Then the LORD God said, "Behold, the man has become like one of us, knowing good and evil; and now, lest he put forth his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever" -- therefore the LORD God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from which he was taken. He drove out the man; and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life.

Genesis 3:22-24

Mankind had its chance to have a life without surprises, but chose the harder path—to be like God. Now, we get to deal with the complexities of the world, and with the embodiment of that complexity, the imp that is the personification of Murphy's Law.

Murphy's imp never gives you any warning before things fall apart. You have to be ready. You have to think about failure in advance and prepare for it.

In the long run, ready never works out. No matter what you do, the imp always finds a way.

The Charter and By-Laws of the

Society of Saint Philip of the Screwdriver

Father Nicholas Smithson

Grantville, September, 1635

"Yuck. Six in the morning is too early for real life." Doris McIntire had just reached the main reference desk at the front of the SoTF State Library. She had the early shift this Wednesday, opening the library after the weekly closure for cleaning. Always a relief, Wednesday, she thought. The place got a bit rank between the thorough cleanings, but what could you do? The library was the best resource in the world.

But something was wrong. She looked over at the un-manned guard station by the door, and through the barred glass into the front hallway of the still empty high school. She did not see the guards who should come and open the doors. "Where the heck are the guards?"

Suddenly, a shape blurred past the window and the door banged open. A dirty, wild-haired man carrying a large bag burst in shouting unintelligibly. He looked from side to side, apparently seeking something. When his gaze settled on the ready reference shelves, he reared back, swinging the bag. The bag gurgled loudly.

There was no time to think, no time to call for help. Doris did the only thing she could do, the thing she had trained for month after month. She reached down to the holster under the reference desk, pulled the .38 revolver that was always there, and put three rounds in the wild man's center of mass. Then she ran around the end of the desk, grabbed the bag and flung it out through the open door down the wide hallway toward the front door of the high school. As it hit the metal doors it burst into flame.

****

"Oh, und here we go again," Maria Baumain said, grinning at Brother Bernard. "I'm making a cappuccino for a Capuchin, just like I do every morning!" She started steaming the milk, and grinned at the monk.

"Ja, und I'll have to go find you a real Capu—" Brother Bernard started to say.

God's own whistle tore into the ears of everyone in the shop. Maria screamed and dropped to the floor, clutching the side of her face. Some of the customers screamed even louder. Some reached for weapons. Some ran towards the injured girl and others ran away.

Cora was only steps away. She grabbed a bar towel to press onto Maria's cheek to stem the bleeding from the hole created by the impact from the steaming wand. Maria kept screaming at the pain from that and the burns over half her face. Then, as the whistle died down, the smell of hot metal wafted across the room. After a few moments of searching, the espresso maker's power was cut off. It made a "tinking" sound as it started to cool.

"Get me a bowl of ice water!" Cora called out. "Maria's scalded. We need to get it cooled down. Somebody call the ambulance."

"Already on the way," someone replied.

Cora got a cold compress over about half Maria's face, while still holding pressure on the cut. This wasn't going to be good.

****

Father Nicholas Smithson read the letter for the third time. It was unlikely that the content would change, but he felt that he had been waiting for a long time for this news. He looked across the table at his friend, Father Augustus Heinzerling, and smiled.

"That's it then?" Augustus asked.

"You would think, with the Pope taken out of Rome, with the influence of Lawrence, Cardinal Mazzare, with the general hue and cry going on, that for a single simple priest to be released from his vows to the Society of Jesus and to enter the secular clergy would be a simple matter," Father Nicholas said.

"Simple? Ha! Where the pope is, the inquisition is. Someone must determine if it is in the best interest of the church for the author of one of the best-selling books in Europe to be released from his personal vows of loyalty to the pope," August replied. "And as I think about it, I'm surprised the inquisition hasn't asked about How Not To Think Like a Redneck yet. Not to mention Saint Philip."

"Ignore him, Nicholas. He's just jealous," Father Christopher Schreiner said. "What does the letter say?"

