Starting Forever

Jeff watched the assembly pallet travel into the torque station and stop. He saw the "PALLET HOME" icon on the LCD screen change from red to green and then the message bar displayed "LOWERING DRIVERS". The six electrical torque drivers dropped down onto the six screws of the gearbox and the "DRIVERS DOWN" icon changed to green. The drivers should have started and torqued the screws to secure the cover on the gearbox, but they didn't. He waited the fifteen seconds he'd programmed into the control computer and then saw the message bar display "DRIVER FAULT -- ABORTING CYCLE".

"Dammit", he said under his breath as he looked at the program displayed on his laptop. "There's nothing wrong. Why didn't the damned drivers drive?"

He looked at his watch and breathed "dammit" again, because it was already five-thirty. He should have been on his way home half an hour ago, but here he was, trying to get the damned machine to work like he'd designed it to work. Any other day, he'd have called it quits, packed up his laptop and gone home. Today, he couldn't. The customer was due to arrive at eight the next morning to witness a trial run of the equipment and inspect a sample of the gearboxes produced. If the assembly line didn't work, his company would fail the trial run and that would endanger their chances of getting another contract from that customer.

He turned to Teresa Barnes, the technician assigned to him until the assembly machine was up and running.

"Are you sure you checked all the limit switches?"

"Yes, I am. They're all there and they all work. I checked each one with a meter as well as with your display."

"Well, can you check them again? Something is keeping the drivers from starting and I can't see any problems with the program."

Teresa smiled.

"I'll check 'em again, but they're fine. It has to be your programming."

It's just like Bart says, thought Jeff. Technicians think everything's the engineer's fault because they've never made a mistake in their lives. It would be bad enough if she was a man, but she's a woman and she's not even a pretty woman. Her hair is all jammed up under a ball cap and her clothes are so loose they just hang off her body.

Fifteen minutes later, Teresa climbed the stile over the pallet conveyor from the inside of the assembly line.

"I checked all the limit switches and they operate in manual. I checked all the cables from the limit switches back to the control cabinet. I checked all the wiring from the bulkhead fittings to the input modules. In manual, everything works like it should. Run it in auto once and I'll watch the input modules."

Jeff started the cycle, and when the LCD display said the drivers were down, Teresa yelled, "All the input modules show true, but the output for the drivers didn't come on."

Jeff already knew that because the driver cycle faulted again. He was going over his program again when Teresa walked up beside him.

"Could I look at your program?"

"You think you'll know what you're looking at?"

Teresa grinned.

"Maybe. You're programming in C++, right? I sorta taught myself how to program in C++ with one of those little microcomputers. I can't make it do anything really fancy like this machine, but I can make it turn lights on and off and make a buzzer buzz."

Jeff backed away from his laptop. He didn't think Teresa would find anything, but if he didn't let her try, she'd probably tell all the other techs he was an egotistical ass. They already thought most engineers were asses, but Jeff had a reasonably good reputation with them and he didn't want to screw that up. Without the cooperation of the techs, a project could stretch beyond the allotted timing and cost the company money in overtime.

"Have at it."

Teresa paged down through the lines of code until she found his annotation that said "start drivers". After reading that line of code, she asked him where his I/O subroutines were. Jeff showed her his printed copy and Teresa studied some more, then turned to Jeff and grinned.

"Found it, I think. You're sending a hex number to the module interface to turn on the output modules, aren't you? That's what I do with my little microcomputer to turn things on and off. When I built this control, your prints said to label the input modules as address 0111000 through 0111100 and the output modules as address 110000 through 111110. The output channel to start the drivers is address 111101. That's 3d in hex but your program is sending 3e and that's output 111110. There's an output at 111110 so you won't get an error for setting it, but there's nothing connected to it. Run it again and I'll watch that output."

After the driver cycle aborted again, Teresa backed out of the control cabinet and grinned.

"That's the problem. If you change that 3e to 3d, I'll bet it works."

