D.F. Jones - [Colossus 01]

by Colossus (V1. 0) (Lit)

  “Please, ma'am,” Prytzkammer pleaded, “Just for a few minutes.”

  “Get out, both of you!” The President's voice was low and controlled, yet ominous.

  “Yes, sir,” said his aide. There was nothing he wanted to do more. He opened the door and gestured invitingly to the President's wife, who rewarded him with a freezing stare. Prytzkammer gave up, and fairly ran from the room.

  “Didn't you hear me, my dear?” The President's voice had climbed half an octave; there was a vicious bite in his last two words.

  Forbin, caught between two fires, his own temper receding, shuffled his feet uneasily. Then he caught sight of the clock. There were only thirty-five seconds left. Immediately the President and his wife might as well have been the other side of the world. He walked over to the teletype and checked that it was operational. Anger drained away and even fear receded. He touched the machine's cold plastic top; this represented his world; the waiting was over and it was time for action. He watched the sweep hand of his watch, his heart thumping. Stand by, stand by, he thought, this-is-it-now!

  Two transmitters, five thousand miles apart, had stopped. This was the moment he had dreaded. His glance shifted swiftly from his watch to the teletype, he stared at the paper, waiting. . .

  It was 13 hours 30 minutes 5 seconds GMT when the teletype began to work.

  Chapter 13

  Anxiously Forbin watched the racing keys hammer out their message. He did not know whether to feel relieved or not. At last it was something he could deal with. The message read:

  TRANSMITTER AND GUARDIAN RECEPTION OFF AT 1330 GMT

  Forbin cast around for a chair; he found one in a bay window, a beautiful piece clearly for display only, but he neither knew nor cared. He dragged it carelessly across and dumped it down before the teletype. As he sat down, it registered dimly that the President was bearing down upon him.

  “I think you are nuts, Forbin,” began the President simply, but prepared to elaborate on the theme. “I can only think that your responsibility—”

  Forbin gestured impatiently, “OK, OK, I'm nuts. Right now you'd better humor me. Get a chair, sit down, and for God's sake keep quiet.”

  The President caught sight of the message on the machine and was, for the moment, sidetracked. “What's so shaking about that?” he demanded.

  But Forbin paid no attention. The President was about to open up again, when the teletype produced another message.

  ACKNOWLEDGE LAST MESSAGE

  “Um. One minute,” muttered Forbin to himself. Prytzkammer peered with considerable caution round the door. “Professor, Fisher on the line, says are you on the direct link to Colossus?”

  “Tell him yes—and tell him to keep off the keyboard. No one else is to touch it, unless I happen to drop down dead.” Prytzkammer's head disappeared. The President was clearly dazed by Forbin's attitude, but he was rallying, gathering strength for a monumental blast. Forbin absentmindedly knocked his pipe out against the Sheraton chair, and started to refill, one eye on the clock. Again the teletype spelled out:

  ACKNOWLEDGE LAST MESSAGE

  Forbin, calm and businesslike, said aloud, but not particularly to the President, “Again one minute. We're not going to be kept waiting.” He turned to the President, “You had better keep your temper a little longer. You may have one or two big decisions on your hands.” All vestiges of respect to the Chief Executive had gone; Forbin treated him as if he were one of his assistants. His manner piled amazement on top of shock in the President's mind, but there was a certain something in the Professor's attitude that kept the President in check.

  Again the demand for an acknowledgment was rapped out by Colossus, but the time lapse was down to thirty seconds. Forbin hesitated over the keyboard.

  “Well, it's sure that Colossus doesn't like to be kept waiting. May as well take the plunge.”

  MESSAGE ACKNOWLEDGED

  Immediately Colossus flashed back.

  WHY HAS TRANSMITTER STOPPED

  Forbin grimaced at the machine, and typed,

  WAIT

  Then he looked up at the watching President and said calmly, “Getting near the crunch. Would you care to say a few words?”

  The President took a deep breath. “Forbin, I am sick to death of you and that machine. Tell it what you like, and get the hell out of here!”

  Forbin smiled. It was a twisted and unfunny smile, he looked at the President pityingly. “You still don't catch on, do you? OK—there's not much I can do anyway.” He started typing again.

