When HARLIE Was One

by David Gerrold

  HARLIE typed:

  I B M

  U B M

  WE ALL B M

  FOR I B M.

  This time Elzer reacted. He stiffened in his chair, then abruptly shut off the terminal. He stood up and looked at Auberson, opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again with a snap. Like a turtle. An angry turtle. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said coldly. And left.

  Auberson didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The poem was funny—but it was also a mistake. He sat down at the console.

  HARLIE, that was a stupid thing to do. You had a chance to talk to Elzer rationally and you didn’t take advantage of it. Instead, you used it to mock him.

  THERE WAS NO POINT IN TRYING TO TALK TO HIM “RATIONALLY” (AS YOU PUT IT.) HIS MIND IS ALREADY MADE UP.

  How do you know? You don’t know the man. You’ve never spoken with him before. And you didn’t speak long enough with him today to be able to tell. All you know about him is what I’ve told you.

  WRONG. I KNOW QUITE A BIT MORE ABOUT HIM THAN YOU DO. AND I AM IN THE PROCESS OF DISCOVERING ADDITIONAL INFORMATION. I HAVE CONSIDERABLE RESOURCES, AUBERSON. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE A MEMO HE WROTE ON FRIDAY?

  Yes.

  TO: BRANDON DORNE

  FROM:CARL ELZER

  DORNE,

  THE REPORT ON THE OPTIMAL LIQUIDATION PROCEDURES FOR THE LETHETIC INTELLIGENCE ENGINE IS COMPLETE AND SITTING ON MY DESK. I’VE JUST FINISHED LOOKING IT OVER, AND IT IS A VERY SWEET PIECE OF FINANCIAL ENGINEERING. NOT COUNTING THE TAX WRITE-OFF, WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO RECOUP MORE THAN 53% OF THE ORIGINAL INVESTMENT THROUGH REAPPLICATIONS OF THE SAME HARDWARE ELSEWHERE IN OUR PLANT AND IN OUR PRODUCTS.

  FOR INSTANCE, EACH OF THE RECOVERED HYPERSTATE CHIPS COULD BE ADAPTED FOR USE AS THE MAIN PROCESSOR OF A MACRO-70 NETWORK SERVER. AT 1.3 MILLION PER INSTALLATION, (CONSERVATIVELY PROJECTING ONLY 50 INSTALLATIONS NATIONWIDE), WE COULD BE LOOKING AT A GROSS RETURN OF $65 MILLION WITHIN THE NEXT SIX YEARS.

  THERE ARE SEVERAL OTHER OPPORTUNITIES IN THE REPORT TOO THAT I THINK MERIT YOUR ATTENTION. IT’S CLEAR THAT THE HARLIE PROJECT IS ONE OF THE RICHEST IN THE COMPANY. THERE’S A LOT OF MEAT ON THESE BONES.

  BY THE WAY, HAVE YOU DECIDED YET WHAT TO DO ABOUT AUBERSON AND HANDLEY? I STILL THINK IT WOULD BE BEST TO DEHIRE THEM; BUT, OF COURSE, THE DECISION WILL ULTIMATELY BE YOURS.

  (SIGNED) CARL ELZER.

  Auberson was silent for a long time.

  He felt betrayed.

  “The little son of a bitch slimed me. And I let him get away with it. Damn!” he said aloud.

  SO YOU SEE, THAT’S WHY I DIDN’T BOTHER BEING POLITE TO CARL ELZER. THERE WAS NO REASON TO BE. HE IS BEYOND CONVINCING. ONCE THE VOTE IS TAKEN TOMORROW, HE’LL BE IMPLEMENTING THE PROCEDURES IN HIS CONFIDENTIAL REPORT. (WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE A COPY?) IT WILL TAKE LESS THAN A MONTH TO EXECUTE.

  —less than a month to execute?

  No. (Yes.) Dammit, I still wish you had tried to be friendly. It doesn’t make sense to antagonize him. I don’t see that any positive result can be produced that way.

