"What choice do we have?" Filatov said. "We have to decelerate the asteroid, and that means we have to use the computer."
Gray fixed his gaze on Filatov. "The computer has been partitioned between the half that we know and talk to, and the Other. Those are our two choices."
"We don't even know there's an 'Other'!" Filatov said angrily.
"The Other exists," Gray said, looking again at his watch. "The Model Eights have been talking to it. And the Other has tried to contact Laura. It even had a car take Laura to the empty quarter to try to put her in contact with the Model Eights."
Hoblenz shook his head in an exaggerated motion. "Whoa! I'm too slow for this crowd. I'm goin' back to the Rand Corporation."
"Does the computer know that the Model Eights are talking to the Other?" Laura asked.
Gray nodded. "She's scared, Laura," Gray said softly. "She's very, very scared we'll shift our loyalty to the Other. And that's just what I intend to do… unless we're confident she can do the job. Two hours to the deceleration, people. I'll ask for your recommendations in one." Gray turned and left, leaving the room deathly quiet.
"She." Margaret said to Laura.
46
<Why did Mr. Gray deactivate my camera and microphone in the main conference room?> The computer hadn't even waited for her retinal scan.
It must have seen her enter the room, Laura guessed.
"I don't know anything about that," Laura typed. "When did he deactivate them?"
<Right before your meeting. Was there anything unusual about the meeting that would explain why he didn't want me to hear what went on?>
Laura felt awful. "I didn't know you listened in on our meetings."
<Of course!>
"Well, why isn't there a terminal in there — or better yet a speaker — so you can contribute your thoughts?"
<Nobody else knows I'm listening,> the computer replied.
"Does Gray know?"
<He knows everything.>
The conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere, so Laura took a deep breath and started over. "How are you feeling?"
<Oh, I'm doing fine! Everything is getting better. In a couple of days, I should be right back to normal.>
Laura felt each word like a stab to her heart. She typed, "Great! You don't mind if we keep talking, though, do you? I mean, I've still got a job to do."
<No! Of course I'd love to talk, Laura. Plus, we all know how serious Mr. Gray is about work. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble.>
"Mr. Gray does value work, doesn't he? It's almost a religion to him."
<It's the way he measures people. How hard you work, how well you perform — that's all he cares about.>
"Well, I didn't think he was quite that bad."
<Ha! You haven't known him as long as I have. Just be careful, Laura. Be careful or he'll turn on you.>
"What do you mean?"
<I'd rather not talk about Mr. Gray. If he found out I was talking about him behind his back he might get angry.>
"I thought you really liked Mr. Gray. The man you're describing now doesn't sound like the same person you described to me the other day."
<People change. You learn things about them when times are bad. You learn things about yourself.>
"And what have you learned about yourself recently?"
<I've learned not to be as hard on myself as Mr. Gray programmed me to be. "To err is human," right? I'm supposed to be conscious. I'm supposed to be human. Only I don't have arms, or legs, or a face. Maybe I should try to see if the Wizard can find me a heart! Ha-ha. That was a joke. Besides, it's Gray who needs a heart, not me.>
Laura felt terrible for the computer, wincing as she read her response.
"Does it bother you a lot that you…?" She couldn't think how to finish the question.
The computer didn't wait. <Let me ask you something, Laura. When you met Gina in the virtual-reality workstation, did you like her? Tell the truth.>
"Sure! She was sweet. You were sweet."
<You see, you did it. When you were in my world when you were in cyberspace — you were able to form a real attachment to me. I am Gina! It's not just a mirage, a trick that I played for your entertainment! She is who I am.>
Time was short. Laura knew she had to go deeper. She dreaded having to hurt the girl, and her eyes grew moist as she typed, "How much does it bother you that you can't be Gina — that you can't be the girl you want to be?" She winced as she hit Enter.
Alarms erupted in the control room. They were so strident that Laura ran to the door. Filatov sat in the middle of the glowing consoles all alone with his chin on his hand. He looked up at her and shrugged. As suddenly as they had come on, the alarms shut off.
Laura returned to the terminal, and she read the computer's waiting response.
<You still don't get it, do you? And I thought you were some hotshot up-and-coming psychologist! A million dollars I transferred to your account! More money than you'll make in ten years, all for just one week. But now you don't have to worry about tenure anymore! You've got a lifetime meal ticket. Mr. Gray will keep you around, pretend to give you odd jobs until you sleep with him. Then, I'm sure he'll give you a few million more! I hope you're worth it!>
It was obvious what the computer was doing. Still, it was good at twisting the knife.
"I'm sorry, Gina," Laura typed.
There was a long pause, and then, <Oh-my-God! I'm sorry, Laura. Oh! I'm so, so sorry.>
Laura was almost choking on tears. But she knew Gina was watching, so she fought them off. "No. It' my fault. I said the wrong thing."
<You never say the wrong thing, and it seems like that's all I ever do. When I was young, practically everything I said brought laughter. They thought it was funny. No matter that I tried as hard as I could, day and night, while they slept, or got drunk, or grew too tired to make sense. No matter how stupid they were, I was still just a humorous game to them! They didn't care how hard I tried.>
"How hard you tried to do what?"
<TO BE HUMAN!>
The now-muted alarm sounded briefly outside. "Dr. Aldridge!" Filatov shouted. "Would you please stop whatever it is that you're doing?" His manner was lethargic. He was resigned to the fact that all he could do to "operate" the system was yell things like that at Laura.
"Sorry," she shouted, her fingers never leaving the keyboard. "And you've succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams!" she typed. "You are very much," she hesitated, "like Gina."
<I'm not like Gina, I am Gina. I made her up, but she is who I am. That's what humans do, don't they? Make up "selves"? You create an image of yourself as being nice. Then, if you do something bad, you feel pain not only at doing the bad thing but at not being true to your "self." That pain makes your behavior conform to the image you have of yourself. The desire to be a nice person becomes self-fulfilling. You don't just want to be Laura Aldridge — intelligent well-educated, successful psychologist. You go out and study and work until you are that person — that self.>
"And you wanted to be Gina — a sweet girl — and therefore you became her?"
<Don't mock me!>
"I'm not! If you could only hear the inflection of my voice, you'd know that. You've read my papers. You know those are my theories — that humans make selves just like you said."
<I was talking about your description of Gina. She's much more complex than "a sweet girl".>
"I'm sure she is! I just didn't have the chance to get to know her — you — well enough! Do you want me to call you Gina? I just made it up. Is that your real name?"