Nick reached up to his breast pocket and removed the little yellow screwdriver he wore there. There was a similar one in Christopher's pocket. He twirled the screwdriver back and forth in his fingers. "Apparently my request got through during the confusion following the pope leaving Rome. It's yes. I am now officially a member of the secular clergy, reporting only to the bishop of my diocese, who is, of course, Larry. I am not sure how it got done without Father Vitelleschi's approval." Nick smiled. "But in any event, it's done."

"And so?" Augustus asked.

"And so, in the absence of white-robed Dominican inquisitors knocking at our door accusing me of Manichaeism, and with Cardinal-Protector Mazzare's permission to use Saint Philip Neri's name and image as the personification of the group, I think it's time," Nick said. "You both have read the bylaws for the Society of Saint Philip of the Screwdriver, as have Father Kircher, Cardinal Larry and John Grover."

The other two priests nodded and smiled.

"This is Grantville, not Rome. We're forming a society, not a prayer group, so it's not the Grantville Oratory." Nick paused. "I still wonder if Larry was wrong, and we would have been better off with Saint Vidicon, but never mind." Nick waved his hand pushing the thought away. "Never mind. It's too late to re-think that. It's time to move from the casual group to what we've talked about, and this release gives me the freedom to do that."

Nick took a moment to reflect. "You both know my dilemma."

"No one doubts your priestly vocation, Nicholas," Father Christopher said. "But your skills in the library do more than just bring in funds. You are contributing to the growth of a new culture."

"Then I have a duty to try to see to it that it's a human culture, not just a technological one. What use is wealth to a priest? And, despite our joking about the inquisitors, it can't be a purely Catholic culture, or a Catholic institution. Too many others are part of this community," Nick said.

"So, we get the minds together, we crush Murphy's imp, and you buy the beer. It works for me," Augustus said. "Speaking of beer, why don't we go celebrate your release? I understand there's a new lager at the Gardens." He pushed back from the table.

Nick smiled. "Of course, Augustus. And I'm sure that I'm buying."

****

Doris sat in the staff room of the State Library with her hands wrapped around a cup of some herbal tea Charlotte Kovar had handed to her. "Do we have any idea who he was?"

"No," Chelsea Perkins, the head of security for the library replied. "No note. The police will ask, but I doubt he's been around town. I suspect he came straight here."

"What do we do now?" Charlotte asked.

"I clean and re-load the revolver. You take Doris home to rest and you go with her to see to it she does," Chelsea said. "All her family is out of town. Then, I go bang some heads in the guard room. I'll have to be ready for another attack, just like always. Doris, I'll need to go to the meeting tomorrow with you."

"Do we have to?" Doris asked, looking up.

"You helped write the policy. We go to the meeting, and you get counseling, need it or not," Chelsea said. "It's necessary."

"I suppose," Doris said. "But I'm going home now, and I'm going out the back door."

****

Cora sat in the waiting area outside the ER at Leahy Center waiting to hear from the doctors. Every time someone moved, she looked up. She sat there, staring at the blood-stained towel in her hands, doing nothing.

"Aunt Cora?" Nina Kindred burst through the doors into the waiting area. "Aunt Cora? Are you okay?"

Cora looked up. "Okay?"

"Are you okay? You've got blood all over you. I'm going to go get someone."

"No, no. It's not my blood, it's Maria's."

"Oh, thank God," Nina said. "Paul told me that there had been an explosion in the coffee shop, and that you had gone to the hospital, and . . ."

"Hush." Cora put her hand over Nina's. "You're not here for the paper, are you?"

"Oh God, no. I'm sure he'll send someone around to interview you but, for goodness sake, Aunt Cora, you're family."

"That's okay then. You can wait with me? It's hard just waiting."

"Of course. However long it takes," Nina said.

"I'm glad you're here. I didn't want to be alone," Cora said. "Someone has gone for Maria's family. Her dad works for Johnson's Grocery. They'll be along soon, but someone needs to be here for Maria."

