The Red Flank

The data processing room of an aircraft factory in St. Louis on a summer afternoon, on a raised floor of pale grey tiles a processor cabinet one metre sixty tall, its side wall brick-red, a plain black strip along its top, its front light grey with two white fields of fine grids of glowing lamps, a red pull knob, below a row of rotary switches with plain rings and groups of square keys in blue, white, red and green, before it a broad light grey table top, a hand in a short white shirt sleeve turning a rotary switch, a tray of cream tabulating cards, tape units with red reels behind.