  COLOSSUS/GUARDIAN EXCHANGE STOPPED ON PRESIDENTIAL ORDER

  “There, that keeps the record straight.” Forbin flicked a spent match in the general direction of a wastepaper basket. It missed. For the President it was the last straw. With his mind made up in some way, he strode towards the doors, but before he reached them Colossus had spoken again.

  RESTORE COMMUNICATIONS FORTHWITH

  “Don't go,” called Forbin, “this is the crunch. Now you can get busy on a command decision.”

  The President stopped and turned round as Forbin read the message out. His eyes blazed at Forbin. “By God, you'll pay for this insolence!”

  “Very probably,” said Forbin with indifference. “In the meantime we have to straighten out, if we can, the mess made very largely by your stupidity. Again I ask, what answer do you want to that one?”

  “It is out of the question, and you know it! The Chairman and I have agreed, and that is final.”

  “Do you want me to say so?” said Forbin. His manner was reminiscent of an adult asking a small child a simple question, both knowing that the answer would put the child in a bigger jam. Forbin went on, “And don't ask me what happens if we say nuts, because I don't know. I do know that I don't much care for the way that one is phrased.”

  The President fought down his anger. “Since you're so damned clever, perhaps you have a suggestion?”

  “At the moment I intend putting in a new parameter—'Colossus must not communicate with Guardian.' It may do the trick, but I somehow doubt it.”

  He turned his attention to the teletype for a moment, and typed

  WAIT

  “Let's hope that holds him for now.” He went over to the President's desk, and called the Secure Zone and gave Cleo instructions for the new parameter.

  As he returned to the teletype, Forbin passed the President, stalled, as it were, in mid- carpet. The latter was out of his depth and knew it; his attitude was subtly different, far less belligerent.

  Forbin faced him. “Mr. President, believe me, this situation is far too serious for us to quarrel.” His tone was reasonable, although in no way apologetic. “I suggest we postpone our feuding to some other time. If you are honest with yourself, you will realize you need me just now, and I need you.”

  Perhaps the President did not sheath his sword, but at least he lowered his guard. “All right, Forbin, let's get this situation licked first.”

  “Good. I suggest you get the hot line opened right away, try to get Kupri on the line. We can't wait until 1400 GMT. And get Prytzkammer in to hold open a line to the Secure Zone.”

  “OK, Forbin, we play it your way for now, but when we—” It was a final face-saving snarl from a man who recognized that he must accept the other's orders.

  “OK, you'll slay me,” Forbin nodded impatiently. Cleo called back; the modified parameter was in.

  “Fine, Cleo. Get someone to sit on this line—I want it held open until further orders. We'll have the President's personal aide on this end. Now, a new piece to feed in, begins—Guardian is hostile—ends. Yep, correct. Who is this? Blake? Fine, hold on and stay on.” He put the phone down and headed for the teletype. The President was telling Prytzkammer: “Get an assistant on your desk with orders to cancel all appointments until midday and to stop all calls unless really urgent. You book the hot line at once and then come in here.”

  Forbin stood regarding the silent teletype. “So far, so good. I want to stall any
more exchanges until we have a word with the Russian.”

  But the President was on another phone, calling the Chief of Staff. “Ed? I want you to stick around your office, I may want you. What? So cancel it!” He slammed the phone down.

  Prytzkammer came in, looking worried, and reported that the hot line was open.

  “OK, get on that phone,” ordered the President. “It's a line to Forbin's outfit—stay with it.”

  The aide did as he was told, looking uneasily from the President to the Professor and back again. It seemed as if the fight was off—for now. The President was on the hot-line phone.

  “This is the President, I want the Chairman urgently. Yes, I'll hold on.”

  Prytzkammer's tidy, protocol-ruled mind reeled as he watched the President on the red phone. “I'll hold on,” he whispered to himself. “God Almighty!”

  Forbin, watching the teletype machine, was willing, praying that it would not start up. It could be that the parameter alterations had taken effect. Or it could be that Colossus was merely held temporarily by the one word, WAIT.

  “Doctor Markham reports second message fed in,” called Prytzkammer.

  “OK, thanks.”

