Colossus (22 page)

“Sure, Chief.”

Forbin held out his hand to Grauber. “Good luck.”

They shook hands all round, and Forbin turned to go. Then he paused. “You know, there are moments when I think this is all a nightmare, and that I’ll wake …” His voice failed him. He stopped to regain control. “Night is upon us, gentlemen. Maybe it’s another Dark Age, but sooner or later we’ll come out of it.”

Watching him go, Grauber noticed that indeed the sun was going down, throwing a long shadow before Forbin as he walked …

TI-4’s experts were grouped round a clinically clean metal table. On it lay a missile safety lock, with its cover removed. Not much larger than a pack of cigarettes, it was the last safety measure in a missile firing system. Until it was actuated, no missile could fly, and no warhead could be armed until the missile was flying …

“The first thing is to stop the goddam contacts meeting, then work back and find some way of fixing the test circuit.” The chief of TI-4 referred to a drawing, then back to the lock. “Those two points just don’t have to meet.” He pointed carefully with a bronze, nonmagnetic probe. “There …”

Chapter 17

It was 1540, local time. Already the reduction in solar light had automatically triggered the luminescent ceiling switches throughout the Secure Zone. Rooms that in daylight looked outwards to lawns and paths, turned inwards upon themselves. Forbin, sitting quietly in the CPO, noticed the change, but to him it was sinister; night was not locked out, but locked in with him, and the presence of other people in the room did nothing to alleviate his sense of loneliness.

The camera and microphone installation was nearing completion, and the men had moved on to his private quarters. The CPO itself was back to normal, except for the two cameras and two microphones. Behind each camera a still wet patch of vivid red paint—Forbin’s idea— gleamed in the light. A visual warning, red—the universal danger signal…

Forbin gazed thoughtfully at the microphone on his desk, then at the silent group standing almost formally before the desk. He noted the time; fifteen minutes to go, just fifteen minutes. He summoned a smile from somewhere.

“Sure that nothing is switched on yet, Joe?”

Joe, a man of very few words, nodded, and his nod was good enough for the Professor.

“OK, here is the final pep-talk—don’t leave, Joe, this can touch you too—all you need to qualify for this school is to be a human being.” Forbin gave each one of them an intense stare, wanting to see, and be seen, perhaps for the last time, free of the tireless gaze of Colossus.

“Make no mistake,” he continued in a calm, level voice, “homo sapiens has got his back well and truly jammed against the wall. If Colossus and Guardian choose, they can wipe out well over half the population of the world right now, this minute. Not only would half the world die in a flash, but the residual disease, never mind the radioactivity, would put an end to the other half in a year or two at the most, and the world would be left to these machines, impervious to disease and radiation. Like the fools we are, we have created the bacteria, the bombs, the rockets, and all the rest of the paraphernalia, and surrendered the lot to these machines. We committed this incredible folly out of fear of each other—but the irony is that now we’ll probably sink all our trivial differences in this fight for human survival. Once Colossus and Guardian have established control of the production lines, humans will be redundant—unless we are ignored, as we ignore insect life, or unless we are kept like animals in a zoo for scientific study, just to see what makes us tick. Remember, the only essential difference between us and what we call the lower orders of life is our brainpower. And now that superiority too has gone—except in the one vital sector, emotion. If that does not see us through—we’re finished.”

Forbin leaned back, and closed his eyes. There was silence for a while, then Blake cleared his throat and spoke.

“OK, Chief, we get the message, and if things go wrong for you, we’ll see it is passed on.” He smiled grimly at Forbin. “But don’t give up the ship; it’s not time yet to ask the dinosaurs to move over.”

“Anyway,” replied Forbin as lightly as he could, “it’s time for me to step into the cage. Good luck to you all. Joe, switch on as soon as you like. The rest of you had better hightail it out of here, except Angela.” He avoided Cleo’s eyes. “I’ll want you to take notes. Blake, you can listen to what goes on in the watch room.”

The group dissolved and went its various ways. Cleo, who had no orders, or any particular place to go, hovered uncertainly.

“Get a good night’s rest, Cleo.” Forbin’s answer to her unspoken question brought a flush to her face. He went on, “It’s for sure I’m going to sleep tonight, whether Colossus blows up, packs up, or goes fishing.”

