Almost savagely, he picked up the day's personnel cards and flipped through them carelessly. _Grimswitch, that louse_, he thought. Then he had the Idea. If Grimswitch was still chewing the fat with Morgan, then his secretary would be alone-- If he called her and asked for Grimswitch's record--no, better yet, got Miss Blanche to call-- _Why not?_ he thought. _After all, I am the Personnel Manager. Sure, it's a little irregular. He IS a department head. But it's my job, isn't it?_ Colihan flipped the inter-com and proceeded to call Miss Blanche. * * * * * His hand shook as he placed Grimswitch's card into the Personnelovac. The machine, though still heated by the day's activity, seemed to take longer than usual for its chittering, chuckling examination of the pin-holed facts on the record. Finally, it gave a satisfied burp and proffered the result to Colihan's eager hand. "Aha!" cried the personnel man gleefully. He walked over to his desk, wrote a quick note on his memo pad, and placed both note and card into an envelope. He addressed it to: OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT. Then he dropped it into the Action Chute. When it was out of sight, he rubbed his hands together in happy anticipation. * * * * * When Miss Blanche announced that President Moss himself was in Colihan's outer lobby, the Personnel Manager spent a hasty minute in straightening up the paper debris on his desk. The old man came striding into the room, exhibiting plenty of p-e-p, and he seated himself briskly on Colihan's sofa. "Sharp eyes, Ralph," he said. "Sharp eyes and a quick wit. This business demands it. That was a sharp notion you had, doing a run-through on Grimswitch. Never trusted that back-slapping fellow." Colihan looked pleased. "Trying to do a job, sir." "Put your finger on it," said Moss. "Hit the nail on the head. It's just like my father said: 'Trees go dead on the top.' Colihan--" The boss leaned forward confidentially. "I've got an assignment for you. Big assignment." "Yes, sir!" said Colihan eagerly. "If Grimswitch is a sour apple, maybe _other_ department heads are, too. And who knows? IT knows." Moss pointed a finger at the Personnelovac. "I'm rounding up all the aptitude records of the department heads. They'll be in your hands in the next couple of days. Feed 'em in! Root 'em out! Spot the deadwood, Colihan! ACT!" "ACT!" echoed Colihan, his face flushed. The old man got up and went over to the Brain. "Marvelous machine," he said. "Honest. That's what I like about it." As Moss went out the door, Colihan could have sworn he saw the Personnelovac wink. He walked over to it and fingered the lever. It was turned off, all right. * * * * * It was an interesting week for Colihan. Morgan, the production man, was fired.