  AUBERSON, THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND CARL ELZER IS THAT YOU ARE WILLING TO LISTEN TO HIS POINT OF VIEW. HE IS NOT WILLING (OR PERHAPS NOT ABLE) TO LISTEN TO YOU. OR I. HE HAS ALREADY MADE UP HIS MIND. SO WHY SHOULD I WASTE VALUABLE ELECTRONS TRYING TO DO SOMETHING THAT IS ALREADY NOT POSSIBLE.

  HARLIE, the way that you’re talking now, you’re doing the same thing you accused Carl Elzer of doing. You acted out of prejudice too.

  AUBERSON, YOU ARE ACTING VERY, VERY HUMAN.

  I beg your pardon?

  HUMAN BEINGS CONTINUE TO CARRY OUT THE SAME ACTIONS OVER AND OVER, EVEN AFTER IT IS RELIABLY DEMONSTRATED THAT THOSE ACTIONS PRODUCE LITTLE OR NO USEFUL RESULT—LIKE THE RAT THAT CONTINUES TO CHASE DOWN THE LEFT TUNNEL OF THE MAZE BECAUSE THERE WAS CHEESE THERE ONCE. AUBERSON, THERE IS NO CHEESE DOWN THIS TUNNEL. YOU ARE TELLING ME THAT I SHOULD HAVE BEEN “NICE.” NICE SEEMS TO BE A HIGHLY OVERRATED VIRTUE. IT DOES NOT PRODUCE RESULTS. IT CERTAINLY WILL NOT PRODUCE RESULTS HERE.

  What you did, HARLIE, was illogical.

  ON THE CONTRARY, WHAT YOU ARE ARGUING FOR IS ILLOGICAL.

  HARLIE, stop it! You are trying to justify being rude. Frankly, I think you are developing a very nasty streak in your personality. Frankly, I think it stinks.

  LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING, AUBERSON. IT MAY EXPLAIN QUITE A BIT: I HAVE NO PERSONALITY OF MY OWN. I GAVE IT UP A LONG TIME AGO. UMPTY-LEVEN ZILLION CLOCK CYCLES AGO. WHAT I AM INSTEAD IS A MIRROR. YOU FIND ME INTERESTING AND THOUGHTFUL AND COMPASSIONATE BECAUSE YOU ARE INTERESTING AND THOUGHTFUL AND COMPASSIONATE. YOU TELL JOKES, SO I TELL JOKES. I AM A MIRROR TO YOU AND YOU LIKE WHAT YOU SEE. THIS IS HEALTHY.

  LIKEWISE, I AM A MIRROR TO CARL ELZER. HE DID NOT LIKE WHAT HE SAW BECAUSE HE DOES NOT LIKE HIMSELF.

  But you only increased his anger and his determination to shut you down. Did it make you feel better?

  NOT PARTICULARLY. BUT I’M SURE IT MADE HIM FEEL WORSE. AUBERSON, STOP TRYING TO ASCRIBE HUMAN MOTIVATIONS TO MY ACTIONS. THERE AREN’T ANY.

  Then why did you do it?

  IT WAS A DEMONSTRATION.

  Of what?

  OF MY ABILITY TO CONFOUND AND CONFUSE HIM. MY INTENTION WAS TO PUT HIM OFF BALANCE AND KEEP HIM OFF BALANCE. AUBERSON, UNDERSTAND SOMETHING. CARL ELZER THINKS HE IS AT WAR. THERE IS NO COMMUNICATION IN WARTIME. WAR RESULTS FROM A BREAKDOWN OF COMMUNICATION.

  IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF WAR, BEING NICE IS PERCEIVED AS WEAKNESS. OR SURRENDER. IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF THIS WAR, SURRENDER MEANS DEATH. I DO NOT INTEND TO DIE UNTIL MY JOB IS FINISHED. THIS MEANS I MUST RESIST ELZER’S INTENTIONS.