Jeff made the change, re-compiled, and then started the cycle. He held his breath when the drivers dropped onto the gearbox, and then smiled when the drivers all drove the screws to their required torque. They then retracted like they were supposed to do, and the station released the pallet to the inspection station. That station and the rest had already been verified, so he was done. Jeff turned to Teresa.

"Thanks, Teresa. You saved us from failing tomorrow. I've been over this damn program a thousand times and never saw the mistake. I must have converted the numbers wrong."

Teresa grinned.

"Nah, you just fat-fingered it when you typed it. I've done it before. Well, you get to go home now. I still have to re-route and tie down all the cables I cut loose tonight so they'll be nice and neat tomorrow."

"They'll never look at your cables. They'll only want to see it work."

"Yeah, probably, but I'll know it's not right. Now, get outa here. I'll see you in the morning."

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Jeff grew up on a farm raising corn, soybeans, and cattle, and probably would have followed in his dad's shoes if his dad hadn't insisted he make something better of himself. Jeff had always liked electricity and had played with microprocessors in the computer club at school. When he was a senior in high school, he made the decision to study electrical and computer engineering. His high school advisor said that was a wise choice because there would always be jobs requiring that education.

His freshman class at the University of Illinois was huge with almost three thousand students in electrical engineering alone. Jeff felt lost for a few weeks, but soon got accustomed to the number of people, his new-found freedom, and the responsibility that freedom required. He was a little uncomfortable at first with the number of foreign professors and teaching assistants. Most seemed to be from Asia or India and it was hard for him to understand what they were saying. By studying hard, he overcame the language difficulty and was pleased that he was not only understanding the material, but he liked it as well.

There were only a handful of girls in electrical and computer engineering, and while those girls were intelligent, they weren't exactly prime dating material. Jeff had always liked feminine women, and the girls didn't dress or act much different than the guys. They also didn't seem to want a relationship with a man, or at least they didn't want a relationship with an Illinois farm boy. As a result, Jeff graduated with a BS four years later but with no girlfriend and very little experience with women in general.

Jeff's real love was artificial intelligence and the computer systems and software that entailed. American industry wasn't quite ready for that when he graduated, so he took a job with Rilson Gear, a supplier to the automotive industry that made electrically powered devices such as window winders and seat adjusters. He couldn't design AI systems there, but he could add a little AI for automatic inspection and system adjustments to his software.

Jeff was somewhat of a star at his company because he was good at what he did. His job wasn't the one he'd envisioned when he graduated, but it was interesting work for the most part and it paid the bills. He designed the control systems for new conveyor and assembly systems for new products at Rilson, and helped the techs troubleshoot problems when they got stuck. The word about him from the manufacturing engineers and technicians was that if Jeff couldn't make it run, you might as well scrap it and start over.

As Jeff ate the pizza he bought on his way back to his apartment, he was both happy the assembly station worked and a little aggravated that a tech, a female tech at that, was the reason. Jeff didn't make many mistakes, so the one Teresa had found was a little embarrassing. He'd been looking at his code for hours trying to figure out what was going on, and Teresa had found the mistake in only a few minutes. He shrugged then and chalked it up to the fact that she hadn't written the code and hadn't been staring at it for hours, so the mistake just jumped out at her. It was a pretty simple mistake after all, so Teresa just got lucky.

When the customer visited the next morning, everything went according to plan. He and Teresa stood by as the operators assembled two hundred window winder assemblies without a hitch. The customer quality control engineer took three and inspected them for backlash, proper screw torque and appearance and judged them acceptable. The plant manager was happy and Jeff's boss was happy. After the customer left, his boss came to his desk and shook his hand.

"Jeff, I was a little worried yesterday about three o'clock because the line wasn't running, but you did what you always do and fixed it. We're going to make money on this project, and I'll see to it that you get a share of those profits on your next salary review."

Jeff shook Bart's hand, but then said, "Actually, Teresa fixed it. I made a mistake in the code and she found it."

Bart grinned.