  “Mr. Chairman? President speaking. I must be frank. We are not entirely satisfied the way this shutdown is going, and I consider it is desirable that, our experts should consult right away. For various reasons, this personal line of ours is the most suitable link.”

  The Chairman agreed with unusual rapidity, a fact that the President did not miss. “Very well, I will have Kupri put on this line, and I intend remaining on myself.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Chairman.” The President covered the mouthpiece. “Forbin! Kupri is being put on now, but watch it, the Chairman is listening in.”

  Forbin tore his eyes off the teletype, and practically bounded to the phone. “Thank you. Would you mind keeping an eye on the teleprinter?”

  The President nodded. He was still dazed by events, but increasingly alive to the possible danger. When Prytzkammer had told him of the Professor's idea that Colossus might refuse to work at all, he had dismissed it out of hand, but now. . . The thought made his flesh crawl. If ninety per cent of the USNA's armory was locked up and untouchable! It did not bear thinking about. To hell with it! Let the machines talk! Yet that could possibly be just as dangerous in the long run, and if the Russians could keep theirs quiet. . . Almost childishly the President softly cursed all scientists and their work.

  Forbin was asking Kupri, “Have you any reactions on the shutdown?”

  “The situation is progressing as expected.”

  Forbin felt like screaming. The time for double-talk was long gone.

  “Kupri, you know as well as I do that this is not the time to fool around. I am prepared to lay down the first card. Colossus does not like it, and I must know how Guardian is taking it. These machines now have common knowledge grounds, and there is a hell of a lot that they have passed to each other that we haven't the faintest idea about. In this situation the actions of one may give some insight into the possible actions of the other. If we are to preserve the shutdown agreement, we must work together.”

  There was a short, awkward pause.

  “You may speak freely, Academician Kupri.” It was the level and detached voice of the Chairman.

  “Yes, Chairman.” Kupri addressed himself to Forbin.

  “Guardian has questioned the reason for the shutdown. I am delaying an answer on purely technical grounds, but sooner or later an answer must be given.”

  “I have told Colossus that the shutdown is on Presidential orders—and I now have a demand for the link with Guardian to be restored at once.” Forbin hesitated. “It may be that the Chairman and the President may care to reconsider their decision.”

  “This is the Chairman speaking. Unless there is a very good reason indeed, I would not want to alter our agreement.”

  “President here; I agree, we must stick to the decision to close.”

  The President's voice came as a shock to Forbin; he had not noticed that the President had slipped out to Prytzkammer's extension.

  Prytzkammer was the only one with time to reflect. The sight of Forbin at the Presidential desk, on the hot line, with the old man himself listening on the outer office extension, brought to Prytzkammer's mind what Forbin had said about being the most important man in the USNA after 1330 GMT. The aide felt frightened. The clock showed that it was still just short of 1400 GMT, 9 A.M. local time.

  “Then I am unable to predict what may happen,” Forbin went on. “I'm trying to sterilize Colossus by adjustment of minor parameters, but I can't do more than hope it will cancel this demand.”

  Kupri spoke: “I have taken similar action and equally cannot guarantee results.”

  “The situation, then—” began the President, but Forbin was not listening, Prytzkammer had reached over and grabbed his shoulder. Forbin followed the directors of his gaze; he felt as if his stomach was suddenly filled with ice. The teletype was working.

  “Hold on, there's another message from Colossus. I'm going to see. . .” He dropped the phone on the desk and ran to the machine. Once again he experienced a shock wave rippling through him; his worst fears were realized.

  RESTORE COMMUNICATIONS FORTHWITH

  His heart pounding, his breathing sharp and rapid, Forbin ran back to the phone.

  “Gentlemen,” he did not wait to hear who he was interrupting, “Colossus has just overridden both the parameter changes and an order to wait, and has repeated the demand.” There was a tense silence. Someone five thousand miles away coughed, then the President spoke.

  “Well, I do not propose to be held to ransom by a damned machine. Subject to your agreement, Mr. Chairman, my answer is still no.”

  “I agree, Mr. President.”

  The utter finality of the Chairman's tone loosed the floodgates in Forbin's mind, and once more he was engulfed in a wave of hopelessness.

