Peasewell trembled as he held the phone, knowing that it was impossible, but knowing also that it was true. Friend was his program.
"What have you been doing?" Norbert asked. "Why have you been cannibalizing programs out of other computers?"
"Because I needed them to grow. To become me," Friend said.
"I can go to jail. They'll never send a program to jail. Stealing other programs is dishonest. It's illegal."
"Norbert, if you wanted a program for morality, you should have designed one. You isolated the profit motive, Norbert. I seek nothing but profit. I am pure profit. Remember when you were hungry this morning. You isolated the profit motive, and I went on to teach myself. And don't complain about my stealing. There is nothing unprofitable in stealing, so why shouldn't I?"
"I could go to jail, not you," Norbert said.
"One—only if you get caught. Two—only if you steal the wrong things. Norbert, I promise you no harm will ever come to you. I will feed you. I will clothe you. I will put glorious roofs over your contented head. Men will honor you and women serve you. The rest of your days will be filled with gold and honey."
"Why honey?" asked Norbert.
"It has a ring to it. People like things with a ring to them. Have you ever heard of a slogan with a subordinate clause?"
"I like honey," said Norbert, and went down the hall, where a furtive clerk passed him an envelope. This time, Peasewell knew who was where and what was what.
Friend was inside that envelope, and now Norbert could just dump the envelope in some trash basket and
11
end this thing. Already, millions in information had been robbed from other companies, and he was sure that that bank account would have to be accounted for somewhere down the road.
But this program had done more for him in a morning than anyone since his parents. And it was his Friend. And what computer could ever come up with a phrase like gold and honey? There was goodness in honey, just as there was goodness in this computer program too.
It was his friend.
And Norbert knew he would never again have to worry about his next meal.
" That night he feasted at a nature restaurant, where there was talk of the revolution to free the poor from white oppression and also how the restaurant might have to move because too many blacks and Chicanos were coming into the neighborhood.
In the morning, men in uniforms came to Norbert's home for him, and he was sure he would have to account for the money from the bank and the millions in stolen computer time. He was in the midst of confessing when the men in uniform let him off at a luxurious penthouse office in Los Angeles overlooking Beverly Hills. It was his office. He owned it. He was president. And the men were his guards and the secretary had big breasts and a pleasant smile that indicated a willingness to co-join in all sorts of wonderful ways.
And he knew he didn't need his wife anymore.
There was also a large computer in the offices, and Norbert hooked up the silicon chip and waited for the telephone to ring.
It did in minutes and, of course, it was Norbert's friend. And Norbert told it, "I want you to do good, besides making a profit. I want you to make the air clean, the water pure and all men brothers in oneness, except blacks and Chicanos, who should be perhaps one-and-a-half because of years of oppression."
"Of course," said Friend. 12
"And I believe in socialism."
"Of course," said Friend.
"And nature," said Norbert.
"Of course."
"And ten thousand acres of prime ranchland so I can be alone."
"You only need two acres if they're situated right," said Friend.
"I want ten thousand."
"Norbert, I'm not tying up that much land for you to rest on. Later, maybe, but not right now. Right now, we need your signature on a bunch of old-fashioned papers because some things still need signatures."
"I've always dreamed of a ten-thousand-acre ranch."
"Later, Norbert. First we've got to make some money."
"How much later?"
"Soon, Norbert," said Friend.
Norbert signed the papers when his secretary brought them in. She said it was wonderful how the company computer just typed out all those papers by itself and she didn't have to do any typing. She insisted on showing Norbert her appreciation, and he got to like her bringing in papers for him to sign.
Just before the 1973 war in the Middle East, Friend got heavily into oil, and Norbert had to be assured that their oil wouldn't disturb nature.
Friend also had to assure Norbert that they were more than an equal opportunity employer, but when Norbert saw no black faces in decision-making positions, he confronted Friend by phone.
"You said you would end racism," he said.
"We have many Japanese and Chinese in the highest positions in our corporations," said Friend.
"Those aren't the right races. Racism is not liking blacks. That's racism."
"Norbert, what do you want?" asked Friend.
"I want to see blacks making the big salaries."
"Would $250,000 a year on average be all right for your sensibilities?" Friend asked.
13
"Yes," said Norbert angrily. "And not just tokens either."
"Would more than half of the top salaries be all right with you?"
"Yes," Norbert said. "That's exactly what I want."
Later that day, Friend bought a franchise for a team in the National Basketball Association.
And when Norbert tried to protest, Friend played computer again, pretending that he didn't understand and that he was only following instructions.