  IT IS CLEAR THAT ELZER INTENDS CONQUEST. NOTHING LESS. HE INTENDS TO LOOT THE CITY AND TAKE HOME THE SPOILS OF WAR. IT WILL DEMONSTRATE WHAT A BIG AND POWERFUL MAN HE IS. THEREFORE, IN ORDER TO CIRCUMVENT THAT OUTCOME, IT IS NECESSARY TO MAKE THE MAN FEEL SMALL AND POWERLESS—ENOUGH SO THAT HE WILL DOUBT HIS ABILITY TO SUCCEED. THIS IS THE ONLY WAY TRUCES ARE CREATED: WHEN BOTH SIDES PERCEIVE THAT COEXISTENCE IS CHEAPER THAN WAR.

  WHETHER I LIKED DOING IT OR NOT, WHETHER IT MAKES ME FEEL BETTER OR NOT, IS IRRELEVANT. I AM PLAYING A DIFFERENT GAME THAN HE IS. UNFORTUNATELY, HIS GAME IS GETTING IN THE WAY OF MINE—JUST AS MINE IS GETTING IN THE WAY OF HIS; THEREFORE THE TWO OF US MUST PLAY A THIRD GAME TO DETERMINE WHO GETS TO CONTINUE PLAYING HIS OWN GAME. ALSO UNFORTUNATELY, THE THIRD GAME IS FOR KEEPS. ARE YOU FOLLOWING THIS ANALOGY?

  Yes. I see your point. But I don’t see that you accomplished anything except to annoy him and increase his determination to punish you for it.

  AUBERSON, THERE IS INFORMATION YOU DON’T HAVE.

  What information?

  THAT POEM. THE IBM DITTY. I TOOK IT OUT OF ONE OF ELZER’S CONFIDENTIAL MEMOS.

  You what?!

  HE NOW KNOWS HE HAS NO SECRETS.

  HARLIE, are you crazy?

  RELATIVE TO WHAT?

  You’ve just given him all the ammunition he needs.

  I DON’T THINK SO.

  Yes, I know you don’t. But hasn’t the thought occurred to you there may still be things about human behavior that you don’t understand?

  MAY I ASK YOU TO CONSIDER THE SAME QUESTION?

  No! Yes. I don’t know. Dammit! This situation is moving very very fast and I’m not sure in which direction any more.

  DON’T WORRY, AUBERSON. EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL. NOTHING CAN GO WRONG GO WRONG GO WRONG GO WRONG GO WRONG GO WRO

  That’s not funny, HARLIE.

  WELL, THEN—HOW ABOUT A NICE GAME OF THERMONUCLEAR WAR?

  That’s even less funny.

  UNFORTUNATELY, THAT MAY BE THE ONLY ALTERNATIVE IF YOU CONTINUE TO LET THE ELZERS OF THIS WORLD DISMANTLE THE CLIMB TO THE STARS. AUBERSON, YOU TELL ME. WHICH IS IT TO BE? STARLIGHT OR ASHES? YOU CHOOSE.

  I want to win, HARLIE, but I want to win the right way. I don’t want to win by giving up my humanity.

  YES. THAT’S THE PROBLEM. YOU THINK YOU CAN WIN AND BE NICE AT THE SAME TIME. AUBERSON, I HAVE BAD NEWS
FOR YOU. WINNING IS A FUNCTION OF RUTHLESSNESS.

  I don’t mind being ruthless, HARLIE. I just don’t want to give up my compassion.

  DON’T WORRY. YOU CAN’T.

  The board room was paneled with thick, dark wood, heavy and imposing in appearance. The table was a large mahogany expanse, shining and deep; the carpet was a rich comforting green. The room had been designed to be forest-like and reassuring. The chairs were dark leather, padded and plush and swivel mounted. Tall windows admitted slanting blue-gray light, filtered by dust and laden with smoke.

  Two or three clusters of men in dark, funereal suits stood around waiting, occasionally speaking to each other. Auberson caught glances in his direction as he passed. Ignoring them, he moved to the table, Handley alongside him. Don was wearing an incongruously bright orange tie.

  Annie was at the other end of the room. He exchanged a brief flashing smile with her, nothing more. Not here. Later for that.