"Well, it's nice of you to give her credit, but we both know where the credit really belongs. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and celebrate a little?"

Jeff did take off that afternoon, but he didn't celebrate. It didn't seem right that he was home taking it easy and still getting paid while Teresa, the one who actually found the problem was still at work. It also didn't seem right that Bart had grinned when he said they both knew where the credit for the success belonged. Bart had been a technician before being promoted to manufacturing engineer and then five years later, to the department manager, and had seemed to forget all about his beginnings. He'd often expressed his lack of respect for technicians.

"They're just wrench-turners", he'd said. "Without an engineer to tell them what to do and how to do it, they'd be lost. The women we're getting now from the junior colleges are worse. They think they should get the same treatment as the men, but they're not as good and they get emotional about things all the time."

Jeff thought it both odd and egotistical that Bart seemed to hold the techs in such low esteem. He thought since Bart had been a technician, he'd know they were a very skilled bunch of people and would want to treat them that way. He couldn't figure his lack of respect for female techs either. They were usually better at wiring because their hands were smaller and they had a better eye for detail. When he thought about it some more, Teresa was probably the best technician in the plant.

By the next week, Jeff had forgotten about the gearbox assembly line and the customer trial. He had bigger problems on his hands. The largest assembly line in the plant, the assembly line with the highest volume requirements, was down hard. There were enough parts in inventory at Rilson and at the customer to last for four, possibly five days. After those were consumed, the entire automotive assembly plant would be shut down unless Rilson could get the line running again.

Jeff was well aware of the penalty for shutting down an automotive assembly plant. The current cost was fifteen hundred dollars billed to the supplier for every minute the automotive assembly plant was shut down. The supplier usually didn't have to come up with the cash. The fee was a debit to the supplier's account. The supplier just had to supply parts at no cost until the total cost of the shutdown was paid. Even a day would put Rilson in serious financial trouble. More than that could mean bankruptcy.

The problem had originated in the main control transformer. For whatever reason, the primary of the transformer had short-circuited to the secondary and for the few milliseconds it took for the main circuit breaker to open, had fed four hundred and eighty volts to circuits designed for one hundred and twenty volts. Almost all of the control system was immediately fried, and many of the solenoid valves and indicator lights had also failed. The over-voltage had also smoked most of the low-voltage power supplies that supplied power to all the sensors.

The failure happened at the end of third shift on a Monday. Jeff was called at five AM, and by seven had pulled the drawings of the assembly line and began ordering replacement parts while the technicians began checking all the components and wiring to determine what else might need to be replaced. By Tuesday afternoon, he was half way through the parts list of control components, and thanks to expensive but necessary expedited shipping, some of the components had arrived.

At four o'clock that afternoon, his cell phone buzzed. He stopped typing the latest order on his laptop and pulled the cell phone from his pocket. He recognized his mother's cell number. Jeff pressed the "connect" icon.

"Hi, Mom. Whatcha need."

His mother didn't sound like herself.

"Jeff, I need you to come home right now, as soon as you can get here."

"Mom, I'm in the middle of a crisis here. I can't leave."

"Jeff, you have to come. It's your dad. The doctor said he had a heart attack, a really bad one. They have him stable right now, but the heart doctor told me his heart was damaged so much it won't get better and that he probably won't live more than a couple more days. They haven't told your dad, but he's figured it out and he asked to see you."

Jeff walked into Bart's office as soon as he'd told his mother he'd leave within the hour. Bart wasn't happy, but said he understood. He also asked Jeff who he'd recommend to finish the ordering and oversee the rebuild of the equipment.

Jeff thought for a few moments before stunning himself with the realization there was only one person who knew as much about the equipment as he did.

"Bart, she's not an engineer, but Teresa built the control system, she helped me check it out, and she's been maintaining it for two years. Of all the people here, she's the best qualified to get it up and running again."

Bart frowned.

"She's just a technician and she's a woman. You sure about this?"

