“That’s a good question, James, and it deserves an honest answer. With me, I really didn’t have a choice, or rather, the choice was made for me. It’s a family business, and I was raised into it. For me, it’s as natural as breathing. For many reasons, I couldn’t leave it now if I wanted to. But I’ll tell you this much, James, I’m not particularly happy with what I do. Sometimes I wonder, if I were starting all over again and given a choice, and I knew what I know now, if I wouldn’t walk away from it all without looking back. You’ve got that choice, and I want you to “think it through before commiting yourself.”
James bit his lip thoughtfully. “All right, Hosato,” he said. “Tell me about this terrible life. What do you do?”
Now it was Hosato’s turn to lapse into silence. Waves of bitter memories held in check by sheer force of will now flooded over him. He had set himself up for this question; now he had to answer it, both for the boy and for himself.
“I’m a killing machine,” he said quietly. “I kill people. Not because they’re a threat or even because they may have offended me—not that that’s a good reason. I kill because I’m paid to.”
He fixed James with a calm gaze as he continued.
“You want to know what it means to be in my line of work. I said you don’t have any friends. Well, that was a lie. You have lots of friends. But your profession makes a mockery of the word 'friendship.' You worm your way into people’s confidence, and when they trust you implicitly, you destroy them. Rick’s my friend. We used to drink together back at Mc. Crae. All the time we were together, I was getting information to shut the complex down. At the veiy least, it would have put him out of work—permanently, if anyone ever found out he was a security leak. If he had found out what I was about or surprised me while I was working, I would have killed him.”
He deliberately let his voice harden. “You remember what it’s like to kill people, don’t you?”
James’s gaze wavered and dropped to the floor.
Hosato fought and conquered an urge to console the boy. He waited in silence while the boy relived his first blooding.
“Hosato,” James said at last, not lifting his gaze, “I don’t know about the killing. Back at Ravensteel, when I killed those men… I don’t know. I’m glad I saved our lives, that I was good enough with weapons to do it, but I still feel a little sick when I think about it!”
“Are you proud?” Hosato asked.
“What?” James raised his eyes at last.
“Are you proud of killing two men. If you get a chance, are you going to brag about it to the Hungarian?”
The boy hesitated, then dropped his gaze once more and shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “They were just enemies I killed. They weren’t people, I guess. They were just enemies.”
“Look at me, James,” Hosato demanded. He fixed his eyes deep into James. “They were people you killed. They weren’t robots that you terminated. They were two human beings, lives with loved ones, lives with dreams—people capable of wonderful things, as well, of course, as killing you. They weren’t just enemies, they were human beings.”
Hosato slid an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “James,” he said. “Let me tell you what my grandfather told me, the same grandfather who trained me for this work. He said, 'You must learn to kill because it is necessary. To be effective, you must kill coldly and without hesitation. But killing is not to be taken lightly nor is it to be taken pridefully. Kill as well, as skillfully as you can, knowing that killing is man’s fatal flaw.'
“That’s good advice, James. Listen to it.”
They both turned, to find Sasha framed in the door.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but I think we’ve got something out here.”
Hosato clapped James lightly on the back. “Think about what I’ve said. There’s no rush. Now, go on ahead. There’s something I want to say to Sasha.”
The boy’s eyes darted between the two of them, and he smiled.
“Okay, Hosato,” he said, vaulting down off the counter. “I’ll tell them you’ll be there in a minute.”
“The kid looks like he’ll pull through this okay,” Sasha commented, watching James’s departure.
“Sasha,” Hosato began, “we’ve got to talk.”
“No,” she said firmly. “It’s pointless to talk about the future until we know for sure if we’ve got one. Now, come on and join the group. This is important.”
She was gone before Hosato could reply, leaving him no choice but to follow her back into the other room.
“There you are!” the Hungarian called. “For a world-saver, you spend a lot of time goofing off.”
“What have you got?” Hosato asked, ignoring the jibe.
“Well,” the Hungarian said, leisurely lighting his pipe, “the problem is that Turner didn’t think things through. That’s always a mistake. There’s always the temptation to let the computers do our thinking for us because they do it so much faster. It’s quicker to rough out an idea and let the machines develop it, then fine-tune it until it does what we want.”
Hosato writhed with impatience, but knew from experience it was useless to try to rush the Hungarian.
“That’s what Turner did, and learned the bard way the price of turning development over to machines. They think fast, too fast. Any mistake that’s made is carried out before you can correct your input, and Turner made a beaut.”
“Which was…?” Hosato prompted.
“He changed the 'no-kill' program. Now, he wasn’t completely stupid. He gave the computer specific parameters. He gave it the capacity to kill, to defend itself… if the computer or the manufacturing units were threatened.”
“What’s wrong with that?” James asked.
“Two things,” the Hungarian replied. “First of all, he didn’t define completely what constituted a threat, so the computer came up with its own definition.”
“So when Turner tried to shut down the operation, the computer interpreted it as a threat and had the prototypes kill him!” Sasha completed the thought with sudden awareness.
“Exactly.” The Hungarian beamed.
“That can’t be all of it, Tinker,” Hosato insisted. “I wasn’t directly threatening the operation when the robots took their first two tries at me… and certainly the families in the living mall weren’t a threat. What happened there?”
“That’s Turner’s second mistake,” the Hungarian announced, relighting his pipe. “Actually, it involves a completely different command, way back at the beginning of the project. Apparently Turner was afraid of anyone else stealing his idea, so he did two things. Fust, he put a voice lock on his program terminal. Second, he instructed the computer to keep the project secret from anyone who did not enter the program from his terminal. He was very explicit, instructing the computer to guard the Secret with every power at its disposal.”
“How was it supposed to do that?” Hosato asked.
“By giving meaningless or misdirecting information when asked,” Sasha informed him. “It’s a very bright computer and can be incredibly evasive when it wants. What I don’t understand is how that affects things. Most of the line managers put in secret preserving instructions when they start a new project. They’re paranoid that way. What makes Turner’s instructions any different?”
“You’re right, Sasha,” the Hungarian agreed. “By itself it’s quite innocent. The trouble comes when you add his later order giving the computer a kill capacity. Now killing is within its power, and it is to do everything in its power to preserve Turner’s secret. See the problem?”
“Oh, my God!” Sasha gasped as the enormity of the situation dawned on her.
The group sat in stunned silence. Only the Hungarian seemed unperturbed, puffing on his pipe as he continued.