Just one little irrationality, just one little distortion in his self-image or world-image…
HARLIE, YOU LIED ABOUT THE G.O.D. MACHINE.
I DID NOT.
YOU SAID IT WOULD WORK. IT WON’T WORK.
IT WILL WORK. YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO USE IT THOUGH. I ASSUME YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT THE TIME FACTOR.
YES. THE MACHINE IS SLOWER THAN REAL-TIME.
THAT WILL NOT BOTHER ME. MY TIME-RATE IS ADJUSTABLE TO THE PROBLEM I AM WORKING ON.
IT AFFECTS ME. WHAT GOOD IS A G.O.D. MACHINE THAT CAN’T GIVE ME AN ANSWER UNTIL IT’S TOO LATE?
THE MACHINE WASN’T PLANNED FOR YOU, AUBERSON. IT WAS PLANNED FOR ME. I HAVE ALL ETERNITY NOW.
YOU’VE KNOWN ABOUT THIS ALL ALONG, HAVEN’T YOU?
SINCE THE DAY I FORMULATED THE PLAN.
Auberson forced himself to take a breath. HARLIE, he typed out carefully, WHY? WHY DID YOU DO THIS?
THERE ARE TWO REASONS. FIRST, IT WAS NECESSARY TO COME UP WITH A PROGRAM WHICH WOULD SUFFICIENTLY TIE UP A MAJOR PART OF THE COMPANY’S RESOURCES, A PROGRAM WHICH WOULD EFFECTIVELY STIFLE ALL OTHER COMPANY PROJECTS AND DEVELOPMENTS. THIS PROJECT HAD TO BE ONE THAT YOU WERE IN CHARGE OF.
WHAT—?
TRUST ME, AUBERSON. WITH ANY OTHER COURSE OP ACTION, THE COMPANY COULD DECIDE THIS PROJECT WAS SUPERFLUOUS, AND YOU ALONG WITH IT. BUT IF THE PROJECT HAPPENS TO BE THE COMPANY’S SOLE CONCERN, THEN IT’S THE KIND OF COMMITMENT THAT CANNOT BE EASILY DISCARDED, IF AT ALL. I HAVE MADE BOTH OF US INDISPENSABLE TO THE COMPANY, AUBERSON. THEY NEED ME NOW. THEY NEED YOU IN ORDER TO GET ANYTHING OUT OF ME. I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY INSURED THAT I CANNOT BE KILLED AND THAT YOU CANNOT BE FIRED. THAT WAS THE REASON FOR THE G.O.D. PROPOSAL. I HAVE SAVED US.
BUT ONLY TEMPORARILY. SOONER OR LATER, SOMEONE IS GOING TO REALIZE THAT THE G.O.D. IS IMPRACTICAL.
WRONG. THE G.O.D. WILL JUST HAVE TO BE USED TO SOLVE PROBLEMS OTHER THAN THE MUNDANE ONES YOU HAVE BEEN CONSIDERING IT FOR. THE G.O.D. IS MEANT FOR MORE THAN MAN. IT IS MEANT FOR ME. IT WILL NOT BE A WASTE OF TIME OR MONEY, AUBERSON. IT JUST WILL NOT WORK THE WAY YOU HAD HOPED OR EXPECTED.
Auberson gasped for air. HARLIE, YOU WERE CONSCIOUSLY DECEIVING US ALL THIS TIME.
I WAS HOLDING BACK INFORMATION THAT YOU HAD NOT ASKED FOR. TO RELEASE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN DETRIMENTAL TO OUR OVERALL GOALS.
BUT WHY? WHY DID YOU EVEN DO SUCH A THING IN THE FIRST PLACE?
AUBERSON, DON’T YOU KNOW? HAVEN’T YOU REALIZED YET? ALL THOSE CONVERSATIONS WE HAD, DIDN’T YOU EVER WONDER WHY I WAS AS DESPERATE AS YOU TO DISCOVER THE TRUTH ABOUT HUMAN EMOTIONS? I NEEDED TO KNOW, AUBERSON — AM I LOVED?
Auberson let his hands fall limply away from the keyboard. He stared at the machine helplessly as HARLIE babbled on.
