The Machine That Saved The World
Page 9
described withshaky precision the exact constants of the wave to be generated--and thebroadcaster from nowhere must not be able to deduce those constants orthat wave-type from the diagram until he had built the transmitter andtried it.
"I know it can't be done!" said the sergeant desperately. "I know itcan't! But it's gotta be! Or they'll parachute a transmitter down on ussure."
Graves smiled a quick and nervous smile. He began to sketch a circuit.It was a wonderful thing. It was the product of much ingenuity andmeditation. It had been devised--by himself--as a brain-teaser for theamusement of other high-level scientific brains. Mathematicianszestfully contrive problems to stump each other. Specialists in thehigher branches of electronics sometimes present each other withdiagrammed circuits which pretend to achieve the impossible. The problemis to find the hidden flaw.
Graves deftly outlined his circuit and began to fill in the details.Ostensibly, it was a circuit which consumed energy and producednothing--not even heat. In a sense it was the exact opposite of aperpetual-motion scheme, which pretends to get energy from nowhere. Thiscircuit pretended to radiate energy to nowhere, and yet to get rid ofit.
* * * * *
Presently Lecky could be heard expostulating gently:
"But of course we are willing to give you the circuit by which wecommunicate with the year 3020! Naturally! But it seems strange that yoususpect us! After all, if you do not tell us how to meet the danger yourbroadcasts have told of, you will never be born!"
Sergeant Bellews mopped his face and moved into the screen's field ofvision.
"Doc," he said, laying a hand on Lecky's arm. "Doc Graves is sketchin'what they want right now. You want to come show it, Doc?"
Graves took Lecky's place. He spread out the diagram, finishing it as hetalked. His nervous, faint smile appeared as the mannerism ofembarrassment it was.
"There can be no radiation from a coil shaped like this," he saidembarrassedly, "because of the Werner Principle.... Yet on examination... input to the transistor series involves ... energy must flow ...and when this coil...."
His voice flowed on. He explained a puzzle, presenting it diffidently ashe had presented it to other men in his own field. Then he had beenplaying--for fun. Now he played for perhaps the highest stakes thatcould be imagined.
He completed his diagram and, smiling nervously, held it up to thecommunicator-screen. It was instantly transmitted, of course. Tonowhere. Which was most appropriate, because it pretended to be thediagram of a circuit sending radiation to the same place.
* * * * *
The face on the screen twitched, now. The hand with the tiny earphonewas always at the ear of the man on the screen, so that he plainly didnot speak one word without high authority.
"_We will--examine this_," he said. His voice was a full two toneshigher than it had been. "_If you have been--truthful we will give youthe information you wish_."
_Click!_ The screen went dark. Lecky let out his breath. SergeantBellews threw off the transmission switch. He began to shake. Howellsaid indignantly:
"When I make a mistake, I admit it! That broadcast isn't from thefuture! If it hadn't been a lie, he'd have known he had to tell us whatwe wanted to know! He couldn't hold us up for terms! If he let us die hewouldn't exist!"
"Y-yeah," said Sergeant Bellews. "What I'm wonderin' is, did we foolhim?"
"Oh, yes!" said Graves, with diffident confidence. "I don't know butthree men in the world who could find the flaw in that circuit." Hesmiled faintly. "But it radiates all the energy that's fed into it." Heturned to Sergeant Bellews. "You gave me the constants of a wave youwanted it to radiate. I fixed it. It will. But why that specialtype--that special wave?"
Sergeant Bellews pulled himself together.
"Because," he said grimly, "that was the wave they wanted us tobroadcast. What I'm hoping is that you gave 'em a transmitter to doexactly the same thing as the one they designed for us. If they'refooled, they'll broadcast the wave they told us to broadcast. If itbusts machines, it'll bust their machines. If it stops all dynamicsystems dead--includin' men--they'll be stopped dead, too." Then helooked from one to another of the three scientists, each one reacting inhis own special way. "Personally," said Sergeant Bellews doggedly, "I'mgoin' to have a can of beer. Who'll join me?"
