The Finest Machine That Was Never Invented

"I'M THINKING of a pump," the Chairman said to the Production Engineer, "a pump which will fulfill a pretty tough programme performance."

"That's what we're here for," the Production Engineer said.

"Now listen to me," the Chairman went on. "The pump must keep eight pints of fluid in continuous circulation at the temperature of 37° C. It must work against constantly varying resistance and must adapt itself instantaneously, sometimes pumping eight pints a minute, sometimes fifty."

"What do you mean by instantaneously?"

"Within a tenth of a second."

The Production Engineer, blanching below the eyelids, gave a whistle, and made a note.

"The pump must weigh no more than 12 ounces. It must function at the altitude of Mount Everest, in the Sahara, or at the North Pole. It will have to give day and night service and deliver 130 strokes per minute—then in a couple of minutes, drop to 70. It will be controlled by a self-regulating, electrical mechanism."

"You mean automation?" the Production Engineer asked. "We are quite used to that."

"The pump must also be responsive to human control— which at any time may countermand that wonderful automation. The controller of the pump may be asleep, or drunk—it makes no difference."

"It's going to be hard to design a pump like that."

"Then, the pump must be able to operate at half the fluid capacity."

The Production Engineer be came grim. "You said this was a tough assignment!"

"Another thing. This pump has four chambers with four valves, and has to drive the fluid simultaneously in opposite directions."

"I won't say it can't be done," the Production Engineer said. "I am making a note of all this. What about running repairs?"

"Running repairs? Servicing will have to be done without the pump losing a single stroke. I tell you this pump must never stop."

"I will have to take this up with the factory," the Production Engineer said in desperation.

"Another thing. The pump must go on for anything up to one hundred years."

The Production Engineer let his pencil fall. "It can't be done, sir. A pump like that simply could not be designed."

Then the Production Engineer saw a smile of triumph on the Chairman's face. "Oh, I get you. It is an imaginary pump; it's your dream—for the future."

"No, it is a real pump. You have one inside your shirt. . . . Mine's been going for half a century— with automatic servicing. There has never been anything like the human heart—it's nothing but a pump with tubes attached. Four chambers, two circulations, all kept up with perfect automation. And it even works when we are not thinking. It can respond to any requirement—heat and cold— bad temper, beating the mile record. It is a lesson in design, in servicing—everything."

"But the real point is," here the Chairman paused, "the heart does go wrong. The material wears out before it should. Those artery tubes become rough inside and silted up. The valves get glued up. The automation goes wrong and we simply don't know enough about how the pump works, to put it right."

The Production Engineer be came more hopeful. "Surely, sir, that's a subject for study?"

"It surely is."