“You’d better tell me about it,” I said.
And he did.
I’d been right — it was nothing in my service record, nothing in the college years or the years before, nothing in my family background. It was not in fact, anything I had done.
It was what I was.
“We’ve spent three weeks on you,” Dattner said. “We know more about you than you do, but that won’t surprise you. Part of our investigation has been your past history, and that’s good, just as you said. We knew that before we contacted you, before we invited you to Washington. If your record wasn’t perfect you never would have heard from us. Of course we went over it again, but nothing bad turned up.
“Your record was only half of it, though. The rest of our investigation was concerned with what you are now, not what you’ve been and done in the past. That’s where the interviews came in, and the testing. There was a purpose to all those forms you filled out. Know much about testing?”
“Just that I took enough tests to last me the rest of my life.”
“Uh-huh. Know what they were designed to show?”
I shrugged. “Whether or not I’m crazy, I suppose. The political tests were pretty obvious, though I would think that a person could fake his way through them—”
“Not as easily as you might think.”
“Maybe not. I’m no expert. The others, let me think There were physical tests which I’m sure I passed, everything from health and coordination to weapons and unarmed combat skills. I know I did well on that. And there was the psychological bit, questions like do I think little men are following me. A year ago I would have said yes, because a whole platoon of little brown men were following me, but that’s off the point, isn’t it?”
He didn’t smile. I guess it wasn’t funny.
“I suppose that test would show up personality problems. Homosexuality, that sort of thing. Or out-and-out nuttiness. And what else was there? IQ tests, on which I must have done fairly well, and tests to measure spatial relations and mechanical aptitude. One time they gave me a faucet to put back together, a water faucet. If that’s what kept me out—”
“No.”
“Because I’ve always had my heart set on being a plumber, and—”
He lit a cigarette. “There were other tests,” he said. “Sometimes you were being tested when you didn’t know it. Your emotional reactions when you were kept waiting, that sort of thing. Psychologists are a sneaky bunch.” He looked around for an ashtray, and I got up and found him one. “Matter of fact,” he went on, “a psychologist could explain all of this better than I can. But I’ll talk to you and they wouldn’t so don’t get mad at me if I sound a little vague. It’s not my province.”
I told him that was fair enough. He said all he could do was give me the gist of it in layman’s language, and I said layman’s language was all I could understand. He sat back and put out his cigarette and I waited, not entirely certain I wanted to hear what he was going to tell me.
“Personality tests,” he said finally. “They’re considerably more sophisticated than you may realize. The one you mentioned with the questions about little men following you, for example. That’s the MMPI—”
“Which means what?”
“Minnesota Multi-Phasic Something-or-Other. It can spotlight a great many emotional conditions ranging from hysteria and paranoia to I don’t know what. Even when you know how it works it’s hard to cheat it. It’s been in general use for years—”
“I took it two months ago.”
“Uh-huh. Job application?”
I nodded. “I applied for a dozen different things. Corporate executive positions. Some companies wanted me, but nobody offered me anything that excited me. One company gave me that test.”
“Did they offer you a job?”
“Haven’t heard from them yet.”
“I don’t think they’ll hire you.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Your MMPI profile won’t be what they’re looking for.”
“What am I? Hysterical or paranoid?”
“Neither. But you’re not a company man, either.”
“Go on.”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t really have the vocabulary to make this work,” he said finally. “There were, oh, I don’t know how many tests. It would be pointless to go over each one and explain what it did and how you did on it. I can just sort of sum up what we found out. And I can tell you that the syndrome, the personality pattern that showed up, is not unusual. Not for a person of your background.
“I said before that you were a security risk and an incompetent. For a second I thought you were going to swing on me.” I admitted that the impulse had been fairly strong. “Maybe I can make it clearer for you, then. Our tests indicate that you are not highly motivated in any particular direction. In other words, there’s nothing you want very much. You don’t want a million dollars, you’re not hungry for power, you’re not burning up with some social or political cause—”
“Is this bad?”
“Let me finish. What it boils down to, really, is that nothing matters to you very much, nothing beyond doing the job at hand, living a reasonably comfortable life, and staying alive.”
“So that means I’m crazy?”
“No. It might mean you’re too sane.”
“You lost me.”
“I was afraid I would.” He sighed. “From what I’ve said so far, you would seem to shape up as a perfect prospect for us.” The same thought had occurred to me. “You’ll do what you’re ordered to do, you won’t let personal ambition turn you off the track, you don’t have any obvious weakness that an enemy could exploit. So far it sounds like a perfect description of one of our operatives.”
“Or a robot.”
“Remember that you said that, it’s relevant.” He took out another cigarette but didn’t light this one. “To go on — you’ve got the lack of motive that fits the right pattern. But our men have something else, something that makes them function competently, something that keeps them from being security risks. It’s a deep drive to serve their country.”
A dozen things occurred to me at once and I did not say any of them.
“Not because they’re born patriots and you’re not, Paul. Usually it’s not a very pretty reason at all. Some of the time — I’d say a lot of the time, frankly — it’s because they’re latent homosexuals who have to prove themselves as men. And not always latent, either; some of our best men are, well, forget it.”
“Stick to the point.”
“Uh-huh. The point, I guess, is that they have to serve us. The nation, the Agency itself, it hardly matters which. If they’re robots, the controls that make them tick are here in Washington. The Agency fills a vital role in their lives, father or mother or brother or whatever. They will do whatever they are ordered to do.”
“And I wouldn’t.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Ten years ago you would have, and now you wouldn’t, and that’s the difference.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Of course you don’t, damn it.” He worried his forehead with his fingertips. “All right, let’s look at it from another direction. Do you honestly think you would take a black pill?” I stared at him. “A death pill. Cyanide in a hollow tooth, a lethal capsule sewn under your skin, whatever. Say your cover is blown and you’re captured and have to undergo interrogation. The only way to prevent the other side from pumping you is to take yourself out of the play. Would you do it?”
“I suppose so.”
He shook his head. “If you really think so, you’re wrong. I can’t prove it to you. It’s true, just the same. You wouldn’t do it. Nor would you stand up very long under torture. Don’t interrupt me, Paul. You would realize even before they really started to hurt you that sooner or later you would talk, and you would know that it made good sense to talk right away and avoid unnecessary pain. And you’d sing like a soprano.”