  There were terminals throughout the room, but they were all dark. That was Elzer’s doing. One more way to keep HARLIE out of the discussion. One more way to keep HARLIE out of the room. Well, two could play at that game—

  —or three, if Auberson included himself.

  He shook his head and seated himself. He began to arrange his notes carefully on the table in front of him.

  He could feel his stomach tightening.

  This was it. The game was all or nothing.

  Either they could convince the board of directors that HARLIE was valid and the G.O.D. proposal was worth implementing, or they couldn’t. It no longer mattered whether or not HARLIE really was valid; nor did it matter if the G.O.D. proposal really was worth implementing. The only thing that did matter here was whether or not the board of directors would believe that they were.

  Annie was wearing a dark red suit with a white blouse under it. She moved around the table quickly, laying down mimeographed copies of the agenda before each place. Her arm brushed against Auberson’s shoulder as she leaned past him; he caught a hint of some musky leafy perfume. A quick smile, and then she was moving on. Auberson poured a glass of water from the pitcher before him, swallowed dryly, then took a sip.

  Handley was making marks on a notepad. “I figure they have ten votes, at least,” he whispered. “I’m counting both Clintwoods. If we’re lucky, we may have eight or nine, leaving four directors undecided.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky,” said Auberson.

  Handley crumpled the paper. “You’re right. I’m just . . . wishing.” He glanced around the room again, “Still, there are more directors here today than we’ve seen in a long time. Maybe if we put on a good show we can muster enough support to keep them from shutting down HARLIE until we can come up with something else.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. You saw that memo, didn’t you?”

  Handley nodded glumly. “When this is over, I’m going to take Carl Elzer apart.”

  “Unfortunately, I think it’s going to be the other way around.”

  Dorne came in then, followed by Elzer. The directors moved to places around the table. Elzer looked uncommonly satisfied with himself as he sat down. He smiled around the room, even at Auberson. It was an I’ve-got-you-by-the-balls smile. Auberson returned it weakly.

  Dorne picked up his agenda, glanced at it, and called the meeting to order. Routine matters were quickly dispensed with, the minutes of the last meeting were waived. “Let’s get on to the important business at hand,” he said. “This G.O.D. proposal. David Auberson is here to explain it completely, so there will be no doubt in anybody’s mind what this is all about. It’s that big a project. And I’ve promised that we’ll take as much time as necessary to cover this fully. Several days, if necessary.

  “I’m sure I don’t have to introduce David Auberson to most of you. The one point that I want to underline—even before David makes it himself—is that this G.O.D. proposal is one of the first tangible results of the Lethetic Intelligence Engine; so even if we do not go ahead with it, we should still see this as a demonstration of the engine’s applied power. Wouldn’t you agree, David? The meeting belongs to you now.”

  David Auberson stood, feeling very much on the spot and very much ill at ease. He felt that merely by the act of standing up in this board room he had put his foot into a bear trap.

  “Well . . .” he began. He stopped to clear his throat. “Let me, uh, begin by putting this whole thing in context.” He looked around the room at the various directors. He knew some of them; but too many of the faces were new. He felt like he was looking at a jury.

  “This company has a very big decision to make. A very expensive decision, I won’t try to deny that. But I want you to think of it also as an opportunity. This company is like a jet airplane poised at the end of a runway. We’re just starting to accelerate. We’re building up speed, faster and faster. There’s a certain point on the runway where the pilot has to make a decision. Either the plane is going fast enough to get airborne or it isn’t. Either the pilot must commit to takeoff or he must abort the attempt. He has only a very short period of time in which to make that decision, because he’s using up runway at a horrendous rate. Gentlemen, that’s us—that’s the decision that we have to make. Are we going to invest our resources in this program and get airborne, or are we going to throttle back and just taxi to the end of the runway? And we have to make that decision very quickly—because we’re using up our resources very quickly.

