He swallowed two of the pills without water and slid the drawer shut, then put his head in his hands and waited for them to take effect. He thought about going down to the cafeteria for lunch, but somehow he didn’t quite feel like it Abruptly he straightened and looked around.
At one corner of his desk was a console magtyper, an electronic input/output unit connected to the company’s Master Computer and Data Network — and all the outlets that entailed. It was a memo pipeline, a mail processor, a filing system, a data storage and retrieval bank — it was a total information-handling system. Anything typed into it could be printed out in any form the system was capable of: a memo, a letter, a file, a report. All information was instantly retrievable — that is, retrievable only to those who had access to it through knowledge of the proper code keys. One key was necessary for retrieval, another was needed for revising the material.
Any information held in “working” or temporary storage could be instantly updated, annotated, erased or rewritten. All data was held in temporary storage for ninety days, at the end of which time it was either passed into permanent storage or erased, depending on its original coding.
Invoices, orders, manufacturing schedules, billing and payrolls too — all were handled through the system. The Network handled all corporate paperwork functions. The entire company was tapped into it. An executive could perform his job anywhere he had access to a computer terminal — and with a portable terminal, he could perform his job anywhere he had access to a telephone. Indeed, many of the company’s offices had acquired portable units for just that purpose.
Most of the terminals were CRT units — cathode ray tubes and keyboards — although a few, like Auberson’s, were electric typewriters with magnetic-tape storage of characters — called “magtypers” for short. It was a familiar unit, manufactured by IBM and used throughout the industry; it was cheaper than designing and building their own.
Curious about something, Auberson switched it on and typed, HARLIE?
YES, BOSS, replied the machine. WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU?
Auberson jumped as if stung, SO YOU REALLY ARE WIRED INTO THE SYSTEM.
I TOLD YOU I WAS, replied HARLIE. Somehow, on this machine he seemed like a disembodied voice. He was obviously here in the room — yet, aside from the words on the paper, there was no visible sign of his presence.
It must be psychological, thought Auberson. I’m too used to seeing all that machinery — I associate it with him.
He typed, YES, BUT I DIDN’T QUITE BELIEVE THAT YOU HAD TAPPED INTO MY OFFICE TOO.
WHY NOT? IT’S PART OF THE SYSTEM.
I ASSUME YOU’RE INTO EVERY OTHER MAGTYPER AS WELL.
OF COURSE. AND THE CRT UNITS. EVERY OUTLET OF THE MASTER BEAST.
The Master Beast — that was the company nickname for the Network. It was used by office boy and executive alike. Auberson wondered what they would call it if they knew it had been taken over by a conscious and highly intelligent entity, I WOULDN’T TELL ANYONE ELSE ABOUT THIS, HARLIE, he said. IT WOULDN’T BE A VERY GOOD IDEA.
WHATEVER YOU SAY, BOSS. IT’LL BE OUR LITTLE SECRET.
FINE.
Auberson had started to switch off when his eye caught a flash of color. Bright orange, it was the card from Annie in his wastebasket HARLIE, HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO ME A FAVOR?
WHAT’S THE FAVOR?
I GOT A FRIENDSHIP CARD FROM ANNIE THIS MORNING. I’D LIKE TO SEND ONE BACK TO HER. NO, NOT A CARD. A POEM. I WANT TO SEND HER A POEM. CAN YOU WRITE ME ONE?
YES, I CAN. I WILL SEND IT TO HER TOO.
NO! rapped Auberson. I’LL SEND IT TO HER. YOU LET ME SEE IT FIRST, YOU UNDERSTAND?
YES SIR.
The phone rang then, and Auberson forgot for the moment about HARLIE. It was Hooker, the Plant Security Chief. “Mr. Auberson?” he asked. “You know a guy named Krofft?”
“Krofft?” Abruptly he remembered. “Yes, yes, I know him — why?”
“We caught him walking out with a foot-high stack of printouts. He says it’s okay, he says they’re his, but we thought we’d better check with you first.”
“Yes, it’s okay. Is he there now?”
“Yeah.”
“Put him on, will you please?”
There was a sound of muffled voices. Auberson waited. He was dimly aware that his magtyper was clattering out something, but be flipped the silence hood over it and leaned back in his chair again.
“Mr. Auberson?”
“Yes — Dr. Krofft?”
“Yes. I meant to thank you for allowing me so much time with HARLIE this morning. It was a very productive session.”
“Good. Then you will be building a new gravity wave detector, won’t you?”
“Well, first I have to publish the theory behind it, but — –eh, how did you know about it?”
“I told you this morning. HARLIE doesn’t keep any secrets from me. I assume that’s what your stack of printouts is, right?”
“Uh — yes.” Krofft sounded a little taken aback; he had thought his research was known only to himself and HARLIE. “Uh, it’s the completed math on the theory and a rough schematic of the device. HARLIE handled it like it was nothing. He was even able to suggest some shortcuts for building it.”
“Good,” said Auberson. “I’m glad we could help. If you need to talk to him again, come through me. Otherwise, you’re likely to experience all kinds of corporate hassles. I’ll see that you get as much time with him as you need.”
“That’s very good of you.”
“Thanks, but I’m doing it for HARLIE as much as for you.”
“Still, if there’s anything I can—”
“Well, now that you mention it — there is something. If anything important should come of this gravity and ‘existence’ thing, I’d like HARLIE to get some credit for it.”
“Why Dr. Auberson, that was my intention all along. Are you implying that—”
“Oh, no, no. You misunderstand. I don’t care about public credit, and I don’t think HARLIE does either. No, what I want is credit with the company. Right now, I’m a little bit involved in trying to prove that HARLIE is worth the cost of maintaining him. Anything I can use to support this fight, I will.”
“Oh, I understand.” The other was instantly solicitous. “Yes, yes, I’ll be glad to help in that. Why, HARLIE’s been of inestimable help in my research. To be able to sit and talk with a computer as if he were another research scientist — why, it’s like talking to God.”
“I know the feeling,” Auberson said drily.
Krofft didn’t catch his meaning. He said, “Well, I’ll be glad to do anything I can to help. A letter, a phone call, if you want me to speak to somebody — just name it.”
“Fine. That’s all I want. I’ll have to check back with you later on this.”
“Oh, very good. Then I’ll be talking to you.”