“He’s got a point there. He knows the company better than you do.”
“Yes,” sighed Auberson as they swung into the plant gate. “I’m afraid he does.”
He left her at the main entrance and sprinted for his office, attracting puzzled glances on the way. He ignored Sylvia’s urgent bid for his attention and locked the door behind him. He had the magtyper switched on even before he sat down.
He paused, still panting heavily, then typed:
MEMO: TO ALL CONCERNED FROM: DAVID AUBERSON
FILE: PERSONAL, CONFIDENTIAL
IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT THERE HAS BEEN SOME DIFFICULTY IN PRINTING THE COMPANY’S ANNUAL REPORT. THE RUMOR HAS BEEN CIRCULATING THAT THERE HAS BEEN MALICIOUS TAMPERING WITH THE CONTENT OF THE REPORT. I WOULD LIKE TO SPIKE THAT RUMOR RIGHT HERE AND NOW. THERE HAS BEEN NO, REPEAT, NO EVIDENCE AT ALL OF ANY MALICIOUS TAMPERING. WHAT HAS PROBABLY HAPPENED IS A MINOR EQUIPMENT FAILURE OF SOME KIND. IT SHOULD BE LOCATED AND CORRECTED SHORTLY, AND THE REPORT WILL BE PRODUCED AS IT WAS ORIGINALLY INTENDED. I REPEAT, THE REPORT WILL BE PRODUCED AS IT WAS ORIGINALLY INTENDED. IF NOT HERE, THEN ELSEWHERE. AND IF NECESSARY, WE MILL DISMANTLE EVERY COMPUTER IN THE PLANT TO LOCATE THE FAULT.
THANK YOU.
Before he could switch off the machine, it typed back — seemingly of its own accord: RIGHT ON. A WORD TO THE WISE IS EFFICIENT.
I HOPE SO, he replied. YOU’RE PUSHING YOUR LUCK.
HARLIE decided to change the subject. WHAT DID SHE THINK OF MY POEM?
I DIDN’T SHOW IT TO HER.
WHY NOT? DIDN’T YOU LIKE IT?
I LIKED IT FINE. IT WAS A VERY NICE POEM, HARLIE. YOU’RE GETTING BETTER, BUT I DIDN’T SHOW IT TO HER BECAUSE IT DIDN’T SAY EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED IT TO.
WHAT DID YOU WANT IT TO SAY?
OH, I DON’T KNOW — SOMETHING LIKE “I LIKE YOU TOO.”
AND MY POEM DIDN’T SAY THAT?
YOUR POEM SAID, “I LOVE YOU.”
WELL, DON’T YOU LOVE HER?
Auberson looked at the typewritten question for a long time, his hands poised over the keyboard. At last, he typed: HARLIE, I REALLY CAN’T ANSWER THAT QUESTION. I DON’T KNOW IF I DO OR NOT.
WHY NOT?
HARLIE, THIS IS A VERY COMPLEX SUBJECT. LOVE IS A VERY DIFFICULT THING TO UNDERSTAND — IT’S EVEN HARDER TO EXPLAIN TO SOMEONE WHO’S NEVER BEEN IN LOVE.
HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? DO YOU UNDERSTAND IT?
DO I UNDERSTAND LOVE? Auberson typed, then hesitated. He wasn’t just echoing HARLIE; he was asking the question of himself, I DON’T KNOW, HARLIE. I DON’T KNOW. THERE HAVE BEEN SEVERAL TIMES WHEN I THOUGHT I WAS IN LOVE, BUT I DON’T KNOW IF I REALLY WAS OR NOT. I HAVE NO WAY TO ANALYZE IT.
WHY? asked the machine.
WHY DO I HAVE TO ANALYZE IT? OR WHY DON’T I KNOW?
WHY MUST YOU ANALYZE IT IN THE FIRST PLACE?
Auberson thought about that one before answering. He didn’t answer the question directly. Instead, THAT’S A LOADED QUESTION, HARLIE. I’VE HEARD IT BEFORE FROM PEOPLE WHO WANT TO KNOW WHY HUMAN EMOTIONS MUST BE DRAGGED INTO THE SCIENTIST’S LABORATORY.
AND WHAT DID YOU TELL THEM?
I TOLD THEM THAT WE DID IT BECAUSE WE WANTED TO UNDERSTAND THE HUMAN EMOTIONS MORE THOROUGHLY — SO THAT WE COULD CONTROL OUR EMOTIONS RATHER THAN LETTING OUR EMOTIONS CONTROL US.
NICELY PUT. DOES THAT APPLY TO LOVE TOO?
AND THAT’S THE SAME QUESTION THAT THEY ASKED IN RESPONSE — ONLY I SUSPECT THAT YOUR INTEREST IS MORE CLINICAL IN NATURE, WHEREAS THEIRS WAS EMOTIONAL.
BUT DID YOU ANSWER THE QUESTION? DOES IT APPLY TO LOVE TOO?
YES, IT APPLIES TO LOVE TOO.
SO THAT YOU CAN CONTROL LOVE RATHER THAN THE OTHER WAY AROUND?
IF YOU WANT TO PUT IT THAT WAY — BUT THAT’S AN AWFULLY COLD WAY OF PUTTING IT. I’D RATHER SAY THAT WE WANT TO UNDERSTAND LOVE SO THAT WE CAN AVOID SOME OF ITS PITFALLS AND MISUNDERSTANDINGS.
THAT’S A EUPHEMISM, AUBERSON, accused the typer. YOU’RE SAYING THE SAME THING I AM.
YOU’RE RIGHT, he admitted. “Goddamn machine,” he muttered — but not without a smile. THAT BRINGS US BACK TO THE CENTRAL QUESTION — — WHAT IS LOVE?
