Dayna

“Inside, Harrison came face to face with
a small man wearing immense plus fours.
“Looking for someone?” asked the small man.
“Yes, the fire chief.”
“Who’s he?”
By now prepared for this sort of thing, Harrison
spoke as one would to a child. “See here, Mister, this
is a fire-fighting outfit. Somebody bosses it. Somebody
organizes the whole affair, fills forms, presses
buttons, shouts orders, recommends promotions,
kicks the shiftless, grabs all the credit, transfers all
the blame and generally lords it around. He’s the
most important man in the bunch and everybody
knows it.” His forefinger tapped imperatively on the
other’s chest. “And he is the fellow I’m going to talk
to if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Nobody is more important than anyone else.
How can he be? I think you’re crazy.”
“You’re welcome to think what you please but I
am telling you that—.”
A shrill bell clamoured, cutting off his sentence.”
― Eric Frank Russell, The Great Explosion