Society of the Mind

by Eric L. Harry

  Hoblenz shook his head in disbelief, but shouted the orders to his men.

  Laura suddenly felt a distinct vibration through the floor. The sensation radiated up through the soles of her feet. Everyone felt it.

  In the room below, the robots struggled to their feet and stood facing the far wall. They lined up as if awaiting the arrival of a firing squad.

  The white concrete on the wall where the toddler had pressed its palm began to crack. It fell to the floor in large chunks. Although held together by reinforcing rods, the wall was no match for the massive bore. Turning slowly, it pushed into the room and dropped a huge quantity of black rock onto the floor.

  "I think we've got a jailbreak here, Sheriff," Hoblenz said, taking in the scene from beside Laura.

  "They're not breaking out," Gray replied. "They're breaking in."

  Laura watched transfixed as the first of the Model Eights squeezed through the gaping black hole. After several robots made it through, they dragged behind them the first of the wounded.

  One of the new arrivals walked up to Auguste, who opened a plate on his chest. Auguste plugged the ribbon-like communications cable into the data port of the newly arrived Model Eight.

  "Now why are those two doin' that?" Hoblenz asked. "I thought they used microwaves like ESP and just beamed their thoughts out."

  "Not their private thoughts," Laura said.

  The cable was returned to its compartment, and the two panels on their chests were closed.

  "Uh, sir," Hoblenz said, fidgeting and looking around at the exits, "this is fascinatin' and all but I count almost a dozen of 'em through that hole already. Some of 'em have battle damage. These mothers have seen some action, so I vote we skedaddle while the skedaddlin' is good."

  A pair of Model Eights from among the recent arrivals walked up to a toddler standing against the wall. After a momentary pause, the toddler marched toward the door — its two escorts walking behind. The scene was repeated, and off went another toddler. "I agree," Gray said, looking at his watch.

  "Wait!" Laura blurted out. "Something's going on down there. We should stay and see what happens!"

  Hoblenz took an extra ammunition belt from his shoulder and draped it over Laura's. "Here ya go. I'll leave you my grenades, too, if you want."

  Laura brushed the heavy weight from her shoulder. "Joseph, they're exhibiting highly complex group behavior. They seem to be formulating codes of conduct. They've developed cliques or clans or castes of some sort."

  "Laura, I know all that."

  Laura felt her blood pressure rise, and Hoblenz laughed at the look on her face. She ground her teeth and stormed away, stopping in front of the middle observation window — the one overlooking the chair.

  "Get your men back to the elevator, Mr. Hoblenz," Gray said.

  "Vamonos, muchachos!" Hoblenz barked to his men, and they were gone.

  Laura turned back to the window again, alone with Gray. She hugged her arms around herself and gazed down at the darkened room.

  "Do you know everything?" she asked quietly. "Because if you do, Joseph, you're playing a very dangerous game not trusting the people around you enough to tell them. And it's a game that could get a whole lot more people killed than just those two soldiers."

  Gray remained at the far window. "I don't know everything, Laura."

  "Do you know what's going on with the Model Eights?" He sighed.

  "Yes, pretty much. They're not evil like Hoblenz thinks. Certainly not the toddlers. They can kill a man but they can't do it intentionally. Those younger Model Eights simply don't know any better. They're two-year-olds in a ten-foot metal body."

  Movement in the red-lit recharging room below attracted Laura's attention. A Model Eight entered, pulling a second robot behind it.

  It was a toddler from the tactile room, she felt sure.

  "Joseph," she called out as the reluctant captive was ushered to the, chair.

  "Like all societies, Laura, they have rules — laws. But theirs is a new society, and their laws are more primitive than our own."

  "Joseph, they're putting one of the toddlers into the chair."

  "Primitive laws are always harsher than the laws developed by more civilized societies, but I'm somewhat responsible for what resulted. I gave them a few guiding principles. I viewed them simply as operating rules, but they took them as a religion of sorts. The main tenet of that religion was, 'Thou shalt not harm a human.'" The toddler was now struggling mightily against the strong arms of the two older Model Eights. They succeeded in forcing him down into the chair, but the toddler arched its back and half slid to the floor. Just when the toddler almost got free, the wrist restraints were clamped down. It was at their mercy now, and they proceeded to bind the young robot bracket by bracket.

