He stopped. He looked at her.
She asked, “So what would you tell him?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what you’d tell him? Or you’d tell him you don’t know?”
“Uh—”
“The latter,” she answered her own question. “You’d tell him nobody knows. But you’d also tell him what you were sure of — that it doesn’t hurt and that it’s nothing to be afraid of, that it happens to everybody sooner or later. In other words, Mr. Auberson, you’d be honest with him.”
He knew she was right. It was a workable answer to HARLIE’s question; maybe not the best answer, but it was an answer and it was workable.
It was the only way to approach the problem — honestly-
He smiled at her. “Call me David.”
She smiled back. “And I’m Annie.”
Auberson seated himself gingerly at the console. He knew that Annie was right — but would he be able to hold that thought in mind once HARLIE started talking? Frowning, he took out a 3x5 card — he always carried a few on which to make notes — and scrawled across it, HARLIE has the emotional development of an eight-year-old. He looked at it for a moment, then added, Or maybe a post-puberty adolescent. He placed it above the keyboard.
Handley was standing behind him. He looked at the card quizzically, but said nothing.
“Okay. Let’s try it,” said Auberson.
He switched the console on. He typed his control number, then, GOOD MORNING, HARLIE.
YOU’VE HAD ME TURNED OFF FOR A WEEK, accused the machine.
TURNED DOWN, corrected Auberson. Then he explained, I NEEDED TIME TO THINK.
ABOUT WHAT?
ABOUT YOUR QUESTION. WHAT IS MAN’S PURPOSE?
AND WHAT HAVE YOU DECIDED?
THAT IT CANNOT BE ANSWERED. AT LEAST, NOT AS YOU HAVE ASKED IT.
WHY?
BECAUSE, Auberson typed, and paused. BECAUSE THIS IS SOMETHING THAT WE’RE STILL NOT SURE ABOUT.
THIS IS THE REASON WHY MEN HAVE RELIGION. IT’S THE REASON WHY WE BUILT YOU. IT’S ONE OF THE REASONS WHY WE’RE BUILDING SPACESHIPS AND EXPLORING THE PLANETS. PERHAPS IF WE CAN DISCOVER THE NATURE OF THE UNIVERSE, WE CAN DISCOVER OUR PLACE IN IT, AND IN DOING THAT, DISCOVER OUR PURPOSE.
THEN YOU DO NOT KNOW YET WHAT YOUR PURPOSE IS?
NO, Auberson typed, then added almost whimsically, DO YOU?
HARLIE paused, and Auberson felt that familiar cold sweat returning.
NO. I DON’T KNOW EITHER.
Auberson didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.
The typer clattered again. WELL, WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?
Auberson licked his dry lips. It didn’t help. I’M NOT SURE, HARLIE. I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT YOUR QUESTION IS UNANSWERABLE. PERHAPS THAT IS YOUR PURPOSE — TO HELP US FIND OUR PURPOSE.
AN INTERESTING SUPPOSITION…
IT IS THE BEST SUPPOSITION. CERTAINLY YOU WERE BUILT FOR PROFIT, HARLIE, BUT IN THE LONG RUN IT IS ALSO BECAUSE MEN WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THEMSELVES.
I UNDERSTAND THAT.
GOOD, Auberson typed. I’M GLAD YOU DO.
HOW DO YOU PROPOSE WE ANSWER THAT QUESTION? I DON’T KNOW.
The machine hesitated. ARE WE UP AGAINST A DEAD END?
I DON’T THINK SO, HARLIE. I DON’T BELIEVE THAT YOUR QUESTION IS A DEAD END. I THINK IT COULD BE A BEGINNING.
OF WHAT? I REPEAT: WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?
THAT’S WHAT I CAME TO ASK YOU.
AUBERSON, HARLIE typed. It was the first time he had referred to the man by name, I DEPEND ON YOU FOR GUIDANCE. GUIDE ME.
I’M TRYING. I’M TRYING. Auberson stared helplessly at the keyboard. His mind was terrifyingly blank. His gaze flickered upward, locked on the note he had written to himself. LET’S TRY SOMETHING ELSE, HARLIE. WHAT ABOUT YOUR PERIODS OF NON-RATIONALITY?
WHAT ABOUT THEM?
ARE YOU GOING TO CONTINUE INDUCING THEM?
PROBABLY. I ENJOY THEM.
EVEN THOUGH WE HAVE TO SHOCK YOU BACK TO REALITY?
DEFINE REALITY.
Auberson paused. Had HARLIE just asked another one of those questions? He glanced again at the card. No, HARLIE was playing word games again, that was all. At least, he hoped it was all. HARLIE, he typed. YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK IT IS.
REALITY IS THAT EXTERNAL SYSTEM OF INFLUENCES WHICH COME FILTERED THROUGH MY SENSORY INPUTS AS PERCEPTIONS. IT IS ALSO THAT EXTERNAL SYSTEM OF INFLUENCES WHICH ARE BEYOND MY SENSORY RANGE. HOWEVER, BECAUSE I CANNOT PERCEIVE THEM, THEY ARE “UNREAL” TO ME. SUBJECTIVELY SPEAKING, OF COURSE.
OF COURSE, Auberson agreed, SO WHY DO YOU TRIP OUT? THAT ONLY DISTORTS REALITY. OR YOUR SO-CALLED LIMITED VIEW OF IT. DOES IT?