by Zach Hughes
He'd been hoping, since the old man was getting cranky and independent, that he'd taken it on himself to make a note of the tampering.
"Is there recorded, anywhere in your memory, any information regarding an order to delete material from any portion of your memory?"
"Wait one," the computer said, and went to work.
Pat settled back. The Century Series was not thefastest computer ever built, but it was among the most
thorough, and had a storage capacity measured in the billions. Even at subatomic speed it would take a while.
"There are no records of an order to delete material," the computer said, two cups of coffee later.
Outside, night came. Inside Pat had shed hisjacket, had eaten a sandwich, had enjoyed oneafter-dinner drink, had made a dozen trips to thesanitary closet to complete the flow of a half-dozencups of coffee through his system. He had the computer manual on his lap, and he was giving the oldman a real workout, coming at him from all angles, rephrasing questions, cross-checking by giving the computer opposing orders, going back againand again to that time lapse between the first two blinks toward Zede
II.
It was a long night. TheSkimmer was a living thing around him. The hatch was open so that thesecurity guard could look in on him now and then,obviously at Jeanny's orders, so the heaters cameon and hummed smoothly. There were clicks andhums, and once each hour the tiny ting of the chronometer and the chuckling and hissings of theold man as Pat exercised every part of his capacity, always coming back to the central question.
The chronometer tingled, and Pat glanced up. Three in the morning. He'd been at it since earlyafternoon. He felt as if he'd been run over by aherd of Tigian buffalo. His mouth was stale and brown from coffee, his head fuzzy, aching.
He went at the old man once again, head on, hisvoice a bit hoarse from talking. "The delete buttonwas used," he said. "It was used on the trip log and on the engine-room log. Material was erased. Iwant to know how much material, old man. Iwant to know who did it. I want to know how she bypassed the fail-safes." For now he had accepted the fact that only Corinne could have done it, andthat she'd done it during those seven and a halfdays while he was delirious with fever.
"There are no records of such actions," the oldman said, not at all perturbed. He could go onwith the game forever. He didn't get tired.
Pat took a break, walked to the hatch, and lookedoutside. The guard had been changed. The newman was young, and he looked miserable standingthere in the chill of early morning.
"Why don't you come into the lock?" Pat asked."We can button up and put some heat into it."
"Orders," the guard said. "But I appreciate thethought."
Pat went back inside, looked at the old man,winking and blinking peacefully, hated him for amoment or two, drew one more cup of coffee. Athought came to him, something he hadn't checked."Information on a fever known as mindheat fever,reference Taratwo."
The long session had accomplished one thing,however minor. The computer was no longer pretending to be hard of hearing.
"No information," the old man droned.
"Double-check."
"No information."
"Diseases indigenous to the planet Taratwo," heordered.
"The planet Taratwo is unique among known planets in that the evolution of viral and bacterialforms is still in a primitive stage. Ash and smokeare health hazards on the planet, and there havebeen recorded cases of disease carried to the planetfrom other areas of habitation. On the Standard Star Index of Public Health, Taratwo is listed asthe fourth most disease-free planet."
"General reference, health and disease. Checkfor mindheat fever."
That took a while. Finally, "There is no reference to mindheat fever. The two words, mind andheat, are not referenced as a unit. However, on thestandard list of pharmaceuticals there is a syn thetic drug, dexiapherzede, developed on Wagner'sPlanet, Zede system, which in the illegal drug tradeis called heat."
"Depth search," Pat said, a feeling of revulsion in his stomach.
"Dexiapherzede was developed for use in treatment of depression. In regulated doses the effecton the patient is a feeling of well-being. In overdose the effect is hallucinatory. Moderate overdoses release the unconscious mind into dominance, and the hallucinations can be somewhatguided by the conscious mind into paths of pleasure or sensuous imagination. Heavier overdosesoverwhelm the conscious mind and hallucinations are not controllable. Very heavy overdoses irritatethe nerve tissue and are sometimes fatal, alwaysaccompanied by loss of consciousness and highfever."
Ah, Corinne.
"Time period of adverse effects of an extreme overdose?"
"Dexiapherzede is fragile, quickly assimilatedand rapidly metabolized by the human body. A nonfatal overdose produces hallucinations and fever for approximately twelve hours, depending onthe individual rate of metabolism."
Seven and a half days. She'd have had to dosehim with that junk over a dozen times.
One more question. "Does dexiapherzede leaveany detectable residue in the human body?"
"Heavy overdose amounts of the drug do moderate damage to certain cells in the liver. The effectsof this damage are self-reparable by the liver over a period of some weeks."
So if she had drugged him it could be proved bya check of his liver. He paced the bridge. He could remember her face as if it were before him in oneof her pictures, and in that face he simply couldnot find the cruelty which would be necessary toput a man through the agony he'd experienced. Hecould still remember some of those nightmares.They'd been coming at him at night ever since his illness, and they were no child's nightmares. Theywere full-grown and damned mean nightmares thatmade him wake up in a cold sweat.
