The Glitch In Sleep Part 8

He whipped out a busted-up old Tool. It was caked with dirt and looked like it hadn't been used in years.

"What kind of contraption is that?" asked the Foreman.

"It's a Glitchometer!"

Glitchometers had been all the rage in the days before Clean Sweep, but they had been discontinued due to serious design flaws and now were mostly collectibles or sold at antique Tool fairs.

"Where on earth did you get it?" asked Becker, impressed.

"I didn't get it on earth! I got it from my grandfather's Toolkit. He's got all kinds of wacky junk." Simly's paternal grandfather was regarded as one of the greatest Briefers who ever lived, and though he had never made it to Fixer, he had a.s.sisted on many a famous Mission. Simly fired up the Tool and it sprang to life, the sensitive needle flipping back and forth, before zeroing itself. "Glitchometers focus in directly on the unique energy trail left by a Glitch, and when activated, should take us right-"

But black smoke began to cough out the sides, along with an awful sc.r.a.ping sound, forcing Simly to shut it down before it blew up in his hands.

"Sorry, boss. I don't know what happened." Simly was dejected, especially considering he prided himself on Tool prep and deployment. "Do you want me to call my grandpa and see if he can-"

"Don't sweat it, Simly." Becker rolled up the blueprints and stuffed them in his Toolkit. "We'll do this the old-fashioned way."

The Snooze, Department of Sleep, The Seems Deep in the sub-bas.e.m.e.nt of the factory was where they manufactured Snooze-one of the three key ingredients (along with Refreshment and Twinkle) that were mixed to create Sleep itself. Since this was where the Glitch was last sighted, it was here that Becker and Simly began their investigation.

The air was hot and thick with the smell of burning rubber. Men with smocks and welding visors loaded pure Exhaustion into smelting pots while mechanized arms dropped mola.s.ses and maple syrup from gargantuan soup ladles. Once cooled, the gelatinous mess congealed into a thick taffylike substance, which was then cut into chunks and shipped to the Master Bedroom for final mixing.

"No, no, no, no no!" A rosy-cheeked man in a chef 's outfit was sampling the batch. "Zis is too sweet!"

The Snoozemaster had been promoted from "Sous" all the way to "Chef de Cuisine" because of his instinct for how to make Sleep even tastier, but his bombastic personality had ruffled a few feathers along the way.

"What do you want from me?" cried one of the Tireless Workers. "The Glitch threw off our entire recipe!"

"Gleech, Gleech, Gleech! I no want to hear no more about zis Gleech!" The Snoozemaster kicked over a row of pots and pans, while beside him, Becker waited patiently for the temper tantrum to subside.

"So tell me again how it started?"

"I get call into ze office, on a night when I have tickets to Ze Snorchestra no less, and what do I findz? All ze recipes for ze Snooze are, how you say, ba.s.s ackwards!"

The master pressed the Snooze b.u.t.ton and rebooted his computer, which printed Becker a list of recipes that had all been mixed and matched.

"Coffee beans are being blended with Pizzazz. Cinnamon with ze Mope. I told zese idiots from day one not computerize ze cookbooks. We makes zis by hand since back in ze Day, and ze system need no Fixing!"

Becker shook his head. One of the great frustrations of Fixing was the tendency of the Powers That Be to layer "quick fixes" on top of the existing technology, rather than fess up to the need for a page one redesign. "Give me a second, okay?"

"Everybody stand back," announced Briefer Frye. "Give the man some s.p.a.ce!"

Becker closed his eyes, and using the old-fashioned way, reached out with his 7th Sense to hone in on the Glitch. Judging from the goose b.u.mps that sprouted up along his arms, he had picked up the trail, but it was still faint. Sense to hone in on the Glitch. Judging from the goose b.u.mps that sprouted up along his arms, he had picked up the trail, but it was still faint.

"I wish I could stay to help rewrite your recipes," apologized Becker, "but I have to get my hands around this thing before it trashes the whole department."

The Snoozemaster understood but still appeared quite shaken.

"But what about ze Snooze? Sleep cannot be mixed wizout ze precious Snooze!"

Becker stepped over to a vat, dipped his finger in the sludge, and took a sample taste.

"It's almost there. Maybe an Energy reduction would enhance the flavor of the underlying Exhaustion?"

"No, no, no. Zis is crazy. It will never work . . ." Simly and the Tireless Workers dropped their eyes to the floor. "Unless . . . "

"A little bit of Love?" Becker seemed to read his mind.

"Exactly!"

A spark shot through the room.

"Can you do it in time?" the Fixer asked hopefully.