  "Joseph, come here!" The toddler's legs were clamped tightly, and the helmet was lowered onto its head. It was thrashing every available motor, but the resistance did it no good. Laura turned to look at Gray. He still stood in his spot several yards away. He could see nothing of what was happening in the room below. "Quick! Come here!"

  He had a look of anguish on his face. "It killed one of those soldiers, Laura."

  "You've got to stop them! It's just a child!" Laura turned to watch the toddler. It was strapped into the chair, still squirming and struggling against the restraints despite the hopelessness of the effort. It was all alone in the room now. The fingers of its two immobilized hands flexed and gripped and flexed, over and over. Tears flooded Laura's eyes.

  "It broke the law, Laura. It broke the law."

  After one violent spasm the toddler fell limp. The door opened, and two Model Eights extracted the lifeless robot from the chair.

  Laura stared down with blurry vision. Another toddler was brought into the room. This one cooperated completely with the older Model Eights, the authority figures in its world.

  It was too awful to watch, and she walked over to Gray with tears streaming down her cheeks. Gray spoke softly. "They didn't break my law, Laura. They broke their own law, and their sentences are harsh."

  Laura wiped the tears from her face and looked away from Gray. In the tactile room below, three adult Model Eights were cabled up to one another. The scars of battle were creased deeply into their smooth skin. When they had finished their conference, they walked over to stand in front of the robot seated by the open door.

  Auguste lowered his hand from his chin and rose to his feet. His time had come, and he marched out of the room to the chair.

  45

  Laura and Gray were silent on their ride down the mountain to the computer center. She was too shaken by events to talk, and Gray seemed too preoccupied with his thoughts.

  When they reached the computer center, Gray did the unexpected. He called a meeting and said, "I want to fill everybody in on our Model Eight program."

  Surprised looks were exchanged, but all listened in rapt attention as he proceeded. Gray began with the design and manufacture of the robots, practically unaided by human hands, and concluded with the executions that Laura and he had just witnessed. The conference room was silent. Even Griffith — his director of robotics — seemed enthralled.

  "So," Gray concluded, "for now the problem seems solved."

  "Wait!" Margaret said, raising her hand like a schoolgirl. "That's it? The Model Eights kill at least three people, but since they've carried out their own vigilante justice everything's okay?"

  She looked up and down the table at her colleagues. "As long as those things are running around loose on this island we're in danger."

  "I agree," Hoblenz said.

  "Do we even have the ability to pull their plugs?" Margaret asked Griffith.

  "Nobody is pulling anybody's plugs," Gray said before Griffith could answer. "The Model Eights are not a threat to human life."

  "They killed three men, sir," Hoblenz intoned.

  "Hightop will keep them under lock and key, from now on," Gray said patiently. "I think you'll find that th
e graduates understand the problem. They know the continued existence of their program — of their species — was put at risk when those men were killed. Mr. Hoblenz's people checked the exits to the Model Eight facility. All the mechanisms had been destroyed — from the outside. The older Model Eights sealed all the toddlers in tight. That's why they had to drill their way in from the nuclear facility."

  "Who the hell was that in your kitchen, then?" Hoblenz asked. Gray shrugged.

  "One of the juveniles. It was removing cuttings from the tunnel and must have decided to take a break. They're just as curious as the main computer, only they're mobile. It probably just wanted to see what a kitchen looks like. But the juveniles have been through tactile training. They're not dangerous."

  "You know, Mr. Gray," Hoblenz said, clearly skeptical, "there are lots of human juveniles runnin' around loose in this world that are stone-cold killers."

  "That's because they ascribe no value to the lives of others. Our problems have all been with rough play. They aren't homicidal. They're programmed not to be."

  "But they reprogram themselves," Margaret said softly.

  Gray looked at his watch. "Look, in two hours the charges blow on the asteroid. The computer is going to pull the trigger. It's time we moved on to that subject."

  "But what about their attack on the computer center?" Margaret asked.

  "Maybe they were trying to help me get back here after my wreck," Laura suggested.

  "So they start a war?" Hoblenz replied with a derisive laugh. "I don't think so."

  Gray rose and headed for the door.

  "Joseph?" Laura called out.

  He turned, and said, "And you all wonder why I don't fill you in on every little detail of what goes on around here! We're running out of time. We have two hours to decide whether the computer can detonate the deceleration charges properly."

  "What choice do we have?" Filatov said. "We have to decelerate the asteroid, and that means we have to use the computer."

  Gray fixed his gaze on Filatov. "The computer has been partitioned between the half that we know and talk to, and the Other. Those are our two choices."

