Man Vs Machine

by Greenberg, Martin H.

  “She’ll never be the same to me again, will she, Pastor Paul?”

  “No, my friend, I don’t think she will be. And believe me, I take no pleasure in saying that.”

  “And here I thought Nick was such a decent man. That’s all you ever hear about him. How decent he is. And look what he did.”

  “Well, I’d think about it before I blamed him.”

  “But he—”

  “As I said, Richard, God entrusted women with virtue. He demands it of them. Think of Adam and Eve. Who ate the forbidden fruit? Perhaps it was Natalie—”

  “Please don’t say that. I’m sure she didn’t make the first move. It just wouldn’t be like her.”

  A pause.

  “You know that she’s visited me a few times.”

  Surprise. “Oh? When?”

  “She asked me not to mention it.”

  “I don’t like the idea of that, seeing you without telling me.” Pause. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what she said.”

  “I can’t violate a confidence, Richard. But I can say I saw a woman deeply in danger of losing her soul.”

  “Oh, God, I can sure read into that.”

  Then: “You’re leaving?”

  “I just need—right now I just need to be alone. Go for a drive or something.”

  “Maybe you should sit in the chapel and pray for a while. Pray not for revenge; pray for wisdom and courage.”

  This time when he spoke, Richard sounded exhausted. “Maybe that’s what I’ll do, Pastor Paul. Maybe that’s best for now.”

  Nick walked quickly down the hall, found a closet where cleaning materials were stored. Hid.

  Pastor Paul and Richard talked a bit more when they reached the hall. Richard listened to Richard’s footsteps as he walked away to the chapel. Somehow all of Richard’s grief and isolation could be heard in the sound of his shuffling old man steps—the sound inspiring shame in Nick. A single act of adultery could destroy the lives of so many people. He thought of Emily and Richard and the children of both families. Shame burned his cheeks and neck. He felt vaguely nauseated. He’d managed to selfishly overlook—or block out—any of these implications when he began his seemingly harmless flirtation with Natalie.

  His next move was back to Pastor Paul’s door, which stood ajar. He pushed it open. The cleric was at his desk, studying a holo that read “Psych Program version #3.” Beneath the word lay the diagram of a stylized skull with the Title “Attributes” listed within the skull shape. There were six phrases beneath the heading.

  But there was no time to read them because Pastor Paul suddenly swerved in his chair and snapped, “You have no right to be in here without my permission.”

  “I should have knocked,” Nick said, shocked by the other man’s anger. “I apologize.”

  Pastor Paul visibly forced himself to calm down. He took several deep breaths. Then folded his hands as if in prayer atop his desk. “I preach the ways of the Lord, but like most people, even I stray from the path sometimes. Sorry I got so upset.” As he spoke these words, he clipped off the holo and with a gesture invited Nick to sit down.

  Nick shook his head. “This won’t take long. I just want you to know that nothing happened between Natalie and me.”

  “You were listening at the door.”

  “Yes. But that doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me. And it would matter to you if you were the one being spied on.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing?”

  “One kiss. One. And the last time we met in the park, we decided that would be the last time. We’re not immoral people, Pastor Paul. We both felt a lot of guilt for even thinking about having an affair.”

  The cleric leaned back in his chair. “You make it sound so innocent. Even noble—agreeing not to see each other again. But since you were listening at the door, you know my feelings about that. You have already committed adultery spiritually. It’s not necessary to commit the physical act itself.”

  “I don’t believe that. I’ll admit we betrayed our spouses in a way. But we stopped at the last moment.”

  Both men heard the footsteps. Richard appeared in the doorway. He looked in disbelief as he realized that the new man in the pastoral office was Nick.

  “He was spying on us,” Pastor Paul said. “Heard everything we said, Richard.”

  “I’m sorry, Richard,” Nick said. “All I can say is that nothing happened except some flirting.”

  “He’s proclaiming his innocence, Richard,” the cleric said.