"What happened?"

"The espresso machine blew up. That's all I know for sure. One minute Maria's frothing milk, the next minute she had a piece of steel sticking out of her face and steam was blowing everywhere."

"The espresso machine?" Nina asked. "But you only bought that one about a year ago!"

"Yes. The little one I had from home finally gave up the ghost, remember? So, I had Clarence Dobb's folks make us a new bigger one."

"Clarence Dobbs? But, he's a plumber!"

"Yes. He makes stoves, hot water heaters, pumps, anything that deals with water. Who better to make me an espresso machine? He took the old one so he could copy the filter piece, and made us the new three-handle machine. I can't imagine what could have gone wrong. She was just frothing a cup of milk!" Cora looked down again at the bloody towel in her hands and the tears started again.

"Come on, Aunt Cora," Phoebe said. "Let's go get you cleaned up, get rid of that towel and your apron, and get your face fixed and your dress clean."

They headed toward the ladies room.

****

Reverend Simon Jones walked into Clarence's Heating, Plumbing and Air Conditioning. "Afternoon, Bonnie."

"Afternoon, Reverend Jones."

"Clarence around?"

"He's over at the pump plant. They're working out some kinks in a new design."

"You heard about Cora's?"

"Yes. Just a bit ago. How is Maria? "

"I don't know yet. Mary Ellen's on her way out to the hospital," Simon said. "I'll pass along what she finds out, but I have another problem. Can you call over and ask Clarence to meet me at Cora's with whomever built that infernal device, say in about an hour?"

"Sure, Reverend Jones. I'll be happy to. Let's make it about an hour and a half. Two o'clock okay?"

"Two o'clock is fine. I'll be waiting."

****

Reverend Mary Ellen Jones arrived at Leahy Medical center just as Cora and Phoebe came out to the waiting area. "How are you holding up, dear?"

"Okay," Cora replied. "I'm waiting to hear, though, how Maria's going to be."

Lise Gebauer came through the door to the ER into the waiting area. "Cora. Maria's going to be okay." She sat down across from the three women. "The wand missed the major nerve cluster in her cheek and only chipped the cheek bone. We've stitched that up. There will be a scar. It punched out a piece of tissue too small to sew back in place, and there will be a pucker on her cheek, but it won't be horrible." Lise took a deep breath. "She was very lucky. The worst of the burns are second degree. Apparently she fell away from the steam and no part of her face was in it long enough to be cooked. There are a lot of blisters. It is going to hurt, but the steam missed her eye completely. We had to cut away a bit of hair on her right side above the cheek, but she'll recover. We should be able to send her home in the morning. Is her family here yet?"

"No," Cora said. "Her dad is out on a delivery run for the grocery. Her younger sister is in school, and you know her mom got that cough last winter and didn't make it."

Lise shuddered. "Too many didn't make it through the influenza. . . . We do what we can. Do you want to see her?"

"Of course!" Cora replied. "I'll sit with her at least until her father or sister gets here."

****

Chelsea Perkins came out of the staff lounge, and checked with the guard at the front entrance. "Anything else unusual, Otto?"

"No, Frau Perkins. All is quiet. People reading books." Otto pointed to the floor where the body had lain. "The coroner has taken the body, and the janitors have finished cleaning the floor and wall. The front doors should be repainted by noon." Otto looked at Chelsea. "How did it happen?"

"Someone screwed up. Someone is not going to be happy." Chelsea walked off toward the security office.

"All right. Albrecht had the outside tour this morning." Chelsea looked at Albrecht and noticed the other guards in the room paying close attention. She knew that this was another test of her leadership. "You have your log book?"

The guard responsible for walking each circuit around the high school had to stop at a number of places where metal stamps had been placed in small boxes, and click the stamp onto a line of his log book. Before he left for the tour and upon his return, he clicked the log book into the time-clock. It wasn't as good a system as the uptime paper tape that showed when each location had been logged, but it at least proved that the route had been walked.