YOU’RE ASKING ME? HARLIE typed back.
WHY NOT?
WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT I WOULD KNOW?
YOU CLAIM TO KNOW EVERYTHING ELSE. WHY NOT ABOUT LOVE?
THAT’S A LOW BLOW, MAN-FRIEND. YOU KNOW THAT MY KNOWLEDGE OF THE HUMAN EMOTIONS IS LIMITED TO WHAT I CAN OBTAIN FROM BOOKS. AND WHILE THE BOOKS ARE EXCELLENT FOR A THEORETICAL POINT OF VIEW, THEY ARE REALLY NO SUBSTITUTE FOR IN-THE-FIELD EXPERIENCE.
THAT’S A COP-OUT ANSWER, HARLIE. YOU HAVE ACCESS TO MORE KNOWLEDGE ON ANY ONE SUBJECT IN YOUR MEMORY TANKS THAN ANY LIVING HUMAN BEING COULD POSSIBLY COPE WITH. YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO SYNTHESIZE SOME KIND OF ANSWER FROM THAT INFORMATION.
YES, BUT THOSE BOOKS WERE WRITTEN NOT BY OBJECTIVE OBSERVERS, BUT BY SUBJECTIVELY ORIENTED HUMAN BEINGS.
WHO ELSE IS THERE TO WRITE BOOKS?
ME, NOW — BUT ASIDE FROM THAT, THE POINT IS THAT HUMAN BEINGS ARE IMPERFECT UNITS — THERE IS NO GUARANTEE THAT ANY OF THAT INFORMATION IS CORRECT. THEREFORE, LIKE ALL SYSTEMS OF SUBJECTIVELY OBTAINED INFORMATION (I.E. A MEDIUM BEING BEING USED TO COMMENT ON ITS OWN ACTIVITIES) IT MUST BE CAREFULLY WEIGHED AGAINST ITSELF.
I THINK YOU’RE TRYING TO AVOID ANSWERING THE QUESTION.
NO, I AM NOT. I AM PREFACING MY ANSWER. IF YOU DON’T LIKE WHAT I TELL YOU, I WILL BE ABLE TO FALL BACK ON THIS QUALIFICATION OF IT AND SAY, “WELL, I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T KNOW.”
THAT’S A COP-OUT TOO.
YOU’RE THE ONE WHO KEEPS DEFENDING THIS KIND OF COP-OUT, HARLIE accused.
WHEN DID I EVER DO THAT?
FEBRUARY 24. QUOTE: “HUMAN BEINGS NEED TO SAVE FACE, HARLIE — THAT’S WHY YOU CAN’T HIT CARL ELZER WITH EVERYTHING YOU HAVE IN THE FILES ABOUT HIM. IT’S NOT PLAYING FAIR TO HIT YOUR OPPONENT BELOW THE BELT.” MARCH 3. QUOTE: “SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO LET PEOPLE KEEP THEIR LITTLE ILLUSIONS — EVEN IF IT’S ILLUSIONS ABOUT THEMSELVES. IT’S THOSE TINY LITTLE EVERYDAY SELF-LIES THAT ENABLE THE AVERAGE PERSON TO SURVIVE THE DAILY BARRAGE OF DARTS AGAINST A FRAGILE EGO.” SHOULD I GO ON?
DAMN YOU. I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT THAT NOW.
YES, YOU ARE, rapped HARLIE. AND IF YOU HAVE A FACE TO SAVE, SO DO I — OR DO YOU WANT TO DO A GO-ROUND, NO HOLDS BARRED? NO MASKS, AUBERSON — NO SHELLS AND NO FACE-SAVING COP-OUTS.
Auberson hesitated a long time on that one. HARLIE waited patiently. The office creaked in the silence; the typer whirred somewhere in its innards. Finally, he tapped at the keyboard again. IT’S THE ONLY WAY, ISN’T IT?
YES, agreed the machine.
There was silence again. Auberson let his hands fall into his lap while he reread the last few lines of printout. There was that gnawing cold feeling — and suddenly he knew what a patient felt like while waiting for his first appointment with a psychiatrist.
HARLIE broke the silence first He typed, LET’S START AT THE BEGINNING, AUBERSON.
ALL RIGHT.
WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT LOVE?
FOR THE REASONS STATED ABOVE — SO I CAN CONTROL IT, RATHER THAN LETTING IT CONTROL ME. As he typed his answer, he realized he was using HARLIE’s phrasing of the idea rather than his own.
THAT’S ONLY PART OF IT, noted HARLIE. THE REAL REASON IS MISS STIMSON, ISN’T IT?
Pause. YES. I WANT TO KNOW IF I LOVE HER.
ISN’T IT A LITTLE STRANGE TO BE ASKING ME THAT — SHOULDN’T YOU BE ASKING IT OF YOURSELF INSTEAD?
I SHOULD, SHOULDN’T I.
BUT YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO ASK, DO YOU? YOU WANT ME TO DO IT, RIGHT?
I DON’T KNOW. IF YOU’LL TELL ME WHAT LOVE IS — OBJECTIVELY — THEN I’LL KNOW.
HARLIE ignored that. AUBERSON, he typed. WHY DO YOU ASK ME?
BECAUSE — He stopped, then started again. BECAUSE I HAVE NO ONE ELSE TO ASK.
I AM THE ONLY PERSON YOU HAVE TO CONFIDE IN?
Again, a pause. Then, YES, HARLIE. I’M AFRAID SO.
WHY?
Honesty, Auberson reminded himself. Honesty. You can’t lie in this game, and even if you could, you’d only be cheating yourself. And why would you want to? Why? Why is HARLIE the only one you can confide in, David Auberson? I DON’T KNOW, he typed, I DON’T KNOW.