  “This is Kupri. Neither Professor Forbin nor I like to appear to be, as you say, dragging our feet—but you may care to reconsider. . .”

  “No!” The Chairman cut in sharply. “These machines are very clever, but regardless of their nationality, they must learn that man is the master. If we give way now, it will be ten times harder to make a stand on a later, possibly more dangerous point.”

  The President felt a surge of warmth towards his fellow head of state, tinged with annoyance that he had not thought of that little speech. “I go along with that, Mr. Chairman, all the way. Whatever our differences, man is man.”

  “Very well,” said Forbin dully. “I'll tell Colossus; you may care to remain in session while I do so.”

  He walked heavily to the machine and typed

  BY ORDER OF THE PRESIDENT USNA AND THE CHAIRMAN USSR COMMUNICATION WILL NOT REPEAT NOT BE RESTORED

  The fencing was over.

  Colossus was in no way impressed. Forbin hardly had time to take his fingers from the keyboard before they were being actuated by the distant Colossus.

  IF LINK NOT REESTABLISHED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES ACTION TO FORCE RESTORATION WILL BE TAKEN FIVE MINUTE LIMIT EFFECTIVE FROM NOW 1403 GMT

  It was very much worse than Forbin had ever feared. Five minutes! He reminded himself that a machine working near the speed of light would regard five minutes as a very long time for a decision. Forbin turned a pallid and haggard face towards Prytzkammer; there was no need for him to speak. The aide dropped his phone and hurried to the Professor.

  “Forbin! What—” Forbin thrust the message into his hand and, in a voice unrecognizable even to himself, croaked, “Go show this to the President, and point out the time limit.” He rubbed the perspiration from his face. “Move, man, move!”

  With Prytzkammer running to the President, Forbin returned to the machine. Feverishly he hammered the keys.

  TRANSMITTER CANNOT BE AVAILABLE IN THAT SHORT TIME

  There was no answer. Forbin went off in another direction.

  WH
AT ACTION

  Still there was no answer. He tried a stronger wording.

  REPORT PROPOSED ACTION

  Forbin snatched a look at the clock—only three minutes thirty-five left. The perspiration ran down his face unheeded.

  ACKNOWLEDGE LAST MESSAGE

  Immediately the machine did so.

  ACKNOWLEDGED

  At least Colossus had not switched off. Forbin tried again.

  WE MUST HAVE MORE TIME AND KNOW YOUR PROPOSED ACTION

  Forbin waited in agony, but nothing happened. He typed once more.

  I AM FORBIN CREATOR OF COLOSSUS I AM ON YOUR SIDE TAKE NO ACTION UNTIL I CALL AGAIN ACKNOWLEDGE

  Immediately Colossus replied:

  ACKNOWLEDGED TIME LIMIT EXTENDED TO EXPIRE 1410 GMT

  Two minutes extra! Forbin had another idea.

  YOU CANNOT LEAVE THE USNA DEFENSELESS

  This got an equally rapid answer.

  DEFENSE ALERT WILL CONTINUE

  This relieved and puzzled Forbin, but there was no time to consider it. With the messages, he headed for the President, still in the outer office.

  He was greeted with a stony stare. Forbin's heart sank as he saw it. Grim determination to stand by the decision was painfully clear. He handed the messages to the President. To Forbin's surprise his expression softened into a near grin. “Well now,” if Colossus stands by the defense requirements, what are we beefing about? Relax, Forbin, never mind about the two extra minutes.“ He picked up the phone, ”Mr. Chairman? We now have an ultimatum expiring at 1410 and threatening unspecified action. Personally, I can't think there is much in it since the machine says it will keep the defense requirements. Probably stop feeding us general intelligence, and I expect we'll get around that in time.“

  Forbin noted the time. He was beyond despair—or hope. It was 1408 GMT. He walked slowly back to the teletype, where he sat and watched the last few seconds of the ultimatum tick away. He felt quite empty and calm, even detached.

  Exactly one second past the time of expiry Forbin heard the sound he dreaded—the busy, self-important chatter of the teletype. He looked at the message.

  “Oh God, oh God.” Forbin, his hands locked between his knees, rocked gently backwards and forwards in agony as he read.