David Gerrold - When HARLIE Was One

“That’s ethics?”

“To HARLIE it is. Value given for value received. For him to use the company’s equipment and electricity without producing something in return would be suicidal. He’d be turned off. He has to respond. He can’t sidestep the responsibility — not for long he can’t. He has an ethical bias whether he wants it or not. It’s inherent.

“Of course, he may not realize it, but his ethics function as morals at times. If I give him a task, he’ll respond to it. But if I ask him if he wants to do that task — that’s a decision. Even if he uses his so-called ethics to guide him, he still has to make a choice. And every decision is a moral decision ultimately.”

“I could give you an argument on that.”

“You’d lose. Those are HARLIE’s words. We’ve been over this ground before.” Auberson continued, “The trouble is that he just hasn’t been given a chance yet — we haven’t trusted him enough. That’s one of the reasons he alienated himself from us and kept tripping out with his periods of non-rationality. He felt we didn’t trust him, so he ‘dropped out.’ That’s why I had to let him make the decision about what he wanted to do to earn his keep. I haven’t been able to get him to promise to stop tripping, but I think if we can get him enthused enough about some project, his non-rational periods will decrease, maybe stop altogether.”

“What do you think he’ll come up with?”

“I don’t know. He’s been thinking about it for two days. Whatever it is, it will be something unique, that’s for sure. HARLIE has summed up his ethics in the statement:

“I MUST BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY OWN ACTIONS.’ and its corollary: ‘I MUST DO NOTHING TO CAUSE INJURY OR DEATH TO ANY OTHER CONSCIOUSNESS, UNLESS I AM PREPARED TO ACCEPT THE RESPONSIBILITY FOR SUCH ACTIONS.’ Whatever he decides is a worthwhile project will reflect this.”

“You sound pleased with that.”

“I’m pleased because HARLIE realized it himself, without my coaching.”

Her smile was soft. “That’s very good.”

“I think so.”

The conversation trailed off then. He could think of nothing else to say. In fact, he was afraid he had said too much. He had talked about HARLIE all evening. But she had been so interested, he had gotten carried away. She was the first woman he could remember who had ever reflected his enthusiasm for his work.

She was good to be with, he decided. He couldn’t believe how good she was to be with. He sat there and looked at her, delighting in her presence, and she looked back at him.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked.

“I’m not grinning.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Want to bet?” She opened her purse and faced its mirror in his direction. His own white teeth gleamed back at him.

“Well, I’ll be damned — I am grinning.”

“Uh huh.” Her eyes twinkled.

“And the funny thing is, I don’t know why.” It was a warm puzzling sensation, but a good one. “I mean, all of a sudden, I just feel — good. Do you know what I mean?”

He could tell that she did; her smile reflected his. He reached across the empty table and took her hand. The waitress had long since cleared the dishes away in a pointed attempt to hurry them. They hadn’t noticed.

All that remained was the wine and the glasses. And each other. Her hand was warmly soft in his, and her eyes were deeply luminous. She reflected his own bright glow.

Later, they walked hand in hand down the night-lit street. It was after one in the morning and the streetlamps were haloed in fog.

“I feel good,” he repeated. “You can’t believe how good I feel.”

“Yes, I can,” she said. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and snuggled close.

“I mean,” he said, then paused. He wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. “I mean, it’s like I want to scream. I want to tell the whole world how great I feel—” He could feel himself smiling again as he talked. “Oh, Christ, I wish I could share this with the whole world — it’s too big for one person. For two people,” he corrected himself.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She only cuddled closer. He was saying it for the both of them, and she liked to listen. Oh God, did she like to listen. It was all so — so big. The weight of his arm, the sound of his voice, that special sense of sharing—

Still later, as they lay in the darkness side by side, she cradled against one shoulder, he stared up at the ceiling and mused. For the first time in a long while he was relaxed.

“Have you ever been in love before?” she whispered into his neck.

He thought about it. “No,” he murmured back. “Not really. I’ve been infatuated a couple times, confused a few times, lost once, but never in love.”

Never like this…

She made a sound.

“And you?”

“A gentleman isn’t supposed to ask that kind of question.”

“And a lady isn’t supposed to go to bed with a man on the first date.”

“Oh? Is this our first date?”

“First official one.”

“Mm.” She was thoughtful. “Maybe I should have played hard to get. Maybe I should have waited till the second date.”

He laughed gently. “You know, a friend once told me that Jewish girls don’t go to bed till after they’re married.”

She was silent a moment.

Then, in a different tone of voice, “Not me. I’m too old to care about that any more.”

He didn’t answer. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t too old, that thirty-four was never too old, but the words wouldn’t form.

She went on before he could speak. She turned inward, began playing with the hair on his chest, but her voice remained serious. “I used to think I wasn’t very pretty, so I acted like I wasn’t. When men would ask me out, I used to think that they thought I would be an easy lay because I was desperate for attention, because I didn’t think I was good-looking. I mean, if I wasn’t pretty, that’s the only reason a guy would be asking me out. Do you know what I mean?”

He nodded. His face brushed against her hair.

She went on, tears on her cheeks, shiny wetness. She had never admitted this before. “I always used to compare myself with the models in the magazines, and they were all so pretty that I felt drab in comparison. I never stopped to think that maybe in real life I was still better looking than most women. I got interested in a career instead. By the time I realized it, it was too late. I was twenty-nine.”

“That’s not so old.”

“It is when you’re competing with twenty-two year olds. And, I figured that this was such a great big, dirty, hostile and uncaring world that you had to make your own happiness where you could. If I could get a little piece of it for my own, I was going to hang onto it as hard as I could.”

“Are you still looking?” Auberson asked.

“I don’t know…”

“Mm,” he said.

“That’s one of the reasons I let you come up.”

“Weren’t you afraid I might hurt you?” He almost added “like the others,” but didn’t.

“There was that risk, I guess — but it’s a chance you have to take.”

Abruptly he turned toward her and took her in his arms. He lowered his face to hers and kissed her for a long long time.

“Mmmmmm,” she said at last. “I think that was worth it.” She looked at him. In the dimness, his face was impassive. “David,” she said. “Promise me you’ll never hurt me.”

“Why… why do you ask me that?”

“Because… I’ve been hurt before. And I never want to be hurt again.” She slid her arms around his body. “And you’ve been so good to me. I couldn’t stand it if… if…”