  Richard did the worst thing of all. His eyes filled with tears. Nick would have preferred being punched in the mouth or thrown against a wall. Richard was a big man, fit. In a trembling voice that wasn’t much more than a whisper, he said “You ruined my marriage, Nick. It’ll never be the same again.”

  Nick nodded to the holy man. “He’s supposed to counsel you on how to get through this. He should be seeing you and Natalie together.” He sighed, shook his head again. “I’m sure that’s where Emily and I will end up. At a counselor’s.” He glared at Pastor Paul. “But not with this sanctimonious prick.”

  There. He’d said it. The kind of remark that could get him and his family banished forever from God’s Arms. He had visited a heresy on Pastor Paul.

  The cleric stood and said, “I’m going to forgive you your remark, Nick. I understand the kind of stress you’re under. You’re decent enough to feel shame, but you’re also finding shame hard to handle. But if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the church now and let Richard and me talk some more.”

  Nick, knowing the embarrassment Emily would feel not only over the flirtation but—even more so, perhaps—the way he’d insulted the pastor, managed to say, “I apologize, Pastor Paul. I had no right to say that. You’ve been a big inspiration to me and my family. I’m apologizing to both of you now.”

  Richard said nothing. He seemed to have shrunk inside his dark suit. The blue eyes looked stunned, as if they’d seen a monster. As perhaps they had. Few things were more destructive than adultery. He lowered his head, stared at the floor.

  “You’d better go now,” Pastor Paul said gently.

  “I’m sorry,” Nick said again. For a few minutes he’d felt bold, in command. He really had felt himself innocent of the quality of shame and blame the pastor wanted to burden him with. But now he knew better. He had perhaps destroyed two families.

  He left without another word.

  Most parades are held during the daytime. This one was held at 9:00 p.m., an hour later than the residents of Piety Lane had been promised.

  Residents stood on both sides of the streets and watched as the massive robot, Protector IV, appeared beneath stars so brilliant not even the occasional streetlight could dim them. The streets had been cleared of autos. Many of the residents dressed in Sunday morning clothes, wanting the Protector to have a good first impression of them. He would likely be with them for a long time.

  The children, most up past their normal bedtimes, were the most excited, treating this not as a religious event but a thrill only a seven foot ’bot could inspire.

  Many of the adults whispered prayers to themselves. Two women began weeping in an almost orgasmic way on sight of the thing.

  Two of the men, engineers, appraised it from a scientific point of view. Model IV was much sleeker than previous ones. The metallurgy was superior in every way. No rivets down the jaw line. No awkward arm movements. No faint grinding sounds as it walked. Even the facial features, which had been downright ugly previously, simulated a human face to a reasonable degree. A gentle, kindly human face.

  What you had here was a giant ’bot dressed in a black clerical cassock, complete with Roman collar. It walked down the center of the street, waving to the people it served.

  Externally, that was what it was doing. Internally, it was storing massive amounts of data. Names, addresses, even subjective impressions of the faces he stored in memory. These were
matched to personal histories already in its database. The new Protector was also equipped with devices that let him see through walls and record any conversations within two hundred yards in any direction.

  One of the engineers thought of the old Christmas song about Santa Claus—he knows who’s been naughty or nice. This was literally true about the Protector IV. When Pastor Paul had shown his flock the initial holo about the new Protector, some had worried out loud that what the Pastor was advocating was the loss of all privacy. But as Pastor Paul quickly reassured them, if they weren’t violating any of the laws or precepts of the church, they had nothing to worry about. The Protector IV was ordered, and tonight it strode down the nine long streets it served.

  Nick and Emily stood together on their sloping lawn, watching the ’bot as it passed their home. Some of their neighbors were applauding.

  Nick was sure he knew what Emily was thinking. That Nick would soon lose his rebellious ways. The ’bot wasn’t telepathic, but he could see what people were doing and interpret it. Nick would have to be careful of what he said and did or the ’bot might recommend that he be sent to the two-week Get Right With God camp that was one of Pastor Paul’s most prized and dreaded accomplishments.