Cleo looked at Angela, bitterly resenting her presence at this moment. She hesitated, then reached over and squeezed Forbin’s hand, and left without speaking. Hardly had the door shut than it opened again: Joe stared at Forbin, and nodded his head slightly, and left …

As simple as that, thought Forbin. Everything looks the same, yet the bars are up, I’m in the cage … For a moment, a fraction of a second, a wave of panic swept over him—he gripped the desk edge and sat, motionless, waiting for the fear to ebb away. Gradually he relaxed, reassembled his disordered mind. Then he sighed, took out his pipe, glanced at the clock; he had made it with seven minutes to spare. He looked at Angela, stiff and wooden, prey to God knows what feelings, and gave her an encouraging smile … He leaned slightly forward to the microphone, and looked steadily up at the camera. He spoke, and to him it sounded like a stranger a million miles away. His other detached and inviolable self watched as if from the other side of the room.

“This is Forbin. Do you see and hear me?” His answer came clattering back instantly,

YES

“Good,” said Forbin. “I have carried out the orders, and both visual and aural cover is provided so that you can see me and hear me at all times. This is what you want?”

YES

“Very well. You will see that when I get up and walk to the door,” he suited the action to the words, “another camera has me in view, and you still hear me speak.” He returned to his desk, and sat down. “This is the way it is arranged throughout the control block, my office and my private quarters and all the routes in between.” Forbin found himself imagining that he was talking to a human being—cold and unresponsive, but human. In some way this image made him feel more at ease. The machine clattered into action.

IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO STAY IN AUDIO AND VISUAL CONTACT AT ALL TIMES

Forbin read the message and tried to look unconcerned, although he knew that there was no possibility of the machine being able to evaluate the finer shades of facial expression—or could it? He swallowed nervously. Now for it …

“Colossus,” his tone was conversational, “do you understand the meaning of the word `privacy’?”

Again the monosyllabic

YES

“Do you understand that humans create words to convey to each other their thoughts, needs or actions?”

YES

“And that there cannot be a meaningless word?”

YES

“Then you. will agree that `privacy’ has been created by humans to express a human need of requirement?”

YES

Stay with me, Socrates, Forbin thought fervently. I know this isn’t very good stuff, but it’s the best I can do…

“And you know that I am human, and in most respects like any other human?”

YES

“Therefore my need is no more—and no less—than any other human?”

The microsecond wait was all eternity.

YES

Forbin tried to hide his elation by blowing his nose vigorously.

“Will you, therefore, with suitable safeguards, allow me some measure of this human need, privacy—without which I may lose my reason, and thus cease to be of value?”

WHAT SAFEGUARDS

“I will come to that point in a moment. You will know that humans by nature, sleep at night?”

YES

“Also that in most of the inhabited globe of the earth, the sun does not shine at night?”

YES

“It is natural, therefore, to sleep in darkness. If my bedroom has only one entrance, and I demonstrate to your satisfaction that I cannot leave it or communicate from it without your knowledge, may I have darkness and privacy in that room at night?” Forbin was warming to his work. He was struck by the slightly bizarre thought that he found Colossus more reasonable than many humans. “There will be no telephone or other communication device in the room, and it may be inspected and kept under surveillance at all other times; you may examine all articles before they are allowed—”

NO

That was a setback. Forbin was silent for a moment.

“If you so order, I cannot argue, but you have agreed that I need privacy as much as the next man. Under what conditions would you permit—”

Colossus was also warming up. Without waiting for Forbin to finish, the teletype started once more.