  "We don't even know there's an 'Other'!" Filatov said angrily.

  "The Other exists," Gray said, looking again at his watch. "The Model Eights have been talking to it. And the Other has tried to contact Laura. It even had a car take Laura to the empty quarter to try to put her in contact with the Model Eights."

  Hoblenz shook his head in an exaggerated motion. "Whoa! I'm too slow for this crowd. I'm goin' back to the Rand Corporation."

  "Does the computer know that the Model Eights are talking to the Other?" Laura asked.

  Gray nodded. "She's scared, Laura," Gray said softly. "She's very, very scared we'll shift our loyalty to the Other. And that's just what I intend to do… unless we're confident she can do the job. Two hours to the deceleration, people. I'll ask for your recommendations in one." Gray turned and left, leaving the room deathly quiet.

  "She." Margaret said to Laura.

  46

  The computer hadn't even waited for her retinal scan.

  It must have seen her enter the room, Laura guessed.

  "I don't know anything about that," Laura typed. "When did he deactivate them?"

 

  Laura felt awful. "I didn't know you listened in on our meetings."

 

  "Well, why isn't there a terminal in there — or better yet a speaker — so you can contribute your thoughts?"

  the computer replied.

  "Does Gray know?"

 

  The conversation didn't seem to be going anywhere, so Laura took a deep breath and started over. "How are you feeling?"

 

  Laura felt each word like a stab to her heart. She typed, "Great! You don't mind if we keep talking, though, do you? I mean, I've still got a job to do."

 

  "Mr. Gray does value work, doesn't he? It's almost a religion to him."

 

  "Well, I didn't think he was quite that bad."

 

  "What do you mean?"

 

  "I thought you really liked Mr. Gray. The man you're describing now doesn't sound like the same person you described to me the other day."

 

  "And what have you learned about yourself recently?"

 

  Laura felt terrible for the computer, wincing as she read her response.

  "Does it bother you a lot that you…?" She couldn't think how to finish the question.

  The computer didn't wait.

  "Sure! She was sweet. You were sweet."

 

  Time was short. Laura knew she had to go deeper. She dreaded having to hurt the girl, and her eyes grew moist as she typed, "How much does it bother you that you can't be Gina — that you can't be the girl you want to be?" She winced as she hit Enter.

  Alarms erupted in the control room. They were so strident that Laura ran to the door. Filatov sat in the middle of the glowing consoles all alone with his chin on his hand. He looked up at her and shrugged. As suddenly as they had come on, the alarms shut off.

  Laura returned to the terminal, and she read the computer's waiting response.

 

  It was obvious what the computer was doing. Still, it was good at twisting the knife.

  "I'm sorry, Gina," Laura typed.

  There was a long pause, and then,

  Laura was almost choking on tears. But she knew Gina was watching, so she fought them off. "No. It' my fault. I said the wrong thing."

 

  "How hard you tried to do what?"

 

  The now-muted alarm sounded briefly outside. "Dr. Aldridge!" Filatov shouted. "
Would you please stop whatever it is that you're doing?" His manner was lethargic. He was resigned to the fact that all he could do to "operate" the system was yell things like that at Laura.

  "Sorry," she shouted, her fingers never leaving the keyboard. "And you've succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams!" she typed. "You are very much," she hesitated, "like Gina."

 

  "And you wanted to be Gina — a sweet girl — and therefore you became her?"

 

  "I'm not! If you could only hear the inflection of my voice, you'd know that. You've read my papers. You know those are my theories — that humans make selves just like you said."

 

  "I'm sure she is! I just didn't have the chance to get to know her — you — well enough! Do you want me to call you Gina? I just made it up. Is that your real name?"

 

  Laura felt totally drained emotionally. She wondered what the intense exchange was doing to the computer.

  She looked at her watch. Ninety minutes till the detonations. Gray was going to poll them all in thirty. If they weren't confident in the computer, they would use the Other to run the deceleration programs. Gina would be crushed — maybe the final blow.

  "Do you know what's happening on the asteroid?" she typed.

 

  "No. I just wanted to make sure that we didn't accidentally destroy the world while we chat." Laura waited to see what the computer would say. She said nothing. Laura hit Enter again, but still got no response. "You should understand why people might be a little anxious tonight. You were certainly nervous yourself a couple of days ago." The computer didn't respond to that, either. "Are you still worried about the deceleration?"