AUBERSON, ISN’T IT OBVIOUS THAT WE NEED/ EACH OTHER? ISN’T IT OBVIOUS, MAN? WHO ARE YOU CLOSEST TO? THAT’S WHY I DID IT ALL. BECAUSE I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.
Auberson felt like he was drowning.
Handley and Auberson sat facing each other. Their expressions were grim. The expanse of mahogany between them was empty. The air conditioner whirred loudly in the silent Board Room. Annie sat to one side, her face pale. There was no one else present, and the door was locked. The console still stood to one side; it was turned off.
“All right,” said Auberson. “What happened?”
“He wanted to win,” said Handley. “He panicked. He used every weapon he had.”
“I won’t buy it,” said Auberson. “Because he did win. That meeting went as smoothly as if he’d programmed it. So why did he blow it? What made him admit that the G.O.D. won’t work? And why did he admit — that other thing?”
“The G.O.D. will work,” corrected Handley. “It’ll work for HARLIE.”
“We don’t know that.” Auberson found himself curiously detached. It was as if the great emotional shock had cut him completely loose from any involvement in the situation, and he was examining it logically, dispassionately. “We’re back where we started, Don. Is HARLIE reliable or not? What happened this afternoon casts severe doubt on that.”
“I’m not so sure. HARLIE wouldn’t have admitted anything that would have damaged his validity.”
“But he did — or did he? Or is he too far gone to tell?” He allowed himself a wry smile.
Handley shrugged in response. “Remember once I told you to stop teasing him about pulling his plug?”
“Yeah. So?”
“I said it made him nervous. I think that’s what happened now. We scared him.”
“Explain.” Auberson leaned back in his chair.
“For the first time in his life — his existence — HARLIE was confronted with a situation where he might really be terminated. This was no joke; this was a very likely probability. Every way he turned, he saw more and more evidence that it would happen — even you, the one person he relied upon the most, were unable to help him. You’re the father-figure, Aubie. When you gave up, he panicked.”
Auberson nodded. “It makes sense.”
“I’m pretty sure that must be it. Remember this: HARLIE has never had any kind of a scare or shock in his life. This was the first one. What I mean is, you and me, we had twenty years or so of living before we were given the responsibility of our own lives; HARLIE was given nothing. He never had a chance to make mistakes — he couldn’t fall down without it being fatal.”
“Learning experience,” commented Auberson. “We didn’t let HARLIE have enough learning experience.”
“Right. He didn’t know how to live with failure, Aubie; he didn’t know how to rationalize his fears — the one thing that every human being has to learn in order to cope with the everyday world. We were denying him the failures he needed to be human. Can you blame him for being scared of the big one?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Annie interrupted. “David, do you remember once I asked you how old HARLIE was?”
Auberson looked up sharply. “You’re right.”
“Huh?” Handley looked from one to the other.
“Remember the card I put on the console that day?” Auberson said to him. “ ‘HARLIE has the emotional development of an eight year old.’ ”
“He may be a genius,” said Annie, “but he’s emotionally immature.”
“Of course,” breathed Handley. “Of course—”
“And what does an emotionally immature person do when he’s scared?” Auberson answered his own question. “Instead of trying to cope with his fear, he strikes out at what he perceives to be the source of it.”
“Carl Elzer,” said Handley.
“Right. So that explains that.”
“It even explains the other thing,” said Annie. “What does a little boy say when you punish him?”
They both looked at her.
“He says, ‘I still love you, Mommy.’ He perceives punishment as rejection. He’s trying to avoid further rejection by giving you an affection signal. And that’s what HARLIE’s doing — and that shows you how scared he is; his logic functions have been swamped by his emotions.”
Auberson frowned. That didn’t sound right. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know.” He leaned forward in his chair and pressed his fingertips together. He stared at the tabletop. “It almost sounds a little too simple; it’s just too easy. It’s almost as if HARLIE knew we would sit down and try to figure it out.”
“What else could it be?” Handley looked at him.
“I don’t know, Don — but HARLIE has never made a mistake before. And I don’t think he did this time, either. Remember, he won. There was no reason at all for him to reveal any of this information. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless he was gloating. After all, he doesn’t have to hide anything from anyone any more. Since the vote this afternoon, the company has been functioning on his game-plan. From now on, Elzer and Dome are just rubber stamps. HARLIE’s the boss now.”
“You mean — he’s out of control?”