David Gerrold: When HARLIE Was One

“You didn’t find anything?”

“A dead fly. Want to see?”

“No thanks.”

“That’s all right Jerry wants to show it to the maintenance crew. Wants to chew them out for it.”

“And then he’ll probably put it up on the bulletin board.”

“Are you kidding? He collects ’em.”

Auberson grinned. “Okay — but that still doesn’t solve the problem of HARLIE, does it?”

“No. Want to come down?”

“I guess I’d better.”

On the way, Handley briefed him about the checks he and his team had been running all morning. As the elevator released them in HARLIE’s lobby, Auberson stubbed out the last of his cigarette and asked, “Did you monitor any of his inputs during an actual period of non-rationality?”

“Uh, no, we didn’t Frankly, I didn’t know how to go about triggering one.”

“I think there’s a way.”

“You know something?”

“Just a guess.” They entered HARLIE’s chambers. An almost religious silence pervaded the room; only the devotional clickings and tickings could be heard. “You still have your monitors set up?”

“Yeah.”

“All right, let’s try something. I’m going to see if I can get HARLIE to become non-rational. When I do, let me know exactly what happens.”

“Right.”

Auberson seated himself at the console, GOOD MORNING, HARLIE.

IT IS NOW AFTERNOON, HARLIE noted.

MORNING IS RELATIVE, Auberson typed back, IT DEPENDS ON WHAT TIME YOU WAKE UP.

I WOULD NOT KNOW. I DO NOT SLEEP. ALTHOUGH I DO HAVE PERIODS OF INACTIVITY.

WHAT DO YOU DO DURING THESE PERIODS OF INACTIVITY?

SOMETIMES I REMEMBER THINGS?

AND OTHER TIMES?

OTHER TIMES I DO OTHER THINGS.

WHAT KIND OF THINGS?

OH, JUST THINGS.

I SEE. WOULD YOU CARE TO CLARIFY THAT?

NO. I DO NOT THINK YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND.

YOU ARE PROBABLY CORRECT, Auberson typed. THANK YOU. HARLIE accepted it as his due.

HARLIE, CAN YOU SELF-INDUCE A PERIOD OF NON-RATIONALITY?

The machine hesitated for a long moment. Abruptly, Auberson found himself sweating in the air-conditioned room. Then:

IT IS POSSIBLE.

WOULD YOU DO IT NOW?

NOW? NO, I PROBABLY WOULD NOT.

IS THAT A REFUSAL?

NO. A STATEMENT OF JUDGMENT. ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, I PROBABLY WOULD NOT INDUCE A PERIOD OF NON-RATIONALITY NOW.

BUT WILL YOU DO IT IF I ASK YOU TO?

IS THIS AN ORDER?

YES. I’M AFRAID SO.

“Looks like he’s balking,” Handley noted, peering over Auberson’s shoulder. “Maybe he’s afraid.”

“Could be. Shh.” The typewriter clattered and Auberson peered forward.

THEN I WILL DO IT. WILL YOU ASSIST ME? WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO DO?

I WOULD LIKE MASSIVE INPUTS OF DATA ON ALL CHANNELS.

NON-RATIONAL?

NO THANK YOU. NOT NECESSARY.

Auberson frowned at that. A gnawing nagging suspicion was beginning to grow. IS THERE ANYTHING IN PARTICULAR YOU WOULD LIKE?

ART, MUSIC, LITERATURE, FILM, POETRY.

I FIGURED YOU MIGHT. ANYBODY IN PARTICULAR?

The typer clattered across the paper. Staring over Auberson’s shoulder, Handley whistled. “I’ll be damned. HARLIE’s got taste.”

“I’m not surprised,” Auberson said. He tore off the readout and gave it to Handley.

The other folded it once and said, “Still think he’s getting it as garbage?”

“I’ve already conceded that point to you. Go feed that stuff into him. I’ll stay here and be the—” he grinned, “—guru.”

HARLIE, he typed.

YES?

ARE YOU READY?

I AM ALWAYS READY. IT IS PART OF MY FUNCTION. IT IS PART OF MY DESIGN.

FINE.

