Overload

"Ardythe," Nim said, "please . . ."

"No, I'm almost finished. Today . . . tonight . when I realized I'd lost everything, I wanted sex more than ever. Suddenly all that missing seven years swept over me. And you were here, Nim. I've always liked you, maybe a little more than 'liked,' and you were here when I needed you most." She smiled. "If you came to comfort me, you did. it's that simple.

Don't make it more complicated, or feel guilt where there should be none."

He sighed. "If you say so, I won't." It seemed an easy way to put conscience to rest. Perhaps too easy.

"I say so. Now kiss me once more, and go home to Ruth."

He did as she said, and was relieved to be leaving before Wally and Mary arrived.

* * *

In the car, driving home, Nim pondered the complexities of his personal life. By comparison, the intricate conundrums of Golden State Power & Light seemed simple and preferable. At the top of his own immediate problem list were Ruth, their drifting-in-circles marriage, and now Ardythe. Then there were other women he had had affairs with from time to time, including a couple of recent ones still simmering. Those kinds of involvements seemed to happen to Nim without his seeking them. Or was he deluding himself there? Did he, in fact, search out entanglements, rationalizing later that they simply happened? Either way, for almost as long as he could remember, there had been no lack of sexual opportunities.

After his marriage to Ruth fifteen years ago, he had resolutely stayed a one-woman man-for about four years. Then an opportunity for extracurricular sex occurred, and he hadn't fought it. Afterward there had been still more opportunities-some the usual one-night stands, others that lasted enthusiastically for a while, then faded like bright stars dimming before extinction. At first Nim assumed he could keep his sexual philandering a secret from Ruth-the nature of his work with its heavy demands of time, plus irregular hours, helped make that possible. Probably it even worked for a while. Then common sense told him that Ruth, who was not only sensitive but shrewd, must realize what was happening. The extraordinary thing was that she never protested, simply seeming to accept. Illogically, Ruth's reaction-or, rather, the lack of it-galled him and still did. She should have minded, ought to have protested, perhaps shed angry tears. True, none of it might have made any difference, but Nim had asked himself: Wasn't his defection at least worth that much?

Something else Nim weighed from time to time was that news about his womanizing seemed to become known no matter how discreet he tried to be. There had been several examples of such leakages, the latest this afternoon. What was it Teresa Van Buren had said? "You've got a few things to learn about women, Nim-other than calisthenics in bed, and from rumors I hear, you're getting plenty of that." Obviously Teresa had more than rumors to go on or she would not have spoken so bluntly. And if Teresa knew, so did others in GSP & L.

Was Nim imperilling his own career? If so, was it worth it? Why did he do it, anyway? And was it for real or just a game?

"I'll be damned if I know," Nim said aloud in the small closed car, and the remark seemed applicable to what he had been thinking about and a good deal more.

His own house, near the outskirts of the city, was silent when he arrived, with only a dim night-light in the downstairs hallway left burning. At Nim's urging, the Goldmans were a conservation-conscious family.

Upstairs be tiptoed into Leah's and Benjy's rooms. Both youngsters were sleeping soundly.

Ruth stirred as he came into their bedroom, and inquired sleepily, "What time is it?"

He answered softly, "A little past midnight."

"How's Ardythe?"

"I'll tell you in the morning."

The answer seemed satisfactory and Ruth returned to sleep.

Nim showered quickly, remembering that he should remove any traces of Ardythe's perfume, then climbed into his own twin bed. Moments later, surrendering to exhaustion from the pressures of the day, he was asleep himself.

6

"We are agreed, then," J. Eric Humphrey said. His inquiring gaze swept over the nine men and two women seated with him around the conference room table. "We are agreed we should accept Nim's planning report in toto and press at the highest level for immediate, urgent approval of the three projects-Tunipah coal-burning plant, Devil's Gate pumped storage, and opening the Fincastle geothermal field."

As nods and murmured assent greeted the chairman's summation, Nim Goldman leaned back, for the moment relaxed. His presentation of future plans-the product of intense work by himself and many others-had been a grueling one.

The group, GSP&L's management committee, included all officers reporting directly to the chairman. Officially, it rated second in authority to the Board of Directors. In fact, it was the real fount of policy decisions and power. It was Monday afternoon and the meeting, which had carried over from the morning, had worked its way through a long agenda. A few around the table showed signs of weariness. Five days had passed since the disastrous explosion at La Mission and the subsequent power failure. In the meantime there had been intensive studying of entrails-the cause and effect of what had happened, along with prognostications for the future. The inquisitions had continued late into every night and over the weekend. Also, since last Wednesday, because of cooler weather and some luck, no further blackouts had occurred. But one conclusion was inescapable. There would be other blackouts, far more serious, unless GSP & L began building more generating capacity soon.

"Soon" meant within the next year. Even then there could still be serious shortages ahead since a conventional fossil-fueled power plant took five years to design and build, a nuclear plant six-preceded, in each case, by the four to six years it took to obtain the needed licenses.

"As well as those three projects we've been talking about," Oscar O'Brien, the utility's general counsel, said, "I assume we will still press on with our nuclear license applications." O'Brien was a former government lawyer from Washington, a burly man, shaped like a bass fiddle, who smoked cigars continuously. Across the table from him, Ray Paulsen, executive vice president of power supply, growled, "We goddam well better."

Next to Paulsen, Nim Goldman doodled thoughtfully on a pad. He reflected: Despite their mutual dislike, and disputes in many areas, the one thing he and Paulsen agreed on was a need for more power generation.

"Naturally," Eric Humphrey said, "we shall continue our nuclear program.

But in terms of public psychology we'll be better off, I believe, to let nuclear stand alone and not be linked with the other plans. The route to nuclear is strewn with hazards." He added hastily, "I mean hazards of opposition."

The chairman continued, "Anticipating our decision here, I have already arranged a meeting with the Governor-in Sacramento, the day after tomorrow.

I intend to urge him to bring pressure on all regulatory agencies to move swiftly. I shall also suggest, for each of the three projects, combined hearings before all regulatory bodies from whom we require approval, perhaps starting as early as next month."

"It's never been done that way, Eric," Stewart Ino, a senior vice president in charge of rates and valuation, objected. Ino was an old-timer at GSP & L; he had a chubby yeoman's face and with the addition of a ruff and velvet hat could have been a British beefeater. An expert on licensing procedures, he liked to follow them precisely. "Separate hearings have always been the rule," he added. "To combine them would create complications." =

"Let the lousy bureaucrats worry about that," Ray Paulsen told him. "I'm for Eric's idea which would shove a live wire up their asses."

"Three live wires," someone said.

Paulsen grinned. "Better still."

Ino looked offended.

Ignoring the last exchange, Eric Humphrey observed, "Let's remember there are strong arguments in favor of exceptional action. Moreover, we shall never have a better time to press them. The power failure of last week showed clearly that a crisis can happen; therefore crisis methods are needed to counter it. Even in Sacramento I think they'll see that."

"In Sacramento," Oscar O'Brien said, "all they see is politics, just as in Washington. And let's face it-the opponents of what we plan will use politics to the hilt, with Tunipah at the top of their bate list."

There were reluctant murmurs of assent. Tunipah, as everyone around the table realized, could prove the most controversial of the three developments now being discussed. It was also, in several ways, the most vital of their plans.