"Not only read, typed. And corrected the style. Hausbotcher's no writer, and he only learned to read here... Incidentally, ducky," she said, solicitously, "Hausbotcher is waiting out there in the anteroom, see him during breakfast, he likes that. He'll do your sandwiches for you..."
"I sent him packing!" said Pepper. "Just you explain to me what I ..."
"You shouldn't send Hausbotcher packing," put in Alevtina. "You're still my little ducky, you still don't know anything." She pressed Pepper's nose like a button. "Hausbotcher has two notepads. In one he writes who said what - for the director - in the other he notes down what the director said. Ducky, you remember that and don't go forgetting."
"Wait," said Pepper. "I want your advice. That Directive ... I'm not signing crazy stuff like that."
"How do you mean not?"
"What I say. My hand won't move - to sign anything like that."
Alevtina's face became stern.
"Ducky," she said. "Now don't get obstinate. Just sign. It's very urgent. I'll explain it all to you later, but now ..."
"What's there to explain?" asked Pepper.
"Well if you don't understand, it means you need an explanation. So that's what I'll do later."
"No, explain it now," Pepper said. "If you can," he added. "Which I doubt."
"Ooh, then, my little one," said Alevtina and kissed him on the temple. She glanced at her watch concernedly. "Well, fine, all right."
She shifted her seat to the table, placed her hands beneath her and began, her screwed-up eyes fixed above Pepper's head.
"Administrative work exists as the basis of all else. This work didn't come into being today or yesterday, the vector has its base back in the depths of time. At present it is embodied in existing orders and directives. But it extends far into the future too, and there it waits for its embodiment. It's like laying a highway through a section already marked off, where the asphalt ends and the surveyor stands with his back to the finished section looking into his theodolite.
"That surveyor is you. The imaginary line traveling along the optical axis of the theodolite is the unrealized administrative vector which only you of all people can see and to which it is your duty to give substance. Do you follow?"
"No," Pepper said firmly.
"Doesn't matter, keep listening... Just as the highway can't turn as it pleases to left or right, but has to follow the optical axis of your theodolite, just so every directive must be a continuation of all those preceding it... Ducky, sweety, don't probe into it, I don't understand anything about it myself, but that's good really, because probing stirs up doubts, doubts make people mark time, and marking time is the death of administrative activity, consequently yours, mine and every...
"That's elementary. Not a single day without a Directive and everything will be all right. This Directive on procedure, now - it doesn't exist in vacuo, it's tied up with the preceding Directive on nonabsence, and that was linked with the Order on nonpregnancy, and that Order flowed logically from the Injunction on excessive indignation, and that ..."
"What the hell!" said Pepper. "Show me these injunctions and orders. No, better show me the very first order, the one in the depths of time."
"Now why do you need that?"
"What do you mean, 'why'? You say they stem logically. I don't believe that!"
"Ducky," said Alevtina. "You'll see all that. I'll show you all that. You'll read it all with your dear little short-sighted eyes. But realize, there was no directive day before yesterday and none yesterday if you don't count a petty little order about capturing a machine and that was by word of mouth... What do you think, how long can the Directorate exist without directives? Since yesterday morning it's all been a mix-up: some people are walking around everywhere changing burned-out bulbs, imagine? No, ducky, you do as you like, but the Directive has to be signed. I'm on your side, you know. You just sign it straight off, do the conference with the group leaders, tell them something encouraging, then I'll bring you everything you want. You can read, study, probe ... better if you don't probe though."
Pepper took hold of his cheeks and rocked his head. Alevtina briskly jumped down from the table, dipped a pen into Venus' skull and held the stem toward Pepper.
"Well write, sweetie, just a quick one..."
Pepper took the pen.
"But I'll be able to cancel the thing later?" he asked fretfully.
"Of course, ducky, of course," said Alevtina, and Pepper knew she lied. He hurled the pen away. "No," he said. "No, never. I won't sign that. Why the hell should I sign lunacy like that when there's probably dozens of sensible and useful orders, and instructions, absolutely essential, really necessary in this bedlam..."
"For example?" asked Alevtina briskly.
"Good lord... Well, anything you like ... hell's bells. Well, what about ..."
Alevtina got out her notepad.
