Zach Hughes - Closed System

Pat was grasping at straws. "Print out the lasttwo responses."

There is no record on the trip log of the ship'shaving been moved. There is no record onthe engine-room log of the generators beingcharged.

"All right, old man," Pat said. "I'm beginning toget the idea that you know something I don't know.What

do you know that I don't?"

"I am programmed in many fields of knowl­edge," the computer said. "Perhaps I know littlethat you do not, in a sense, know, having beenexposed to the information at one period or an­other of your existence. However, my capacity to recall such information is, by the nature of com­puters and human brains, greater."

"A philosopher, yet," Pat said. But still therewas something. It tickled at his brain, made him feel that he was near a breakthrough.

"I still say," he muttered, "that you know some­thing I don't know. What is it, dammit?"

"The question is very general," the computer said. "It will require that you transcribe all thatyou know. At that time I will compare your knowl­edge with that recorded in my chambers and giveyou your answer."

"Go to hell," Pat said, rising, thinking that if hedrank one more cup of coffee he'd turn brown, drawing it anyhow. He looked down at the lastprinted lines.

There is no record. There is no record.

He consulted the computer manual. Somewherein those small but almost infinitely capacious memory chambers, even with the ionization, there hadto be something that would tell him what Corinne had done with those seven and a half days. Hethumbed through the thick book. It would takedays, weeks, for him to check every function, everyarea of storage. He didn't have the time. Jeannywould drag him off the Skimmer kicking and screaming in about seven hours.

The Century Series of computer was a sophisti­cated piece of technology. In a way, a Centurywhich was ship-mounted corresponded in function with the human brain. A part of the Century oper­ated on what could be compared to the conscious level of the human mind. Another part was muchlike the unconscious part of the human mind whichkept house, operated the multitude of involuntary functions of the system, told the eyes to blink so many times a second without the conscious mindhaving to remember, kept the heart beating, enzymes and mysterious little fluids flowing, thenerves doing their thing. The old man performedsuch a function aboard ship, monitoring and con­trolling the Skimmer's systems. The computer it­self controlled the mundane but vital functions ofthat second-to-second, day-to-day ship's housekeep­ing. On the "conscious" level, the computer re­sponded to its human controller.

Pat began to read about the computer's auto­matic functions, got interested, but got nowherecloser to the solution of the problem. He was aboutto put the manual aside and go back to his oralquizzing of the computer when he saw the heading"Space Law." Since he was in violation of the law,he decided to read it. Found the section regarding the penalties for tampering with the trip log, got achill when it was confirmed that X&A could lift his license and seize the Skimmer. Gloom piledatop doom.

"What do you know about space law?" he askedthe old man.

"All relevant information is contained . . ." Andthe computer gave reference numbers for a partic­ular

memory chamber.

"Let's take a look," Pat said.

The computer began to recite space law.

"Skip to the section regarding the trip log," Patordered.

"Access to the trip log is limited to manufac­turer and X&A," the computer said.

"Just tell me about it," Pat said.

The computer gave reference numbers.

"What would it take for an unauthorized personto get access to that section?"

"The exact access code."

"How does one get the exact access code?"

"The access code is known only to the manufac­turer and X&A."

"Ah," Pat said. "Where were you manufactured,old man?"

"I am a product of Century Subatomics, Inc."

"And where is Century Subatomics located?"

"The three facilities of Century Subatomics, Inc.,are located on the planet Zede II. Plant numberone is

twenty-two point three three miles south-southeast of Zede City—"

"OK," Pat said. He felt as if he was getting closeto something. "If an unauthorized person had the exact access code to the trip log memory chamberand used it, would you keep a record?"

"Yes."

"OK, let's see that record."

"The record is kept in—" The computer gave thenumbers for the trip log chamber with a sub-number. "Access only to X&A's central computer."

Great. But not bad. He could call Jeanny and gether to connect with the old man from down atX&A and see who had used the access code last.

Jeanny was still in bed. "God," she moaned,"have you been up all night?"

"Jeanny, get down to the office as quick as youcan. Plug into my computer and check in the triplog

section and I think you're going to find outthat I wasn't the one who ordered the erasure."

"Tell you what," she said. "I'll call you backafter breakfast when I get to work."

"Jeanny—"

"Oh, hell. I'll call the duty man. He'll check andgive you a call."

He drank another cup of coffee and went to thesanitary closet twice, and then the duty man was on the

communicator.

"Captain Howe, this is highly irregular. How­ever, I have checked, as Captain Thompson re­quested, and the last access to your trip log was byan authorized computer at X&A."

"And before that?"

"The authorized computer at Xanthos Central."

"And before that?"

"I must warn you, Captain, that I have recordedthe following information for the action section ofX&A. Prior to the last two authorized accesses byX&A and Xanthos Central a deletion has been made.It is serious enough to erase the record of blinksfrom the trip log, Captain. This is the first inci­dence I've encountered where the computer's rec­ord of access has been altered. Someday, whenyou get out of jail, I'd like you to tell me how youmanaged to break the fail-safes and get the accesscode."

"You've made my day," Pat said, closing off.

He slouched in the chair, beaten. The old man, calm as calm, blinked green lights at him in readi­ness, as if he wasn't tired of the game. "You heart­less monster," Pat said.

"You are drawing a comparison which has norelevance," the old man said.

"You know, dammit. You're playing with me. You know and you won't tell me."

"I have been computing something you said pre­viously," the old man said. "You asked me specif­ically

what I know that you don't know. Is thatcorrect?"

"That is correct. Do you have a different answer?" "By a narrow definition of that question, relat­ing it to your search for the missing segments oncertain of

my storage areas, I can say that I, ap­parently, know of one memory chamber."

"Access numbers," Pat ordered, feeling a surgeof hope.

"There are no access numbers. This chamber isconcerned with internal function of a Century Se­ries

computer."

"Depth search," Pat said.

"A capacity for self-diagnosis is built into theCentury Series. This chamber is accessible to au­thorized

repair technicians manually."

"What is the purpose of this chamber?" Pat asked.

"Between cleanings and repairs I note all abnor­malities. Upon printout, the technician has a com­plete

record of those abnormalities."

"Printout," Pat ordered.

"Printout of the self-diagnosis chamber is activated . . ." The computer went into a complicatedtechnical

explanation.

"Repeat that slowly, one instruction at a time,"Pat ordered, after running to get his tool kit out ofthe mate's cabin.

He had removed an access plate, two plug-incircuit boards, and saw, just where the old mansaid it