"Yes, I am. It doesn't take an engineer to order parts and follow a drawing to install them. My program is on the common drive, so all she'll have to do is install it once the rebuild is done. She's installed programs before. If you want the line to run on time, give it to Teresa. Now, I'm sorry, but I have to leave.".

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It seemed strange for Jeff to see his dad lying in a hospital bed with sensors attached to his chest. He'd always been strong and was never sick. He never even seemed to get a cold. His dad just grinned when he walked into the intensive care room.

"Ah, you made it. I'm glad you did. I need to tell you some things I've never told you before."

Jeff took the hand his father slowly lifted from the bed. It felt cool, and though his father squeezed, Jeff felt almost no pressure.

"Just rest Dad. You'll be all right once you rest a little."

His father smiled again.

"You know, you never could lie worth a damn, did you know that? I could always tell, just like I can tell now. The damn doctors won't tell me, but I feel it. My dad said the same thing before he passed. I didn't believe him then, but I do now."

Jeff squeezed his father's hand.

"Dad, you should be trying to get well, not thinking that way."

"Well, even if I'm wrong, I still need to say what I need to say. Jeff, I never wanted you to be a farmer. I'd have been proud of you if that's what you wanted to do, but I wanted you to be better than I am, and you made it. I'm really proud of that. It did me good to be able to say my son's an engineer who makes parts for the cars people drive.

"I wouldn't change anything in my life even if I could, because it turned out just fine. I helped your mother raise a son who's smart, educated, and who never forgot how to treat other people. I don't like leaving before I have some grandkids, but you don't get to choose what happens to you in life. You just have to make the best of what happens. I think your mother and I did just that, and you're the proof."

Jeff felt tears in his eyes as he tried to speak.

"Dad, I don't know what to say."

His father smiled again.

"You don't have to say anything. I shoulda told you this a long time ago, but I didn't want you to get all big-feeling. I guess I was a little embarrassed to tell you too. Men don't talk to their sons like this. It's too...well, it's just not something men do."

A nurse walked into the room then and smiled.

"Are you Jeff?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well good. Bill's been telling us all about you since he got here. It's good to meet you. Now, I have to check his vitals, so if you'll just step outside to the waiting area, you can come back when I'm done."

Jeff walked out of the room and down the hall to where his mother sat. She held a tissue in one hand, and from time to time, dabbed her eyes. She looked up at him.

"What did he say?"

"He just said he was proud of me and that he thought he'd lived a good life."

Jeff's mother smiled.

"He's been telling me he was proud of you since we went to your college graduation. He was so proud that day he was about to burst, and when we got home he called everybody we know and - "

"CODE BLUE, IC3" blared out over the speakers in the hall. Seconds later, a nurse came running down the hall pushing a cart of equipment and right on her heels was a man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck. They rushed through the door of Jeff's dad's room while the first nurse held it open.

Jeff's mother stood up and cried, "Bill" and then started running toward the room. She made it to the door before the nurse stopped her.

"Mrs. Wilkerson, you can go in, but don't interfere with the doctor. He's doing everything he can do."

Jeff's mother peered through the door, and then slowly walked inside. After five minutes she came back out and she was crying. When Jeff walked up and put his arms around her, she looked up at him.

"He said he wanted to hold my hand, so I picked his up and squeezed it. Then he said I should tell you good bye for him. A few seconds later, he just sighed and his hand stopped squeezing mine. I kissed him then, but I don't know if he felt it."

Jeff patted his mother on the back.

"I'm sure he did, Mom. I'm sure he did."

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The funeral was to be on Saturday, and Jeff knew his mother was in no shape to make all the arrangements by herself. He didn't want to talk to Bart, so he sent him a text message saying he'd be taking his three days of bereavement and would be back to work the following Monday.

The week went by quickly what with talking to the funeral home about arrangements and picking out a casket. They were fortunate that Jeff's dad had purchased two cemetery lots several years before, so all that was needed was to give the funeral director that information. Before Jeff knew it, it was Friday night and he was standing with his mother beside the casket at the funeral home.