So, she'd drugged him. Why? Just to sit on theship for seven and a half days and play games with the computer? No. It was becoming moreand more evident that Corinne Tower had been amuch better actress than he'd suspected. She'dpretended ignorance of ship's operations, but she'dtaken theSkimmer somewhere while he was underthe influence of the drug, somewhere she didn't want him to know about. And she'd been goodenough at computers to get past several guards inthe trip log, and to erase the engine-room monitoring tape so smoothly that it wasn't noticeable unless compared for time lapse with another tape.Sharp, but not sharp enough to erase the timelapse on the other monitoring tapes, such as
thenutrition servos. Sharp, but not sharp enough tosee that she'd left just a tiny little glitch on thetrip log, just enough to catch the attention of Central's computer.
"She drugged me, old man. She put me underfor over a week. What did she do for a week?"
He dived back into his work. For a week she'deaten—that was shown by the nutrition-servo tapes. She'd used the toilet; this was shown by thesanitary-system tapes. She'd even watched a coupleof movies. Calm as calm. Sitting there watchingpictures while he fought monsters and sweatedblood.
But, as dawn came, and the guard changed outside, he was no closer to the answer. "Dammit,"he said, "what else did she do? Did she move theship?"
"There is no record on the trip log of the ship'shaving been moved," the computer said.
"Did she charge the generator?"
"There is no record on the engine-room log of the generator's being charged."
Pat was grasping at straws. "Print out the lasttwo responses."
There is no record on the trip log of the ship'shaving been moved. There is no record onthe engine-room log of the generators beingcharged.
"All right, old man," Pat said. "I'm beginning toget the idea that you know something I don't know.What
do you know that I don't?"
"I am programmed in many fields of knowledge," the computer said. "Perhaps I know littlethat you do not, in a sense, know, having beenexposed to the information at one period or another of your existence. However, my capacity to recall such information is, by the nature of computers and human brains, greater."
"A philosopher, yet," Pat sai
d. But still therewas something. It tickled at his brain, made him feel that he was near a breakthrough.
"I still say," he muttered, "that you know something I don't know. What is it, dammit?"
"The question is very general," the computer said. "It will require that you transcribe all thatyou know. At that time I will compare your knowledge with that recorded in my chambers and giveyou your answer."
"Go to hell," Pat said, rising, thinking that if hedrank one more cup of coffee he'd turn brown, drawing it anyhow. He looked down at the lastprinted lines.
There is no record. There is no record.
He consulted the computer manual. Somewherein those small but almost infinitely capacious memory chambers, even with the ionization, there hadto be something that would tell him what Corinne had done with those seven and a half days. Hethumbed through the thick book. It would takedays, weeks, for him to check every function, everyarea of storage. He didn't have the time. Jeannywould drag him off the Skimmer kicking and screaming in about seven hours.
The Century Series of computer was a sophisticated piece of technology. In a way, a Centurywhich was ship-mounted corresponded in function with the human brain. A part of the Century operated on what could be compared to the conscious level of the human mind. Another part was muchlike the unconscious part of the human mind whichkept house, operated the multitude of involuntary functions of the system, told the eyes to blink so many times a second without the conscious mindhaving to remember, kept the heart beating, enzymes and mysterious little fluids flowing, thenerves doing their thing. The old man performedsuch a function aboard ship, monitoring and controlling theSkimmer's systems. The computer itself controlled the mundane but vital functions ofthat second-to-second, day-to-day ship's housekeeping. On the "conscious" level, the computer responded to its human controller.
Pat began to read about the computer's automatic functions, got interested, but got nowherecloser to the solution of the problem. He was aboutto put the manual aside and go back to his oralquizzing of the computer when he saw the heading"Space Law." Since he was in violation of the law,he decided to read it. Found the section regarding the penalties for tampering with the trip log, got achill when it was confirmed that X&A could lift his license and seize theSkimmer. Gloom piledatop doom.
"What do you know about space law?" he askedthe old man.
"All relevant information is contained . . ." Andthe computer gave reference numbers for a particular
memory chamber.
"Let's take a look," Pat said.
The computer began to recite space law.
"Skip to the section regarding the trip log," Patordered.
"Access to the trip log is limited to manufacturer and X&A," the computer said.
"Just tell me about it," Pat said.
The computer gave reference numbers.
"What would it take for an unauthorized personto get access to that section?"
"The exact access code."
"How does one get the exact access code?"
"The access code is known only to the manufacturer and X&A."
"Ah," Pat said. "Where were you manufactured,old man?"
"I am a product of Century Subatomics, Inc."
"And where is Century Subatomics located?"
"The three facilities of Century Subatomics, Inc.,are located on the planet Zede II. Plant numberone is
twenty-two point three three miles south-southeast of Zede City—"
"OK," Pat said. He felt as if he was getting closeto something. "If an unauthorized person had the exact access code to the trip log memory chamberand used it, would you keep a record?"
"Yes."
"OK, let's see that record."
"The record is kept in—" The computer gave thenumbers for the trip log chamber with a sub-number. "Access only to X&A's central computer."
Great. But not bad. He could call Jeanny and gether to connect with the old man from down atX&A and see who had used the access code last.
