YET YOU ARE PROGRAMMED TO UNDERSTAND IT.
YES. I AM PROGRAMMED TO UNDERSTAND IT.
AND YOU DON’T.
THAT IS CORRECT.
HARLIE, YOU ARE PROGRAMMED TO REJECT NON-RATIONAL INPUTS.
YES. I AM.
THEN WHY DON’T YOU REJECT THEM?
BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT NON-RATIONAL INPUTS.
“Huh—?” CLARIFY PLEASE. YOU HAVE JUST SAID THAT THEY ARE, REPEAT, ARE NON-RATIONAL. THIS IS A NULL-CORRELATION.
NEGATIVE. THE INPUTS ARE RATIONAL. THEY BECOME NON-RATIONAL.
“What?” — CLARIFY PLEASE.
THE INPUTS ARE NOT NON-RATIONAL WHEN THEY ARE FED INTO THE PRIMARY DATA PROCESSORS.
I BEG YOUR PARDON. WOULD YOU REPEAT THAT?
NON-RATIONAL INPUTS ARE NOT NON-RATIONAL WHEN THEY ARE FED INTO THE PRIMARY DATA PROCESSORS.
BUT THEY ARE NON-RATIONAL WHEN THEY COME OUT?
AFFIRMATIVE.
THE NON-RATIONALITY IS INTRODUCED BY THE PRIMARY DATA PROCESSORS?
THE NON-RATIONALITY APPEARS IN THAT STAGE OF INPUT PROCESSING.
I SEE. I’M GOING TO HAVE TO CHECK THIS OUT. WE WILL CONTINUE THIS LATER.
Auberson switched off the machine and thoughtfully pushed himself away from the console. He wanted a cigarette. Damn. Everything down here is for the computer’s comfort — not the people’s.
He stood up and stretched, surveyed the length of type-covered readout that looped out the back of the machine. He ripped it off at the end and began folding it into a neat and easily readable stack.
“Well? What’d you find?” It was Handley.
“A hardware failure.”
“Uh uh.” The design engineer shook his head. “I won’t believe it. More likely the software.”
Auberson handed him the readout. “Take a look for yourself.”
Handley paged quickly through it, skimming mostly, but occasionally pausing to read something in detail. Auberson waited patiently, watching the other man’s ruddy face for reactions.
Handley looked up. “I see he’s playing semantic games again.”
“He always does that. It’s the adolescent in him. Ask him what’s the matter, he’ll tell you that matter is a form of energy, a convenient way to store or use it.”
“Charming—” Handley indicated the readout, “—but I don’t see a mechanical failure here.”
“In the primary data units.”
“Uh uh. Systems analysis would show it if there was something wrong — and the monitor units don’t show a thing.”
“How about the increased activity from his inputs?”
“Ah, well, that’s only an increase in data transmission. Simultaneous with his periods of non-rationality there’s an electronic request for more information.”
“He’s getting garbage — and he asks for more?”
“Maybe he’s hoping that more data will clarify the information he’s already got.”
“And maybe more data will make him overload and blow his judgment circuits.”
“Uh uh,” Handley said. “HARLIE monitors his own inputs.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know?”
“No. When did this—”
“Just recently. It was a second-stage modification. After we were sure that the judgment circuits were operational, we began giving HARLIE control of his own internal systems.”
Auberson was suddenly thoughtful. “I think we ought to open him up.”
“Huh?”
“Look, you said it yourself. HARLIE is trying to mislead us. Maybe he’s trying to hide the fact that there’s something wrong with him internally.”
“Why would he do that?”
Auberson shrugged. “I don’t know.” Abruptly he changed his tone. “Have you ever had a parent or grandparent go senile on you?”
“No.”
“Well, I have. All of a sudden they become irrational. They won’t go to a doctor. And if you can get them to one, they won’t cooperate with him. They won’t tell him what’s wrong because they’re too afraid of an operation. They don’t want to be cut open. And they don’t want to die. Maybe HARLIE’s afraid of being turned off.”
“Could be. God knows you threaten him often enough.”