"Hard to make out," Barris said, after straining in vain. "Impossible at first. It takes awhile. After you've listened to it as much as we have-"
Barris nodded in disappointment. "I thought maybe we'd wind up with better results. But I know you did everything possible."
"We're working on a wholly new sorting mechanism. Given three or four more weeks, we'll possibly have something far superior to this."
"Too long," Barris said instantly. Far too long. The uprising at Chicago, far from being reversed by Unity police, had spread into adjoining states and was now nearing a union with a similar Movement action in the area around St. Louis. "In four weeks," he said to the repairmen gathered around, "we'll probably be wearing coarse brown robes. And instead of trying to patch up this stuff-" he indicated the vast gleaming structure containing the extant elements of Vulcan 2-"we'll more likely be tearing it down."
It was a grim joke, and none of the repairmen smiled. Barris said, "I'd like to listen to this noise." He indicated the roar from the wall speaker. "Why don't you all clear out for a little while, so I can see what I can pick up."
At that point Smith and his crew departed. Barris took up a position in front of the speaker and prepared himself for a long session.
Somewhere, lost in the fog of random and meaningless sound, were faint traces of words. Computations-the vague unwinding of the memory elements as the newly-constructed scanner moved over the old remains. Barris clasped his hands together, tensing himself in an effort to hear.
"....progressive bifurcation..."
One phrase; he had picked out something, small as it was, one jot from the chaos.
"... social elements according to new patterns previously developed..."
Now he was getting longer chains of words, but they signified nothing; they were incomplete.
"... exhaustion of mineral formations no longer pose the problem that was faced earlier during the ..." The words faded out into sheer noise; he lost the thread.
Vulcan 2 was in no sense functioning; there were no new computations. These were rising up, frozen and dead, formation from out of the past, from the many years that the computer had operated.
"....certain problems of identity previously matters of conjecture and nothing more... vital necessity of understanding the integral factors involved in the transformation from mere cognition to full..."
As he listened, Barris lit a cigarette. Time passed. He heard more and more of the disjointed phrases; they became, in his mind, an almost dreamlike ocean of sound, flecks appearing on the surface of the ceaseless roar, appearing and then sinking back. Like particles of animate matter, differentiated for an instant and then once more absorbed.
On and on the sound droned, endlessly.
It was not until four days later that he heard the first useful sequence. Four days of wearisome listening, consuming all his time, keeping him from the urgent matters that demanded his attention back at his office. But when he got the sequence, he knew that he had done right; the effort, the time, were justified.
He was sitting before the speaker in a semidoze, his eyes shut, his thoughts wandering-and then suddenly he was on his feet, wide-awake.
"... this process is greatly accelerated in 3 ... if the tendencies noted in 1 and 2 are continued and allowed to develop it would be necessary to withdraw certain data for the possible..."
The words faded out. Holding his breath, his heart hammering, Barris stood rigid. After a moment the words rushed back, swelling up and deafening him.
"... Movement would activate too many subliminal proclivities ... doubtful if 3 is yet aware of this process .. information on the Movement at this point would undoubtedly create a critical situation in which 3 might begin to..."
Barris cursed. The words were gone again. Furiously, he ground out his cigarette and waited impatiently; unable to sit still he roamed about the room. Jason Dill had been telling the truth, then. That much was certain. Again he settled down before the speaker, struggling to force from the noise a meaningful pattern of verbal units.
"... the appearance of cognitive faculties operating on a value level demonstrates the widening of personality surpassing the strictly logical ... 3 differs essentially in manipulation of nonrational values of an ultimate kind... construction included reinforced and cumulative dynamic factors permitting 3 to make decisions primarily associated with nonmechanical or ... it would be impossible for 3 to function in this capacity without a creative rather than an analytical faculty... such judgments cannot be rendered on a strictly logical level... the enlarging of 3 into dynamic levels creates an essentially new entity not explained by previous terms known to..."
For a moment the vague words drifted off, as Barris strained tensely to hear. Then they returned with a roar, as if some basic reinforced memory element had been touched. The vast sound made him flinch; involuntarily he put his hands up to protect his ears.
"... level of operation can be conceived in no other fashion... for all intents and purposes... if such as 3's actual construction... then 3 is in essence alive..."
Alive!
Barris leaped to his feet. More words, diminishing, now. Drifting away into random noise.
"... with the positive will of goal-oriented living creatures... therefore 3 like any other living creature is basically concerned with survival... knowledge of the Movement might create a situation in which the necessity of survival would cause 3 to... the result might be catastrophic... to be avoided at... unless more can ... a critical ... 3 ...if..."
Silence.
It was so, then. The verification had come.
Barris hurried out of the room, past Smith and the repair crew. "Seal it off. "Don't let anybody in; throw up an armed guard right away. Better install a fail-safe barrier -one that will demolish everything in there rather than admitting unauthorized persons." He paused meaningfully. "You understand?"
Nodding, Smith said, "Yes, sir."
As he left them, they stood staring after him. And then, one by one, they started into activity, to do as he had instructed.
He grabbed the first Unity surface car in sight and sped back across New York to his office. Should he contact Dill by vidscreen? he asked himself. Or wait until they could confer face-to-face? It was a calculated risk to use the communication channels, even the closed-circuits ones. But he couldn't delay; he had to act.
Snapping on the car's vidset he raised the New York monitor. "Get me Managing Director Dill," he ordered. "This is an emergency."
They held back data from Vulcan 3 for nothing, he said to himself. Because Vulcan 3 is primarily a data-analyzing machine, and in order to analyze it must have all the relevant data. And so, he realized, in order to do its job it had to go out and get the data. If data were not being brought to it, if Vulcan 3 deduced that relevant data were not in its possession, it would have no choice; it would have to construct some system for more successful data-collecting. The logic of its very nature would force it to.