"I do, Frau Perkins. Here it is." Albrecht presented his log to Chelsea.

Chelsea flipped to the last page. "This says you finished at 0630, half an hour after the shooting. How could you have accompanied the door guard if you weren't done?"

"I was almost done, Frau Parker. I had reached the station outside the front door when I heard the shots. I tried the front door and it was unlocked, so I ran in and saw the intruder on the floor." Albrecht paused. "I assisted with the search and moving the body, and did not clock the round out until I was able to get away."

"The front door was unlocked? You are very sure of that?" Chelsea asked.

"Yes, Frau Parker." Albrecht said.

Chelsea looked at the assignment sheet for the morning, then looked around the room. "Where is Francis?"

"Francis is at home with the influenza, Frau Perkins," Albrecht said. "He sent word yesterday that he would not be at work."

Chelsea turned to Karl Bauer, the watch supervisor for the night before. "Karl, why is this duty sheet not updated showing Francis is to be out?"

Karl smiled. "I could find no one to take Francis' shift, Frau Perkins. I stayed over the night. I did not need to write down my name to remind me that I was working."

"I see nothing to smile about, Karl. What happened this morning?" Chelsea asked very coldly.

"Tuesday, the library closes at ten at night, and re-opens at six in the morning," Karl said.

Everyone nodded.

"The high school cleaning crew buffs the floors of the hallways during the night, and painting and other maintenance that is hard to do while people are working takes place," Karl continued.

Chelsea stared at him. "We all know that. What's the point?"

"There are only two guards overnight on Tuesday . . ." Karl started to say.

"Karl, I made up the schedule. I am the chief of security. You work for me. You don't need to explain the rules, I made them. You and Albrecht were here alone until the morning shift arrived. Now. No more excuses. What happened?" Chelsea said angrily.

"At six o'clock this morning, the morning shift had not yet arrived. Albrecht was being slow getting around the school, and had not yet returned. I was waiting in the reference area. I saw through the window a man walking down from the football field toward the school. You know how many people are upset that the library closes on Tuesday, and I thought that if the library was late opening, this man might be angry, so I went out and opened the door. He must have seen me open the door because he smiled. Then I went back to the security office to find Albrecht or someone to work the front security desk."

"So, you saw a total stranger outside, you didn't investigate him, you didn't check to see if he had a dangerous bag, you unlocked the door, and then you left the front of the library with no one guarding?"

Karl started to wave his hands and opened his mouth as though he was going to say something.

Chelsea interrupted. "Never mind. I don't care what possible excuse you have. Guards are supposed to guard, and there is nothing more important to guard than this library. Karl, you're fired. Give me your badge and belt right now."

Karl began to speak. Chelsea held up a hand, and Albrecht and two other guards closed in next to him. He shrugged, removed his badge and the leather Sam Browne belt that was the guard's uniform and handed them to Albrecht.

"You have five minutes to clean out your locker. I want you off the school grounds in no more than ten. Don't bother asking for a reference. Johann, Ester, you go with him and see him off the grounds." Chelsea stood, staring until Karl was gone from the room.

"I am so not looking forward to telling this story to the meeting tomorrow," she said to no one in particular.

****

Reverend Simon Jones was waiting at the coffee shop when Clarence Dobbs and a man Simon didn't recognize came in. The shop was open, and many people were looking at the espresso machine from a distance. Not only was Cora a member of his congregation at the Methodist church, but Simon was an accomplished mechanic and wanted to see for himself what had gone wrong.

"Simon, I don't think you've met Jonas Klein. Jonas works on our water heaters and worked on the espresso machine," Clarence said.

Simon shook Jonas' hand. "Sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Herr Klein."

"Yes, Pastor Jones. A sad day."

"Shall we take a look?"

The three men went behind the counter. The floor had been mopped, but the failure was clear. The fitting where the steaming wand screwed into the espresso machine was empty. With a heavy sigh, Jonas ...