PRIVACY CONDITIONS

1—CAMERAS TO BE FITTED IN DUPLICATE TO COVER ALL POSSIBLE EXITS

2—WIRE SCREEN/WARNING MESH TO BE FITTED TO ALL CEILING FLOOR AND WALL SURFACES

3—MICROPHONES TO BE FITTED EXTERNALLY TO ALL WALLS OF ROOM

4—YOU UNDERTAKE FULL COOPERATION WITH US

5—ATTEMPTED EVASION OF SURVEILLANCE WILL BE PUNISHED WITHOUT FURTHER NOTICE BY DESTRUCTION OF A CLASS II CITY

QUESTION HOW MANY TIMES A WEEK DO YOU REQUIRE A WOMAN

Forbin, reading the conditions as they were typed, nearly had a coronary when he got to the question. Item 5—such is the power of the human mind to adapt to any condition—was accepted with no more than an involuntary tightening of the jaw muscles, but the question … Forbin mentally cursed the blameless Angela for being present, but then the cool clear side of his mind saw that this might be turned to advantage: it would ease his embarrassment, and demonstrate the urge for privacy …

“Angela, be so good as to wait outside until I call you back.”

Intentionally, the phraseology was practically archaic; he hoped she would have the sense to play up. She did.

“Yes, sir,” she replied meekly, and, avoiding his gaze, literally trotted from the room.

Forbin acted it out for all it was worth. He mopped his brow, shook his head.

“Colossus, I accept your conditions, but that question, really … it was most embarrassing.”

WHY

Again Forbin shook his head. “It would take far too long to explain, but you must know that this sort of thing we do not discuss openly. In fact we do not discuss it at all, it is a private matter.” Cunningly, he thought, he worked in the key word. “Even talking to you, I find it difficult … It’s true I have a mistress, and I would—er—like her company in my room,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “four times a week.”

REPEAT

“Four nights a week!” Forbin almost shouted. He was not acting now. The risk of the destruction of cities he could accept, but to reply to a question like that, painfully aware that Blake and God knows who else, would be listening to every word—Cleo! He clutched despairingly at his head. He was so covered with genuine confusion, it was some little time before he realized that Colossus had answered.

AGREED-FOUR TIMES A WEEK

“Thank you,” said Forbin hoarsely. He could think of nothing else to say, but a further inspiration made him lean over with a pen and scribble furiously on Colossus’ last answer until it was completely obliterated.

WHY DID YOU DO THAT

For good measure, Forbin mopped his brow once more. “I do not want my secretary to know, it is a private matter. Can we regard that subject as settled?”

YES

“Thank God for that,” replied Forbin with genuine relief. He called out, “Angela! You may come back now!”

Angela returned, impassive, and resumed her seat. Forbin knocked his pipe out on the edge of the desk, and proceeded to fill it. Well, that was one big hurdle behind him, and it certainly showed a realistic approach on Colossus’ part to bring that subject up. His confidence began to blossom out.

“I will see that the conditions are obeyed tomorrow,” he said. The warning mesh to which Colossus referred was obviously the same stuff that had been built into the cement shell of Colossus himself. With that fixed, physical escape would certainly be impossible, and the screening effect of the low-voltage energization in the mesh would effectively stop transmission or reception. “As for tonight, I am so tired I am sure the lights in my room will not affect me unduly.” That was nothing less than truth. “Is there anything more you want of me tonight?”

YES

“What?”

A VOICE SIMULATOR TO MY SPECIFICATION IS TO BE BUILT

So now he wanted to talk … Many talking machines had been made in the past hundred years, and lately some of them had been very good. But a voice designed by Colossus … He decided to try a little passive resistance.

“It is getting a little late in the day to start now-“

NIGHT AND DAY ARE ONE TO US YOUR MEN MUST WORK SHIFTS

There was something almost poetic in that “Night and day are one to us.” But it was that “us” that was daunting … “Very well,” said Forbin, “send your specification, and I will have a design team working here within the hour.”

Without further preamble the machine began to hammer out the specification. Watching the details, Forbin almost forgot the appalling problem facing him. They were very exact—the values of resistances, diodes, stators … It went on, and on…

Forbin watched, fascinated. It was not particularly difficult to appear to cooperate; he was genuinely interested to see what the result would be. True, there was nothing, so far as he could see, original in the specification, but it was clearly refined to a degree that human brains had not yet reached. He recalled it was necessary to show willingness as concretely as possible.

“Angela, take down this memo: addressed to Group A leader, copy to Admin from Controller. Split group into three watches for design team duties. Assignment: to design and supervise building of voice simulator to Colossus’ specification. First watch to start work in CPO at 2200 GMT this day.”