AND ALL THE EARTH A GRAVE

It all began when the new bookkeeping machine of a large Midwestern
coffin manufacturer slipped a cog, or blew a transistor, or something.
It was fantastic that the error--one of two decimal places--should
enjoy a straight run of okays, human and mechanical, clear down the
line; but when the figures clacked out at the last clacking-out
station, there it was. The figures were now sacred; immutable; and it
is doubtful whether the President of the concern or the Chairman of
the Board would have dared...