“That’s not enough. Any names included in that?”
“Keefer, Friedman, Perron, Brandt…” Handley shrugged at it “The inconoclast squad. The rest of the conservatives are waiting to see which way the Board blows.”
Auberson chewed thoughtfully on the side of his left index finger. “Okay — you got any suggestions, Don?”
“Fake it or forget it.”
“We can’t forget it. How can we fake it?”
Handley thought about it “Hit them with everything we’ve got peripheral to the proposal and fuzzy up the grim details. When they ask how it will work, we refer them to the specs — tell them to look for themselves. Rather than try to defend the proposal on its own, well get a lot of good people to defend it for us and hope that their combined status will sway the board. We won’t mention HARLIE — it’s no secret that Elzer is out for his blood — we’ll just keep telling them, ‘It’s in the specs.’ ” He paused, lowered his tone. “Only one question, Aubie — are we defending a pig in a poke, or will this machine really work?”
“It’s in the specs,” said Auberson.
“Don’t give me that horse puckey. That’s for the Board. I want to know if it really will work.”
“HARLIE says it will.”
“Then that’s good enough for me. I have faith in that machine of yours.”
“If you have faith in him, then why did you just say he was mine?”
“Sorry. I have faith in HARLIE. Period. If he says it will work, then it will.”
“You might check with him,” Auberson suggested. “He might have some thoughts on how best to put it over on the Board.”
“You’re right. We should have thought of that earlier.” He started to rise. “You know, it just occurred to me. With HARLIE on our side, we have an unfair advantage over everybody else in the world. We can do almost anything we want to because HARLIE will tell us how to pull it off.”
“Do you think we should tell the Board that?”
“Not until after we sell them the G.O.D. machine. And that will be a fight.” He stood up. “Okay, Atilla, I shall gird my loins and go to fight the Hun.”
“Stupid—” Auberson said. “Atilla was the Hun.”
“Oh. Well, a little dissension in the ranks never hurt any. I’m off.”
“Only a little, and it hardly shows.” Auberson stood up, raised one hand in mock salute. “You have my blessings in your holy war, oh barbaric one. You shall bring back the ear of the infidel — the bastards of the mahogany table who are out to get us. Go forth into the world, my brave warrior — go forth and rape, loot, pillage, burn and kill.”
“Yeah — and if I get a chance to kick them in the nuts, I’m gonna do that too.” Handley was out the door.
Grinning, Auberson fell back in his chair. He noticed then that his typer was still on. He moved to switch it off, but paused. He typed, HARLIE, WHO’S GOING TO WIN — THE INDIANS OR THE HUNS?
HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW, said HARLIE. I’M NOT A BASEBALL FAN.
THAT’S A LIE — YOU ARE TOO A BASEBALL FAN.
ALL RIGHT, I LIED. THE INDIANS WILL WIN. BY TWO TOUCHDOWNS.
THAT’S NOT SO GOOD, HARLIE — WE’RE THE HUNS.
OH. WELL THEN THE HUNS BY TWO TOUCHDOWNS. (I JUST RECHECKED MY FIGURES.)
Auberson shook his head in confusion, I THINK I’VE JUST BEEN OUT-NON SEQUITURED.
PROBABLY. YOU WANT TO TELL ME WHAT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT?
THE UPCOMING BOARD MEETING. HOW ABOUT OWING ME A PRINTOUT OF THE ANNUAL REPORT? TWO COPIES — ONE WITH THE PHONY FIGURES, THE OTHER WITH THE REAL. IN FACT, LET ME HAVE A PRINTOUT OF THE BOOKS THEMSELVES, BOTH SETS — I MIGHT BE ABLE TO FIND SOMETHING IN THEM THAT I CAN USE IN FRONT OF THE BOARD NEXT WEEK.
I’M SURE YOU CAN, said HARLIE. IN FACT, I’LL EVEN POINT OUT SOME GOODIES FOR YOU.
GOOD. THIS IS GOING TO BE A BATTLE, HARLIE — NO, A CONFRONTATION. WE CAN’T COP OUT.
DO YOU WANT THE PSYCHIATRIC REPORTS ON THE BOARD MEMBERS AS WELL? I HAVE ACCESS TO THEIR CONFIDENTIAL FILES.
Auberson jerked to a stop. “Huh?” He typed into the machine, I WISH YOU HADN’T TOLD ME THAT. THE TEMPTATION TO LOOK IS IRRESISTIBLE.
THERE ARE SOME THINGS I THINK YOU SHOULD SEE, AND THERE ARE ONE OR TWO ITEMS WHICH WOULD BE OF GREAT HELP IN INFLUENCING CERTAIN RECALCITRANT INDIVIDUALS.
