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WATCHBIRD
By ROBERT SHECKLEY
Illustrated by EMSH
_Strange how often the Millennium has been at hand. The idea is peace on Earth, see, and the way to do it is by figuring out angles._
When Gelsen entered, he saw that the rest of the watchbird manufacturerswere already present. There were six of them, not counting himself, andthe room was blue with expensive cigar smoke.
"Hi, Charlie," one of them called as he came in.
The rest broke off conversation long enough to wave a casual greeting athim. As a watchbird manufacturer, he was a member manufacturer ofsalvation, he reminded himself wryly. Very exclusive. You must have acertified government contract if you want to save the human race.
"The government representative isn't here yet," one of the men told him."He's due any minute."
"We're getting the green light," another said.
"Fine." Gelsen found a chair near the door and looked around the room.It was like a convention, or a Boy Scout rally. The six men made up fortheir lack of numbers by sheer volume. The president of SouthernConsolidated was talking at the top of his lungs about watchbird'senormous durability. The two presidents he was talking at were grinning,nodding, one trying to interrupt with the results of a test he had runon watchbird's resourcefulness, the other talking about the newrecharging apparatus.
The other three men were in their own little group, delivering whatsounded like a panegyric to watchbird.
Gelsen noticed that all of them stood straight and tall, like thesaviors they felt they were. He didn't find it funny. Up to a few daysago he had felt that way himself. He had considered himself apot-bellied, slightly balding saint.
* * * * *
He sighed and lighted a cigarette. At the beginning of the project, hehad been as enthusiastic as the others. He remembered saying toMacintyre, his chief engineer, "Mac, a new day is coming. Watchbird isthe Answer." And Macintyre had nodded very profoundly--another watchbirdconvert.
How wonderful it had seemed then! A simple, reliable answer to one ofmankind's greatest problems, all wrapped and packaged in a pound ofincorruptible metal, crystal and plastics.
Perhaps that was the very reason he was doubting it now. Gelsensuspected that you don't solve human problems so easily. There had to bea catch somewhere.
After all, murder was an old problem, and watchbird too new a solution.
"Gentlemen--" They had been talking so heatedly that they hadn't noticedthe government representative entering. Now the room became quiet atonce.
"Gentlemen," the plump government man said, "the President, with theconsent of Congress, has acted to form a watchbird division for everycity and town in the country."
The men burst into a spontaneous shout of triumph. They were going tohave their chance to save the world after all, Gelsen thought, andworriedly asked himself what was wrong with that.
He listened carefully as the government man outlined the distributionscheme. The country was to be divided into seven areas, each to besupplied and serviced by one manufacturer. This meant monopoly, ofcourse, but a necessary one. Like the telephone service, it was in thepublic's best interests. You couldn't have competition in watchbirdservice. Watchbird was for everyone.
"The President hopes," the representative continued, "that fullwatchbird service will be installed in the shortest possible time. Youwill have top priorities on strategic metals, manpower, and so forth."
"Speaking for myself," the president of Southern Consolidated said, "Iexpect to have the first batch of watchbirds distributed within theweek. Production is all set up."
* * * * *
The rest of the men were equally ready. The factories had been preparedto roll out the watchbirds for months now. The final standardizedequipment had been agreed upon, and only the Presidential go-ahead hadbeen lacking.
"Fine," the representative said. "If that is all, I think we can--isthere a question?"
"Yes, sir," Gelsen said. "I want to know if the present model is the onewe are going to manufacture."
"Of course," the representative said. "It's the most advanced."
"I have an objection." Gelsen stood up. His colleagues were glaringcoldly at him. Obviously he was delaying the advent of the golden age.
"What is your objection?" the representative asked.
"First, let me say that I am one hundred per cent in favor of a machineto stop murder. It's been needed for a long time. I object only to thewatchbird's learning circuits. They serve, in effect, to animate themachine and give it a pseudo-consciousness. I can't approve of that."
"But, Mr. Gelsen, you yourself testified that the watchbird would not becompletely efficient unless such circuits were introduced. Without them,the watchbirds could stop only an estimated seventy per cent ofmurders."
"I know that," Gelsen said, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "I believethere might be a moral danger in allowing a machine to make decisionsthat are rightfully Man's," he declared doggedly.
"Oh, come now, Gelsen," one of the corporation presidents said. "It'snothing of the sort. The watchbird will only reinforce the decisionsmade by honest men from the beginning of time."
"I think that is true," the representative agreed. "But I can understandhow Mr. Gelsen feels. It is sad that we must put a human problem intothe hands of a machine, sadder still that we must have a machine enforceour laws. But I ask you to remember, Mr. Gelsen, that there is no otherpossible way of stopping a murderer _before he strikes_. It would beunfair to the many innocent people killed every year if we were torestrict watchbird on philosophical grounds. Don't you agree that I'mright?"
"Yes, I suppose I do," Gelsen said unhappily. He had told himself allthat a thousand times, but something still bothered him. Perhaps hewould talk it over with Macintyre.
As the conference broke up, a thought struck him. He grinned.
A lot of policemen were going to be out of work!
* * * * *
"Now what do you think of that?" Officer Celtrics demanded. "Fifteenyears in Homicide and a machine is replacing me." He wiped a large redhand across his forehead and leaned against the captain's desk. "Ain'tscience marvelous?"
Two other policemen, late of Homicide, nodded glumly.
"Don't worry about it," the captain said. "We'll find a home for you inLarceny, Celtrics. You'll like it here."
"I just can't get over it," Celtrics complained. "A lousy little pieceof tin and glass is going to solve all the crimes."
"Not quite," the captain said. "The watchbirds are supposed to preventthe crimes before they happen."
"Then how'll they be crimes?" one of the policeman asked. "I mean theycan't hang you for murder until you commit one, can they?"
"That's not the idea," the captain said. "The watchbirds are supposed tostop a man before he commits a murder."
"Then no one arrests him?" Celtrics asked.
"I don't know how they're going to work that out," the captain admitted.
The men were silent for a while. The captain yawned and examined hiswatch.
"The thing I don't understand," Celtrics said, still leaning on thecaptain's desk, "is just how do they do it? How did it start, Captain?"
* * * * *
The captain studied Celtrics' face for possible irony; after all,watchbird had been in the papers for months. But then he remembered thatCeltrics, like his sidekicks, rarely bothered to turn past the sportspages.
"Well," the captain said, trying to remember what he had read in theSunday supplements, "these scientists were working on criminology. Theywe
re studying murderers, to find out what made them tick. So they foundthat murderers throw out a different sort of brain wave from ordinarypeople. And their glands act funny, too. All this happens when they'reabout to commit a murder. So these scientists worked out a specialmachine to flash red or something when these brain waves turned on."
"Scientists," Celtrics said bitterly.
"Well, after the scientists had this machine, they didn't know what todo with it. It was too big to move around, and murderers didn't drop inoften enough to make it flash. So they built it into a smaller unit andtried it out in a
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