During the inception of Nordenholt’s scheme, my own work had dealt with varied lines of activity which brought me into contact with diverse departments of the machine; but when the transfer to the Clyde Valley took place, I settled down into more definite duties. Nordenholt had picked me out, I believe, on the strength of my knowledge of factory organisation; and my first post in the North dealt with this branch. Thus in the earlier days, my work took me into the machine-shops and yards where the heavy machinery was being built or remodelled; and so I came into direct contact with the human element.
But as time went on, the range of my control increased; and as my work extended I had to delegate this section more and more to my subordinates. I became, through a gradual series of transitions, the checker of efficiency over most of the Area activities.
The undercurrent of all my memories of that time is a series of curves. Graphs of coal-supply from each pit, so that the fluctuation of output might be controlled and investigated; graphs of furnace-production from day to day, whereby all might be kept up to concert-pitch; graphs comparing one process with another in terms of power and efficiency; graphs of workmen’s ages and effectiveness; graphs of total power-consumption; graphs of remaining food-supplies extrapolated to show probable consumption under various scales; graphs of population changes; graphs of health-statistics: all these passed through my hands in their final form until I began to lose touch with the real world about me and to look upon disasters costing many lives merely as something which produced a point of inflection in my curves.
Nordenholt had established his central offices in the University and had cleared the benches from all the classrooms to make room for his staff. It was probably the best choice he could have made; since it provided within a limited area sufficient office-room to house everyone whom he might wish to call into consultation at a moment’s notice at any time; and it had the further advantage that all the scientific experts had been given the University laboratories to work in, so that they also were within easy call. He himself had chosen as his private office the old Senate Room. The Randolph Hall had been fitted up as a kind of card-index library wherein were stored all the facts of which he might be in need at any time; and the Court Room was converted into his secretary’s office and connected with the Senate Room by a door driven through the wall.
In Nordenholt’s office a huge graph extended right across the wall over the fireplace. It was an enormous diagram, covering the period from the starting of the Nitrogen Area and extending, as far as its numbered abscissae were concerned, beyond the harvest-time in the next year. Each morning, before Nordenholt came to his office, the new daily points were inserted on it and joined up with the preceding curves. One line, in red, expressed the amount of food remaining; another, in green, showed the quantity of nitrogenous material synthesised up to date; whilst the third curve, in purple, indicated approximately the crop which might be expected from the nitrogenous manure in hand. Of all the sights in the Nitrogen Area, I think that series of curves made the deepest impression upon me. It was so impersonal, a cold record of our position and our prospects, untinged by any human factor. The slow rise of the green curve; the steady fall of the red line—our whole future was locked up in these relative trends.
I remember one morning in Nordenholt’s office, where I had gone to consult him on some point or other. We had discussed the matter in hand; and I was about to leave him when he called me back.
“I haven’t seen much of you lately, Flint,” he said. “Sit down for a few minutes, will you? I want a rest from all this for a short time; and I think it would do you good to get clear of things for a while also. What do you do with yourself at nights?”
I told him that I usually worked rather late.
“That won’t do as a steady thing. I know the work has to be done; and I know you have to work till midnight, and after it often, to keep abreast of things. But if you do it without a break now and again you’ll simply get stale and lose grip.