  As the cleric robot passed by them, Emily said, “I feel so much safer now. In every sense. Don’t you, honey?”

  “Sure,” Nick said. “This is much better than having a spy satellite hovering over the town. It’ll probably invite itself in for dinner some night.”

  “I knew you’d have something mean to say,” Emily said. “I’m going inside.”

  Alison’s scream came in the middle of the night. The children had lately chosen sides in the matter of Nick subtly losing his most fervent faith and hinting that maybe they’d been better off when they’d been Episcopalians and lived in New Chicago.

  Alison chose to side with her father, Thad with his mother.

  So it was Nick who answered Alison’s scream.

  She was now fourteen, a slight, awkward girl he knew was about to bloom into the same slightly ungainly beauty her mother had possessed. Coltish. He couldn’t remember her having a nightmare in years.

  She was all daughter-warmth in his protective arms, gasping, tasting of warm tears when he kissed her cheeks.

  He said all the expected father-things: It’s all right, honey. Just a nightmare. We all get them, even old folks like me. Would you like some water? Need to go to the bathroom? Want your light on?

  By now, she’d calmed herself and said: “I saw it tonight and he really scared me.”

  He didn’t understand her reference.

  “Some boy from school?”

  “No, that thing—the Protector. It’s supposed to look like a minister but it’s this terrible spy. I’m afraid to even have my own thoughts. Maybe—”

  “It’s no telepath, honey. They haven’t advanced that far yet. Thank God.”

  “Oh, Dad, I’m almost afraid to say this, but I think you’re right. I think we were better off in New Chicago. We were decent people there.”

  The ceiling illuminated suddenly.

  Emily had appeared. And heard.

  “You’re a wonderful influence on your daughter!”

  And then Thad was in the doorway behind his mother. “What’s going on?”

  “On nothing much,” Emily said with rare sarcasm. “Just that your father and sister think we should move back to New Chicago.”

  Fifteen-year-old Thad, who had been battling for weeks with Nick about religion (Thad being the truest of true believers) snapped: “You two better watch out or you’ll be going to camp. And you’d deserve it, too.”

  Emily slid her arm around Thad’s broad shoulders. “We’ll just let them stew in their own juices for now.”

  Allison buried her face into her father’s neck, the way she had when she was three and wanted to hide herself from the world.

  Emily wasn’t at the station to pick him up. She wasn’t on the other end of the phone when he called. She hadn’t talked to any of the other housewives there to pick up their husbands.

  Nick mooched a ride with a couple down the block.

  “Looks like you’ve got company,” the man said.

  “That’s Richard Avery’s car,” his wife said. “The fancy new one.”

  Nick had seen the car before they had. He was sure they could probably hear his heart best. It threatened to hurl him to the floor in the back seat. Cold sweat, a knee that trembled, a mouth suddenly dehydrated.

  At least he didn’t have to wonder what they were talking about. Richard hadn’t waited long. Less than twenty-four hours.

  After thanking the couple for the ride, Nick got out of the car and walked up the sloping drive to his house. He saw his daughter and son on the air-trampoline that simulated a gravity-free environment by allowing them to float through the air. No doubt Emily had told them to go outside. A slant of sunlight on the perfect, painted grass and the merry song of a cardinal made him wish he was the same age as his son. Starting everything all over again. So many mistakes now that had long ago defined his fate.

  He waved to his kids, turned, grimaced, and walked in the back door.

  They were in the living room. He thought about fixing himself a glass of straight bourbon. But Emily didn’t want any alcohol in their home. Any amount would have only lead to a speech later. She would undoubtedly quote Pastor Paul: “Sin is hard enough to resist. You sure don’t want to lower your resistance with any kind of alcohol or drugs.”

  His first impression was that they’d become lovers.

