The Weathermakers (1967) Read Online Free Page A

guide me.”
    The tour took the remainder of the morning. The building was much larger than it appeared from the outside, and even had an annex out back where the shops and maintenance equipment were kept. Barney showed me the laboratories where men and women were studying the nature of air at various pressures and temperatures—its chemical composition, the way it absorbs heat energy, the effects of water vapor, dust particles, and thousands of other things. Then we went through the theoretical section, on our way down to the electronic computers.
    “The theoreticians aren’t much to see,” she told me as we passed their cubbyhole office. “They sit at their desks and write equations that we have to solve down at the computations center.”
    The computations area was impressive. Row upon row of massive computer consoles, chugging away, tapes spinning in their spools, girls scurrying, print-out typers spewing out long folding sheets of incomprehensible numbers and symbols.
    “This is where I work,” Barney said over the noise of the machines. “I’m a mathematician.”
    I had to laugh. “For a not-very-highly-organized person, you certainly picked an odd occupation.”
    “I’m only disorganized with people,” she said. “The computers are different. I get along fine with the big machines. They don’t get impatient, don’t have tempers. They’re strictly logical, you can tell what they’re going to do next, what they need. They’re a lot easier to get along with than people.”
    “They sound pretty dull,” I said.
    “Well, some people are more exciting than others,” she admitted.
    “This place,” I said, watching the girls who were attending the machines, “looks like a meteorologist’s harem.” Barney nodded. “There’ve been lots of little romances blossoming here. I’ve often said we wouldn’t have half so many men from the staff coming over here with requests for special programming if we had male programmers.”
    “Girls work cheaper, I guess.”
    “And better, as far as detail and accuracy are concerned,” Barney said firmly.
    “Sorry . . . I spoke before I thought. It’s a bad habit of mine. I didn’t mean to imply—”
    “It’s all right,” she said, smiling.
    To change the subject, I said, “I met a Dr. Barneveldt last night. Is he your father or grandfather or . . .”
    “Uncle,” Barney answered. “Jan Barneveldt. He received the Nobel Prize for his work on the physical chemistry of air. He developed the first cloud-seeding chemicals that work on non-supercooled clouds.”
    It sounded important, even though I hadn’t the faintest idea of what she was talking about.
    “My father is Hannes Barneveldt; he and my mother are at the Stromlo Observatory in South Africa.”
    “Astronomers.”
    “Father is. Mother’s a mathematician. They work together.”
    I had to smile. “Then you’re following in your mother’s footsteps.”
    “Yes, that’s right . . . Come this way.” She took my arm and guided me through the ranks of computer consoles. “There’s something no guided tour would be complete without.”
    We stepped through a door into darkness. Barney shut the door behind us and the din of the computers was cut off. The room was cool and softly quiet. Only gradually, as my eyes adjusted to the low lighting level, did I realize what was there.
    I heard myself gasp.
    We were standing before a twenty-foot-high viewscreen that showed the entire western hemisphere. I could make out the North and South American continents clearly, even though clouds obscured broad stretches of land and sea. The Arctic glittered dazzlingly, and the sweep of colors—blue, green, red, white—was literally breathtaking.
    On the other side of the room, the other side of the world: Europe, Africa, Asia, the broad Pacific, covered in their entirety by two more viewscreens.
    “This never fails to awe people,” Barney said softly. “Including me, no matter how often I see it.”
    “It’s