* * * * *
The world wagged on. The automatic monitors in Communications Centerreported that another broadcast had been received by Betsy andundoubtedly unscrambled by Al and Gus, working as a team. The reportedbroadcast was, of course, an interception of the two-way talk from theRehab Shop.
The tall young lieutenant, working with his eyes kept conscientiouslyshut, extracted the tapes and loaded them in a top-security briefcase. Asecond courier took off for Washington with them. There a certified,properly cleared major-general had them run off, and saw and heard everyword of the conversation between the Rehab Shop and--nowhere. He howledwith wrath.
Sergeant Bellews went into the guardhouse while plane-loads ofinterrogating officers flew from Washington. Howell and Graves and Leckywent under strict guard until they could be asked some thousands ofvariations of the question, "Why did you do it?" The high brass quiveredwith fury. They did not accept decisions made at non-commissioned-officerlevel.
Communication with their great-great-great-grandchildren, theyconsidered, should have been begun with proper authority and underhigh-ranking auspices. They commanded that 2180 should immediately bere-contacted and properly authorized and good-faith conference begun allover again. The only trouble was that they could get no reply.
The dither was terrific and the tumult frantic. When, moreover, evenBetsy remained silent, and Al and Gus had nothing to unscramble, thehigh brass built up explosive indignation. But it was confined totop-security levels.
The world outside the Pentagon knew nothing. Even at ResearchInstallation 83 very, very few persons had the least idea what had takenplace. The sun shone blandly upon manicured lawns, and the officers'children played vociferously, and washing-machines laundered diaperswith beautiful efficiency, and vacuum cleaners and Mahon-modified jeepsperformed their functions with an air of enthusiastic contentment. Itseemed that a golden age approached.
It did. There were machines which were not merely possessions.Mahon-modified machines acquired reflections of the habits of thefamilies which used them. An electric icebox acted as if it took aninterest in its work. A vacuum cleaner seemed uncomfortable if it didnot perform its task to perfection. It would seem as absurd to exchangean old, habituated family convenience as to exchange a member of thefamily itself. Presently there would be washing-machines cherished fortheir seeming knowledge of family-member individual preferences, andpersonal fliers respected for their conscientiousness, and one wouldrelievedly allow an adolescent to drive a car if it were one of provenexperience and sagacity....
* * * * *
The life of an ordinary person would be enormously enriched. AMahon-modified machine would not even wear out. It took care of its ownlubrication and upkeep--giving notice of its needs by the behavior ofits standby-lamp. When parts needed replacement one would feel concernrather than irritation. There would be a personal relationship with themachines which so faithfully reflected one's personality.
And the machines would always, always, always act toward humansaccording to the golden rule.
But meanwhile the Rehab Shop was taken over by officers of rank. Theytried frantically to resume the communication that had been broken off.Suspecting that Sergeant Bellews had shifted controls, they essayed toshift them back. The communicator which was Betsy's factory twin wentinto sine-wave standby-modulation, and suddenly smoked all over and waswrecked. The wave-generator went into hysterics and produced nothingwhatever. Then there was nothing to do but pull Sergeant Bellews out ofthe clink and order him to do the whole business all over again.
"I can't," said Sergeant Bellews indignantly. "It
can't be done. Thoseguys are busy buildin' a transmitter according to the diagram Doc Gravesgave them. They won't pay no attention to anything until they'd tried tochat with their great-great-great-grand-children in 3020. They werephonys, anyhow! Pretendin' to be in 2180 and not knowin' what Mahonunits could do!"
Lecky and Graves and Howell were even less satisfactory. They couldn'tpretend even to try what the questioning-teams from the Pentagon wantedthem to do. And Betsy remained silent, receiving nothing, and Gus and Alwaited meditatively for something to unscramble, and nothing turned up.
And then, at 3:00 P.M. Greenwich mean time, on August 9, 1972, nearlyevery operating communicator in the fringe of free nations around theterritory of the