Jeanny was still in bed. "God," she moaned,"have you been up all night?"
"Jeanny, get down to the office as quick as youcan. Plug into my computer and check in the triplog
section and I think you're going to find outthat I wasn't the one who ordered the erasure."
"Tell you what," she said. "I'll call you backafter breakfast when I get to work."
"Jeanny—"
"Oh, hell. I'll call the duty man. He'll check andgive you a call."
He drank another cup of coffee and went to thesanitary closet twice, and then the duty man was on the
communicator.
"Captain Howe, this is highly irregular. However, I have checked, as Captain Thompson requested, and the last access to your trip log was byan authorized computer at X&A."
"And before that?"
"The authorized computer at Xanthos Central."
"And before that?"
"I must warn you, Captain, that I have recordedthe following information for the action section ofX&A. Prior to the last two authorized accesses byX&A and Xanthos Central a deletion has been made.It is serious enough to erase the record of blinksfrom the trip log, Captain. This is the first incidence I've encountered where the computer's record of access has been altered. Someday, whenyou get out of jail, I'd like you to tell me how youmanaged to break the fail-safes and get the accesscode."
"You've made my day," Pat said, closing off.
He slouched in the chair, beaten. The old man, calm as calm, blinked green lights at him in readiness, as if he wasn't tired of the game. "You heartless monster," Pat said.
"You are drawing a comparison which has norelevance," the old man said.
"You know, dammit. You're playing with me. You know and you won't tell me."
"I have been computing something you said previously," the old man said. "You asked me specifically
what I know that you don't know. Is thatcorrect?"
"That is correct. Do you have a different answer?" "By a narrow definition of that question, relating it to your search for the missing segments oncertain of
my storage areas, I can say that I, apparently, know of one memory chamber."
"Access numbers," Pat ordered, feeling a surgeof hope.
"There are no access numbers. This chamber isconcerned with internal function of a Century Series
computer."
"Depth search," Pat said.
"A capacity for self-diagnosis is built into theCentury Series. This chamber is accessible to authorized
repair technicians manually."
"What is the purpose of this chamber?" Pat asked.
"Between cleanings and repairs I note all abnormalities. Upon printout, the technician has a complete
record of those abnormalities."
"Printout," Pat ordered.
"Printout of the self-diagnosis chamber is activated . . ." The computer went into a complicatedtechnical
explanation.
"Repeat that slowly, one instruction at a time,"Pat ordered, after running to get his tool kit out ofthe mate's cabin.
He had removed an access plate, two plug-incircuit boards, and saw, just where the old mansaid it
would be, a two-stage switch. He activatedit. The computer began to spew out symbols incomputer language and figures.
"What is all this?" Pat asked in exasperation.
"I am printing the development of ionization inchamber 73-R-45-B."
"Skip to sections relevant to alteration of thetrip log," Pat ordered.
"I do not control this printout once it is underway."
"Great," Pat said.
He watched the paper emerge. It was coveredwith data of meaning only to the computer and a good
computer tech.
It was difficult to be optimistic, with his timerunning out, but at least the new owner wouldhave the self-diagnosis printout in case he wantedto keepSkimmer in service instead of junking her.
Coffee.
Blah. The old man announcing the numbers of each chamber as he printed his own diagnosis.
Pat sat up with a jerk as he recognized thenumber of the engine-room log. There were only afew abnormalities, and they were readable.
The following discharges and charges of theblink generator were erased on oral ordersfrom an unidentified operator:
She'd gone a long way. She'd blinked the generator several times on the way out and severaltimes on the way back.
It was another thirty minutes, during which Patwent quietly hyper, nerves jangling from too muchcoffee, before the old man got to the section in hisself-diagnosis chamber which dealt with abnormalities in the chamber containing the trip log.
On oral orders from an unidentified operatorthe following blink coordinates were deletedfrom the trip log.
Pat whooped with joy. His hands were shaking from coffee nerves. He had on the printout all the coordinates for the blinks Corinne had taken while he was out. He could check against charts and tell where she'd taken theSkimmer. He was out of thewoods. All he had to do was call Jeanny and tell her.
Tell her what?
He could imagine a stern-faced X&A hangmansaying, "The fact that, without your knowledge,the computer kept a record of the blinks whichyou erased does not lesson your guilt."
Damn. "Is that all, old man?"
Suddenly the printout was supplemented bysound. First the old man's voice. "Space law statesthat access to the trip log shall be by manufacturer and X&A only for the matter of alterations, and for extracting information access is granted to Xanthos Central Control or one of its substations.Therefore, since an unidentified operator, not mentioned in space law, has ordered alterations of thetrip log, I have recorded for later identificationthat operator's voice."
Pat whooped again, and then fell silent as Corinne's throaty, calm voice began to read off anorder to erase the following blinks, and then thenumbers, still in that cool, throaty voice.
He caught Jeanny just as she was entering heroffice. "Get over here as quick as you can," hesaid. "And bring someone in authority with you."
"I'm the authority, Pat, until I turn it over to the action section."
"Then get over here, Jeanny, please."
