowthey would come to a crunching halt. Men would be there, but his gun wasintact. No matter how many men he met, he had to get to Markson.
The car shuddered a little, but the acceleration continued. They wererising high in the air now, above the foundries. He looked down, andcould see the mighty furnaces thrusting their slim necks to the sky.
A bolt of fear went through him. How far did the automatic system go?Automatic loading of coal from the fields, automatic switching onto theRolling Roads. Automatic transfer of cars onto a private line which ledthe cars to the foundries. Where did the automatic handling stop? Wheredid the _men_ come into it? Twenty-seven-year-old concepts slid throughhis mind, of how freight was carried, of how machines were tended, ofhow steel was made. In a world of rapidly changing technology,twenty-seven years can bring changes, in every walk of life, in everyform of production--
Even steel--
A voice from within him screamed, "Get off, Krenner, get off! This is aone way road--" He climbed quickly to the top of the car, to find aplace to jump, and turned back, suddenly sick with fear.
The car was going too fast.
The first car had moved with its load to a high point on the elevatedroad. A thundering crash came to Krenner's ears as its bottom opened todislodge its contents. Without stopping. Without men. Automatically.From below he could hear a rushing, roaring sound, and the air wassuddenly warmer than before--
The next car followed the first. And the next. Krenner scrambled to thetop of the car in rising horror as the car ahead moved serenely, jerkedsuddenly, and jolted loose its load with a crash of coal against steel.Twenty tons of coal hurtled down a chute into roaring redness--
Twenty-seven years had changed things. He hadn't heard men, for therewere no men. No men to tend the fires. Glowing, white-hot furnaces,Markson's furnaces, which were fed on a regular, unerring, mercilessconsignment belt, running directly from the Roads. Efficient,economical, completely automatic.
Krenner's car gave a jolt that threw his head against the side and shookhim down onto the coal load like a bag of potatoes. He claweddesperately for a grip on the side, clawed and missed. The bottom of thecar opened, and the load fell through with a roar, and the roar drownedhis feeble scream as Krenner fell with the coal.
The last thing he saw below, rushing up, was the glowing, blistering,white-hot maw of the blast furnace.
Consignment Page 3