"Not only can I," bellowed the Snoozemaster, turning toward his line cooks with fire in his eyes. "But it shall be ze heaviest, most satisfying Snooze anyone in Ze World has ever seen!"

A roar went up among the Tireless Workers, but as they scrambled to gather the necessary ingredients, Simly couldn't resist taking a taste for himself.

"Needs paprika."

WDOZ, Department of Sleep, The Seems "W . . . D . . . O . . . Zzzzzzzzzz."

Becker's goose b.u.mps had led them to a small radio station on the roof of the department and while the jingle lingered in the air, he and Simly waited for the disc jockey to finish up his act.

"And that was 'The Sound of Rain Outside Your Window on a Lazy Afternoon,' by the Somnambulists . . . an oldie but goodie, designed designed to ease your to ease your mind mind into the soft, sweet paradise of Sleep." into the soft, sweet paradise of Sleep."

WDOZ had been established to broadcast soft tones to the subconscious minds of the people of The World-helping them to relax in preparation for the arrival of their Good Night's Sleep. The DJ pulled another forty-five from the library in the booth.

"Up next, I've got a fresh take on a deep cut from back in the Day . . . " He put the needle to the record, which was ent.i.tled "The Hum of the Air Conditioner (Remix)." "My name is Johnny Zzzzzzzzzzz and you've been listening to WDOZ, greasing the hinges on the ol' inner doorway since 13303."

As the record began to spin, the balding, pony-tailed jock lowered the volume and exited the booth to join Becker and Simly.

"Look, brother"-his off-air personality was a far cry from his on-air one-"I don't know what anyone told you, but there ain't no Glitch in my my station." station."

"I'm not here to blame anybody," Becker a.s.sured him. "It's just that Glitches can be tricky. Maybe it got into the board."

"A Glitch got into the board?" The DJ shook his head, insulted, then pulled out a pair of headphones and jacked them into the slot. "Be my guest."

Becker gave Simly the okay to put the phones on, and Johnny Z cranked up the volume on what was being broadcast to The World that very moment. In a matter of seconds, Simly's eyelids started to get heavy and he began to make s.p.a.ce for himself on the floor.

"See? The Z-man never fails."

This guy reminded Becker of Joel Waldman-a kid from Highland Park who had a major att.i.tude problem-but the Fixer still wasn't convinced. He reached into his Toolkit and pulled out a dog-eared copy of the one book that every Fixer cannot do without.

Its official name was The Compendium of Malfunction & Repair, The Compendium of Malfunction & Repair, but everyone who had one called it "the Manual" and (as promised in the foreword) it contained "Everything You Need to Know to Fix." Becker turned to chapter 6, "Schematics and Blueprints," and quickly found the page for WDOZ. but everyone who had one called it "the Manual" and (as promised in the foreword) it contained "Everything You Need to Know to Fix." Becker turned to chapter 6, "Schematics and Blueprints," and quickly found the page for WDOZ.

"Can I take a look at the Incapacitator?"

"What the heck is that?" The Z-man may have been the Program Director, but he obviously had no clue about the inner workings.

"It's the node that translates your records into frequencies that people in The World can hear."

"Just make it quick, bro. I got a show to run here."

Following the Manual's instructions, Becker flipped open the board and tunneled his way to the core of the circuitry. In the middle of a bunch of tangled wires was a small transistor, through which all of WDOZ's signals had to travel. Just as he had suspected, it was burned to a crisp and Becker bypa.s.sed the hub to reveal what was actually being piped out to audiences worldwide.

"Ahhh!" Simly yanked off the headphones, suddenly wide awake. "It sounds like grinding gears mixed with a screaming baby cow."

"I wish I could say I was surprised," said Fixer Drane. "Only one thing could have done this kind of damage in that amount of time . . . but it's already long gone."

Johnny Z looked contrite and tried to pull his tail from between his legs.

"Do you think you can Fix it?"

Cafeteria, Department of Sleep, The Seems Becker skillfully replaced the toasted Incapacitator with the newer, faster Zonker 111, but the Glitch had not stopped there. It was cutting a swath through the entire department, jumping from Bedroom to Bedroom and machine to machine, and each of the elements of Sleep was beginning to break down.

Fresh-baked Yawns were coming out of the oven, yet they had failed to adequately rise. Wake-Up Calls were being sent too early, Bedtime Stories were churned out with little or no Inspiration, and the Sack was being hit to virtually no effect at all. Even Pillow Frosting was coating the other side of people's pillows with Hot instead of Cool.