  They sat in the center of the long couch. She had her arms around him. He was stroking her hair. Nick could see that one of her breasts was rubbing against his arm. Richard was enjoying himself, no doubt. Only her weeping verified that he was comforting her, not seducing her.

  “Hello, Nick,” Richard said. “I guess you know why I’m here.”

  Over the next two weeks, Nick was forced to turn a small empty room into his bedroom. Take his breakfast and dinner in the basement family room. And babysit the kids three nights a week while Emily went to see Pastor Paul. Not until the second week of this did he realize that the cleric was counseling both Emily and Richard at the same time.

  Several times, Nick wanted to call Natalie to see how she felt about this. He didn’t like or trust this duo-counseling at all. Didn’t see how it could possibly work. His relationship with Emily had to be different from Richard’s relationship with Natalie. One-size-fits-all didn’t apply to marriage counseling.

  He didn’t call Natalie. Couldn’t take the risk. He realized more each day that the flirtation had been prompted by boredom and resentment. God’s Arms was the cause of his malaise, not Emily.

  The Protector reported on him twice and he was put on “probation.” Nick was drinking more than he should, a fact not lost on the robot that roamed the streets collecting data. He was also issued a “notice” about his “constant cursing.”

  One night he stood at the window watching the Protector glide by. He almost did a foolish thing. He almost flipped the robot off. God alone knew what kind of “probation” he’d get for that. Such a thought should have alarmed him. Instead it made him smile.

  The only time he complained to Emily about her counseling was when she came home one night near midnight. Her beaming face was almost intolerable to see. What the hell was she so happy about?

  When she came out of the bathroom following her downstairs shower, he sat in the living room waiting for her.

  “You wouldn’t be having an affair with Richard, would you?”

  “I can’t believe how filthy your mind is. No wonder there’s no room in there for the Lord.”

  “Isn’t that what you’d accuse me of if I came in at midnight?”

  “Pastor Paul said he hoped you’d take this time to think over how you’ve been living the last year or so. The anger and the cynicism and the way you mock God sometimes.”

  “I don’t mock God. I mock religio
n. There’s a difference.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean, Nick. When you mock religion, you’re mocking God, too. But you’re so wrapped up in your ego, you can’t see that. I’m going to bed.”

  The rage he’d felt earlier tonight had been carried away by the depression he couldn’t shake. Rage was a signal of life, if nothing else. A vital sign. Depression was a near-death experience. Abandon all hope.

  When he was pretty certain that Emily was asleep, he tiptoed upstairs and looked in on the kids. Tears came, the familiar ones inspired by his sense of loss and confusion and shame. He loved them so much that he physically ached when he thought of being away from them. Even Thad, though the boy clearly despised him now.

  As he lay trying to sleep on the single bed downstairs, he wondered just what he was hoping for after all? Was he lying to himself? Was patching up the marriage even possible now? Was he seriously considering, in fits and starts, moving to New Chicago? Was his flirtation with Natalie just a sign that he was in need of the raw sensual pleasures of his earlier days?

  He fell asleep, nothing solved.

  During the next week, Emily, usually a strict mother, allowed the kids to stay up nights so they could watch the Protector through the front window. Allison didn’t want to, but Emily made her. She spoke of the machine with a reverence that Nick found both amusing and unsettling.

  And not everybody in the neighborhood shared her reverence for the cleric-like machine. The Protector had bombarded some homes with an unending series of complaints, reminders, ominous warnings. A teenage girl whom the Protector had glimpsed wearing only a bra and walking shorts in her bedroom window had been yanked from her home and sent to the junior version of the Get Right With God camp. Didn’t matter that the girl was about to slip on her blouse just as the Protector saw her. Didn’t matter that she had even drawn the sheer bedroom curtains.

  A wife had been put under a form of house arrest for letting a former suitor talk to her at length on her lawn one evening. The suitor, a man from New Chicago, was warned never to enter God’s Arms again. And then there was the widower who was sent to camp when the Protector perceived him looking at a pornographic magazine.