Get Smart 8 - Max Smart Loses Control by William Johnston

halted. “What is it, Max?”
    Max pointed to a small nozzle that was protruding from the wall at about head level. “This is where my experience proves valuable,” he said. “You see? You weren’t programmed to detect that. But I spotted it for what it is the instant I saw it. That’s because I’ve seen the same thing several times before. That’s the benefit of experience, Hymie.”
    “But what is it, Max?”
    “Well . . . let’s see . . . I’ve seen so many of these mechanisms, in time, they all begin to look alike. It might be a napalm spray. Or, on the other hand, it could be a mind-destroying laser beam. Yet, come to think of it, it might be nothing more than an automatic sprinkling system. Although—” He looked around. “—there isn’t much lawn in here. So that probably rules out the automatic sprinkling system.”
    “Is there some way we can find out, Max?”
    “We could hold something in front of it. I wouldn’t suggest holding a mind in front of it, though. It just might be a mind-destroying laser beam.” He reached into his pocket. “How about a slightly damp pack of matches?” he said.
    “In this case, you’ll have to make the decision, Max.”
    “All right, we’ll try it.”
    Max held the matches in front of the nozzle. There was a sizzling sound, and they completely disappeared.
    “If that had been a mind, it wouldn’t be a mind anymore,” Max said. “What you just saw at work, Hymie, was a mind-destroying laser beam. I know because if it’d been an automatic sprinkler system, I would have had a very wet slightly damp pack of matches right now.”
    “How do we get past it, Max?”
    “We can’t. A laser beam is impossible to destroy. If you try to hit it with a hammer, you just lose your hammer.”
    “Max . . . couldn’t we duck down and go under it?”
    “Well, yes, if you want to cheat, I suppose you can do that,” Max said. “But if I have to make a choice between losing my mind and cheating— Mmmmmm . . . who’ll duck first, Hymie, you or me?”
    Together, Max and Hymie crouched, passed the laser beam, then proceeded. But, a few yards on, Max stopped Hymie again.
    “Experience proves itself again,” he said, pointing. “There’s another one.”
    Hymie studied the nozzle-like protrusion. “Another mind-destroying laser beam?” he asked.
    “Aha! You’re wrong!” Max cackled. “That’s because you don’t have my experience, Hymie. I was dealing with KAOS when you were still a gleam in some mechanical engineer’s eye. This is not a mind-destroying laser beam. Look at it a little more closely—but not too closely—and you’ll see that it’s scorched around the opening. Now—what does that suggest?” He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t mean that somebody left the iron on while they went to answer the telephone and the call was from an especially talkative friend. It means, Hymie, that this is a napalm spray. It sprays flame.”
    “Well, then—”
    “Which reminds me of a little joke,” Max broke in. “What command is given to a firing squad of soldiers who are using napalm sprays?”
    “Max, I don’t think—”
    “Go on—guess.”
    “I don’t know, Max.”
    “Ready, aim, fire!”
    “That’s the usual command, Max.”
    “I know that, Hymie. But when the soldiers are using napalm sprays, the command ‘fire’ has special significance. Because fire comes from the sprayers. Understand?”
    Hymie nodded. “That’s very funny, Max.”
    “You have a very warped sense of humor, Hymie,” Max said disappointedly. “There’s nothing at all funny about napalm. If you walk in front of that nozzle, for instance, you’ll get yourself burned to a crisp.”
    “What shall we do, Max?” Hymie asked patiently.
    “Well, we could turn back, and climb out of the pool and get the car out of hiding, and drive into Las Vegas, and see if we could find a store open, and try to buy some asbestos clothing.”
    “Isn’t there an easier and faster way,