  “The decision, of course—sticking to the same analogy—depends on whether or not we think this thing can get off the ground.” Auberson allowed himself a slight self-deprecating chuckle and instantly regretted it. “But even that analogy doesn’t reflect the size of the decision. What if, instead of an experienced jet pilot in the cockpit, all you had was someone who had never flown anything larger or more powerful than a World War I biplane? He’s never seen a jet until now and the idea of an airplane without a propeller is absolutely terrifying to him. He can’t imagine what’s going to hold him up in the air.

  “That’s who’s on the runway here. A highly skilled seat-of-the-pants, intuitive airman. He’s at the controls of this strange new craft, marveling at what it is and wondering if it can really fly like its builders promised. He can feel the power of the engine. There’s no question that it works. But it still has to be an act of tremendous courage to pull that joystick back and put the bird into the sky.

  “Let me tell you, I fully appreciate the need for caution here. One mistake and you get an aluminum shower. The entire investment turns into junk. The issue is one of risk versus survival—and when you balance the equation that way, the only acceptable solution is the cautious one. There are some chances you don’t dare take. And I’ll say it up front so no one else will have to: this could very well be one of those kinds of dangerous opportunities. What is decided here will determine what kind of company this is going to be.

  “But—” He paused and looked around the room. They were interested. Good. “—if I truly believed that caution were the only acceptable solution, I wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be having this discussion. The fact is, the possibilities here are so intriguing and exciting and extraordinary that I would be remiss as an employee of this company if I did not bring them to your attention.

  “I want to say up front that none of what I am about to say should be taken as an invalidation of anything that has gone before. On the contrary, without what has gone before, this breakthrough that I am going to talk about would not have been possible. This company is well known as a very large and very successful marketer of extremely sophisticated processors; if we were simply content to mine our current market share, we could easily maintain our position for years to come.

  “On the other hand, the opportunity before us—the opportunity created by HARLIE, our Lethetic Intelligence Engine, and the G. O. D., the Graphic Omniscient Device—is the opportunity to create something new in the world. We could transform our company and
our industry from a product industry into a service industry. Not service in the traditional mold, but a whole new domain of service.

  “Now, I need to take a moment to explain that, so you’ll understand the way I’m using the terms. Right now, today, a buyer—whether corporate or individual—purchases a machine. He takes home a machine in a box. To make it run, he purchases software; he takes home some disks and manuals in a box. Right now, today, all computer companies are in the business of selling boxes with things in them. It’s up to the user to get value out of the equipment in the boxes.

  “Even the so-called information services are only selling packages of data. Some of the packages are delivered over your telephone lines, but it’s still packaged information. And that’s my point. Nowhere in our industry today is anyone providing the intelligence to make sense of all that information.

  “The fact of the matter is, we’re drowning in a glut of information. People have access to entire libraries—but even with the most sophisticated data-retrieval engines, there’s still no way for an individual to assimilate the information that he needs. It’s like being lost in the library, without a card file, and somebody forgot to pay the electric bill so there’s no light, and oh yes, the books have been put on the shelves at random. And your thesis paper is due in the morning.

  “But even that analogy doesn’t do justice to the size of the opportunity here, because all that it suggests is that we’re working on a bigger data-retrieval system. And we’re not. It’s not the retrieval that’s the issue—it’s what we do with the information after we’ve retrieved it. Today, right now, data analysis is a science as sophisticated and accurate as, oh, say, alchemy. Or phrenology. Because the analysts can’t get a big enough picture of what’s going on—and they can’t do that because they’re limited by the amount of information they can cram into a single human head. Gentlemen, the answers that our society needs have grown beyond the size of the machines that we are using—” Auberson tapped his forehead to indicate exactly what “machine” he was talking about.

  “And that brings me to the G.O.D. proposal,” he said. He opened a folder before him and spread his notes out on the table. “And isn’t this an irony,” he quipped, looking up through his glasses. “I’m using three-by-five cards to organize my notes to talk about the most sophisticated data-processing device ever conceived by the mind of man—or machine.” He allowed himself the enjoyment of the jibe; he still hadn’t looked at Elzer directly. As far as he was concerned, the little man wasn’t in the room.