Along the way, Becker and Simly were Fixing like madmen, but this was the rub of hunting a Glitch: the subtle and complex trail of devastation it left behind could only be handled by a Fixer (and Briefer), yet the attention that had to be given to that trail made it nearly impossible to gain any ground.

Exhausted and soaked with sweat, the partners took a break at the Employee Cafeteria, where three Wake-Up Call Operators were comforting each other after having come face-to-face with the nasty root of all the evening's troubles.

"It was terrible," cried a blue-haired old lady. "It blew up my entire switchboard."

Her friends nodded sadly and brushed the ash from their coworker's frazzled bouffant.

"There, there, Shirley. A Fixer is here now and it'll all be over soon."

Becker and Simly glanced at each other, then immediately got back to business.

"I still don't understand why it doesn't work." The Glitcho-meter was splayed out on the lunch table before them.

"Don't worry about it," answered Becker, rereading the "Bleeps, Blips, and Blunders" chapter of his Manual for any clues on how to proceed. "And eat your midnight snack, cause we're gonna need all the energy we can get once we find this thing."

Simly nodded and pulled out a brown paper bag that had been packed by his mom. There were carrots and celery wrapped in plastic, hardboiled eggs, and even a slice of Dazzleberry Pie.16 "So how does it feel to finally make it to Fixer?"

"Pretty cool, I guess." Becker took a bite of his PowerBar and continued to leaf through the text. "A little more pressurized, though."

Simly was in the mood to chat (as usual) but Becker had larger things on his mind-not least of which was his gnawing concern over whether this was another offensive by The Tide. A recent memo from Central Command had warned all Fixers about the growing dangers of this insurrection, and Becker ran down the list of recent strikes in his mind. This incident certainly bore similarities to the night a horde of fruit flies was unleashed into the Grapevine, shorting out interdepartmental communications, but The Tide always left its calling card- the symbol of the black cresting wave-and, as of yet, no such thing had been found.

"I want to be a Fixer someday."

"What was that?"

"I said I want to be a Fixer too. Like you."

"You do?"

This was surprising to Becker because Simly was born in The Seems, and though humans and Seemsians are similar in almost every regard, they differ in one important detail. Seemsians aren't born with a Fixer's greatest a.s.set, a 7th Sense, which is why they almost always top out at Briefer. Sense, which is why they almost always top out at Briefer.

"Yeah, I know there's the whole 7th Sense issue . . . but my grandpa always said I was gonna be the first one in the family to make it all the way." Sense issue . . . but my grandpa always said I was gonna be the first one in the family to make it all the way."

"Well, you're very good at what you do, that's for sure. And as far as the 7th Sense thing goes, did you ever read Sense thing goes, did you ever read The Journal of Al Penske The Journal of Al Penske?"

"You mean the Toolmaster?" asked Simly. "Yeah, I read it. But there's nothing in there about-"

"If you look in appendix C, he tells this really cool story about how he found his 7th Sense by pretending he was born in The World and visualizing how he might feel if 'something was wrong' in The Seems." Sense by pretending he was born in The World and visualizing how he might feel if 'something was wrong' in The Seems."

"Really?" Simly's eyes brightened up momentarily. "Have you ever heard of that actually working?"

"No. But that doesn't mean it's not worth a shot."

Becker could tell that Simly wasn't quite buying it but that he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"Can I ask you one more thing, sir?"

It was still kind of weird for Becker to be referred to as "sir," especially by someone fifteen years older than he.

"Call me Becker, Sim."

"That girl in Sector 104?"

"Jennifer Kaley?"

"Yeah. How come you chose her to be your Mission Inside the Mission? Instead of all the other Cases?"

Becker thought it over. Of course Jennifer's situation was compelling and she was pretty and all that, but it was more just the feeling he got when he saw her. Sometimes things like that are hard to put into words, and usually best left that way.

"I don't know. There was just something about her." Becker looked up at Simly. "Why, who would you have chosen?"

"I think the guy in the motel. The salesman. I just really hope he gets home in time for his daughter's birthday."

"Then you can Fix for him and I can Fix for her. Cool?"

"Cool."

They each packed up their Toolkit and Briefcase respectively, then Becker took a peek at the clock on the cafeteria wall.

"C'mon, I think I've got an idea . . . "

Pillowstone Lane, Department of Sleep, The Seems On the east side of Sleep, near Shuteye's Shoe Repair, was a small nightclub that had become an inst.i.tution in The Seems. Here, people from every department would gather to blow off steam, and Becker thought he might be able to find someone in the Know.

"I don't know about this, sir."

"Shhhh!"