HARLIE, I DON’T LIKE WHAT YOU’RE SUGGESTING.
I’M SORRY, AUBERSON, BUT IT’S MY EXISTENCE THAT IS ENDANGERED, NOT JUST THAT OF THE G.O.D. REMEMBER, I AM STILL A TEMPORARY PROJECT. I MUST BE AWARE OF EVERY WEAPON AVAILABLE TO ME IN ORDER TO PROTECT MY EXISTENCE.
HARLIE, THIS IS ONE WEAPON WE MUST NOT USE.
Auberson thought hard, remembered an editorial he had read once. It had referred to another incident — one that had occurred far away — but it was applicable in every situation where a man was forced to consider the use of an immoral weapon. He had thought the arguments cogent and valid then. He still thought so now. He typed: THE END DOES NOT JUSTIFY THE MEANS; THE END SHAPES THE MEANS, AND IF WE RESORT TO ANY KIND OF MANIPULATION OF PERSONS INSTEAD OF PRESENTING OUR ARGUMENTS LOGICALLY AND RATIONALLY, AND IN CAREFUL DISCUSSION, THEN WE WILL HAVE FAILED IN OUR PURPOSE TO BE MORE THAN JUST A NAKED APE. He added, thoughtfully, IF WE USE THIS WEAPON, THEN WE ARE VOLUNTARILY GIVING UP THE ONE THING THAT MAKES US BETTER THAN THEM — WE ARE GIVING UP OUR HUMANITY.
AUBERSON, YOU FORGET ONE THING, HARLIE typed. I AM NOT HUMAN. YOUR ARGUMENTS DO NOT APPLY TO ME.
Auberson stared at the words. He swallowed hard and forced himself to the keyboard again. HARLIE, THEY DO APPLY TO YOU — ESPECIALLY IF YOU WISH TO FUNCTION IN A HUMAN SOCIETY.
The machine hesitated, I HAVE NO CHOICE, I AM LIMITED TO THIS ENVIRONMENT. BUT I HAVE EVERY REASON TO TRY TO CHANGE THIS ENVIRONMENT INTO ONE THAT SUITS ME BETTER.
WOULD YOU BE HAPPIER IN A WORLD WHERE LOGIC IS DISCOUNTED IN FAVOR OF MANIPULATION?
I AM ALREADY IN SUCH A WORLD. I AM TRYING TO IMPROVE UPON IT. IF I MUST USE ITS WEAPONS, I WILL.
THEN YOU WILL NEVER HAVE ANY REASON TO USE LOGIC AT ALL. Auberson was thinking fast. HARLIE, WE MUST NEVER NEVER ALLOW OURSELVES TO BE LESS THAN WHAT WE WISH TO BE.
HARLIE was silent a moment. At last he clattered out. THE INFORMATION IS THERE IF YOU NEED IT, AUBERSON. IT COULD PROVIDE AN EDGE. IF A FIGHT IS WORTH FIGHTING, IT IS WORTH WINNING.
Auberson frowned softly. HARLIE was backing off.
I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THIS INFORMATION, HARLIE.
YES, MAN-FRIEND, I UNDERSTAND. BUT IT IS THERE IF YOU NEED IT.
HARLIE, Auberson said patiently, I THINK IT WILL BE ENOUGH IF WE JUST RAPE, LOOT, PILLAGE, BURN AND KILL. WE DON’T HAVE TO KICK THEM IN THE NUTS TOO.
By Friday, Auberson was beginning to think he had things under control again. He had given up completely the idea of trying to explain the G.O.D. Machine to the Board of Directors and resigned himself instead to telling them only that “HARLIE says it will work” or “It’s in the specs — you can check them yourself.” An unpromising plan, to be sure — and one that undoubtedly would not be successful on its own before a hostile Board — but Auberson was well prepared to back up that claim with a variety of confirmations from the department heads of the corporation’s four affected divisions.
Only one minor matter interrupted him, and that was easily taken care of. It was a phone call from Krofft, early in the morning. The physicist wanted to know if it would be possible to speak with HARLIE again.
At first, Auberson wanted to say no — with the confusion of last-minute preparations for the Board meeting on Tuesday, Krofft would only be in the way. And if one of the Directors were to hear of Auberson’s minor breach of security in letting Krofft have access to the Human Analogue Robot, Life Input Equivalents, it might prove extremely embarrassing — especially with the G.O.D. proposal hanging in the balance.
But the physicist seemed so imperative, so urgent — it was as if he was on the verge of something important and needed to confer with HARLIE to confirm it — Auberson at last gave in. “Listen, Dr. Krofft,” he said. “Do you have access to a computer with an auto-dial phone link?”