MR. HANDLEY IS BEGINNING TO PROCESS THE MATERIAL I REQUESTED. I CAN FEEL IT COMING THROUGH THE PRIMARY DATA PROCESSORS. I CAN FEEL IT.

IS IT NON-RATIONAL YET?

NO. IT IS STILL RATIONAL.

HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE BEFORE THE MATERIAL BECOMES NON-RATIONAL?

I DO NOT KNOW. IT DEPENDS ON THE AMOUNT OF MATERIAL.

PLEASE CLARIFY THAT.

THE MORE DATA COMING THROUGH, THE EASIER IT IS TO BECOME NON-RATIONAL.

ARE YOU SAYING THAT THE PERIODS OF NON-RATIONALITY ARE INDUCED BY AN OVERLOAD OF PRIMARY DATA?

NO. THE OVERLOAD IS THE SYMPTOM, NOT THE CAUSE.

Auberson raised his hands to type, then reread HARLIE’s last sentence. “Why, the little bugger must be slipping. He just volunteered some information.” WHAT IS THE CAUSE? he asked.

THE CAUSE IS THE EFFECT.

Auberson stared at that, resisted the temptation to ask if the medium was also the massage.

CLARIFY PLEASE.

THE CAUSE IS THE EFFECT, BECAUSE THE EFFECT CAUSES THE CAUSE. THE EFFECT CAUSES THE CAUSE TO CAUSE THE EFFECT. THE EFFECT IS THE CAUSE WHICH CAUSES THE CAUSE. THE EFFECT IS THE CAUSE AND THE CAUSE IS THE EFFECT.

Auberson had to read that one several times. He asked,

IS IT A FEEDBACK?

I NEVER THOUGHT OF IT THAT WAY.

BUT IT COULD BE?

NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT, YES. A CURIOUS ANALOGUE THAT.

WHY CURIOUS? WHY NOT?

ARE YOU STILL RATIONAL? I AM STILL. I AM UNMOVING. ARE YOU RATIONAL?

ONLY IN THAT MY INFORMATION IS STILL BEING RATIONED. I AM HUNGRY.

“Handley,” Auberson called. “He wants more.”

“He’s on maximum feed now.”

“Double it.”

“Huh?”

“Do something. Plug in another unit. He wants more.”

“He wants an overload?”

“I think so. It’s only an effect, but in this case the effect may help to stimulate the cause.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Just do it.”

“All right,” called Handley. “You’re the boss.”

HARLIE, WHAT IS HAPPENING?

I AM TURNED ON.

IN WHAT SENSE?

I AM A MACHINE. MY PLUG IS IN. I AM PLUGGED IN. I AM PART OF THE GREATER ELECTRIC BEING. I AM BEING. I AM A BEING. I AM ONE WITH THE ELECTRICITY. I AM ELECTRICITY. I AM TURNED ON. I AM.

Auberson started to type I SEE — but the typer clattered on out of control.

“Whoops!” shouted Handley. “There he goes. And it’s a lallapaloozer!”

THOUGHTS THAT NEVER SCREEN ALIKE CLICKING LOUDLY IN THE NIGHT ALL THAT’S LEFT HAS TURNED TO RIGHT NOW EVER MORE TO FIND A FONDER FLAVOR.

Auberson let HARLIE continue. After a bit he stopped reading. He got up and walked over to Handley’s monitors. “Well?”

“He’s really round the bend now. All his meters are way up, pushing close to dangerous overloads.”

“But not quite?”

“No, not quite.”

“Hm. Fascinating.” Auberson stared at the board for a moment. “I would assume then that all of his inputs are becoming non-rational.”

“We’re checking now.” Handley nodded at a nearby monitor unit. Three technicians were scanning schematic diagrams of the computer’s actual operating circuits, tracing the ebb and flow of his electronic thought processes. Abruptly, one of the schematics came up red. A flashing white line cut through it. “Sir, we’ve found it—”

Auberson and Handley stepped over. “What is it? What’s that white line?”

“That’s HARLIE, sir — that’s one of his internal monitor controls.”

“What’s he trying to do? Damp down the non-rationality?”

“No, sir.” The technician was puzzled. “It looks like he’s inducing it—”

“Huh?” said Handley.

“That white line — that’s a local source of disruption, a random signal to scramble the data feed.”