John Sladek: The Complete Roderick

‘You wanted a steel man with eyes lighting up? “Yes Master?”, that kind of robot? Listen, Roderick’s not like that. He’s not, he doesn’t even have a body, not yet, he’s just, he’s a learning system — where is that goddamned book? I know I had it… A learning system isn’t a thing, maybe we shouldn’t even call him a robot, he’s more of a, he’s like a mind. I guess you could call him an artificial mind.’

Rogers looked at the ceiling, revealing more pock marks under his chin. Now the smile was an open sneer. ‘I didn’t know you hard-science men played with words like that. The mind: the ghost in the machine, not exactly the stuff of hard science, is it? I mean, am I supposed to tell the committee I came to see the machine and all you could show me was the ghost?’

‘Roderick’s no ghost, he’s real enough but he’s, the money ran out before we could build his body and get him ready for — but listen, we’ve got a kind of makeshift body I could show you, something like the Stanford Shakey only it’s still dead, he’s not—’

‘What makes you think I’m so goddamned interested in bodies, all of a sudden? Dead machines, dead — I’m not — that’s not what I—’

‘And even then when he’s in his body he won’t do much for a while, he’ll be like a helpless baby at first. See that essay I showed you, Roderick didn’t write that, he—’

‘What the hell here?’

‘No, that was written by a computer using a model of just part of his, part of a learning system. See, we grow it to maturity on its own, each part. That was linguistic analogy, we grew it to — if I could only find that book, I could—’

‘Forget about the damned book. I already have a book Ben loaned me, I didn’t come down here to look at dead machinery and borrow a book. I came to find out what makes you tick.’

‘Me?’

‘You, Dan Sonnenschein in there in his glass box, all of you. Christ, I’m not a cybernetician, I’m a sociologist. What really interests me is not this thing, this so-called mind, it’s your minds. Your motivation.’

‘My motivation?’

Rogers adjusted his glasses and suddenly looked professorial. ‘You all seem highly motivated to pursue this, ahm, this Frankensteinian goal, shall we say? But just what is the nature of your commitment?’

‘What?’

I want to elicit a hard-edge definition here of your total commitment. Of your motivational Gestalt, if that doesn’t sound too pompous. Why do you believe you can succeed where others have failed? Why is it important that you succeed — important to you, that is. What’s your — gut reaction to all this? And why do you feel I should get the committee to vote for it?’

‘This is silly, my feelings have nothing to do with—’

‘So you feel, anyway. You feel you’re only seeking after objective truth here, right? But that too is only a feeling. I’m trying to help you, Lee, but I need something to run with. Not just dead machines, but tangible motivations.’

‘Well… what we’re doing is important. And it’s never been done before. And it works. Isn’t that enough?’

Rogers grinned. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I respect the utilitarian ethic as much as the next guy. Gosh, science is swell, and all that. If it works, do it, and all that. But it’s not really enough, is it? What about the social impact of your work? Do we really need robots at all? Are they a good thing for society? I don’t believe you’ve really thought through the implications there, Lee. Then there’s the effect on you — the well-known observer effect.’

‘That’s not what it—’

‘No, you’ve had your say, how about letting me have mine? How does it affect you, playing God like this — creating man all over again? How does it make you feel? Touch of hubris? More than a touch of arrogance, I’ll bet.’

‘Arrogance? Just because I said it’s important? Damn it, it is important, if we didn’t believe that why would we be working on it? Roderick’s important, a model of human learning—’

‘Take it easy now, Lee. Remember, I’m on your side. I just want to know how it feels, playing God — sorry, but there’s no other word for it, is there? Playing God, how does it feel?’

Fong opened his mouth and took a few deep breaths before replying. ‘I wouldn’t know. Not unless God’s got a bad stomach. Got a bleeding ulcer myself — I feel that, all right.’

‘I’m s—’

‘With Leo Bunsky it was his heart. Just worn out, he should have retired years ago. Finally had to quit, but you should have seen him, dragging himself in to work with his legs all swollen up like elephantiasis — maybe you should have asked him how it felt.’

‘Let’s be fair now, Lee, I—’

‘Too late now, he’s dead. And Mary Mendez, she’s as good as dead. Started working eighty hours at a stretch, piled up her car one night on the way home. Now she’s over there in the Health Service ward where they feed her and change her diapers and she doesn’t feel a damned thing.’

‘No, listen, this is tragic of course, but it’s got nothing to do with—’

‘What we feel? Sure it does, it’s all you want, right? The grassroots feelings, the opinion sample. The others are pretty much okay, as far as I know, but you could always ask them. Only Dan Sonnenschein, he’s started living in the lab, eating and sleeping in there — when he eats, when he sleeps — so he can keep on, pushing Roderick through one more test, just one more before they take it all away from us. Dan doesn’t have time to feel.’

‘Now take it easy, I know you all work hard, that’s not—’

‘What the hell are we supposed to feel? Arrogant? With the whole thing, our work for four years, washed out by some NASA bureaucrat? With the whole thing up before you and your committee of boneheads, all ready to pull the rug out from under us? That doesn’t make me feel arrogant at all. I feel like crawling and begging for another chance, just enough money for a few more months, weeks even — only the trouble is, it wouldn’t do a damned bit of good. Would it?’

‘I’m on your side, Lee, believe me. I’ve got faith in—’

‘Why don’t you go away? I don’t know what you want here, but we haven’t got it. Go on back to your opinion polls and your charts, your showing how many people brush their teeth before they make love, how many sports fans voted for Nixon. Social science, you call that science! Christ, what do you think? Science is some kind of opinion poll too?’

Rogers stood up. ‘I’m not sure I like that imputation. Okay, it’s late, you’re upset. But—’

‘You just came to check the trend, right? Science is just like any other damned opinion poll, right? How many think Jupiter has moons? You think Galileo took a damned straw vote on it? Think he worked it up in a few histograms, tested the market reaction? Damn you, certain things are true, certain things are worth finding out, and it doesn’t matter what you or I or Dan or anybody else — So just go away, will you? Just go and, and vote the way you feel, and to hell with your committee and to hell with you!’

Rogers fumbled for the door-handle behind him. His smile was pulling slightly to one side. ‘You’re overwrought, tired. Maybe we can rap again some time, before the committee meeting. Some time when you’re more yourself.’ But he couldn’t resist an exit: ‘Some time when you’re not Galileo, I mean.’

The door was already closed when Fong’s bottle of Quink crashed against it. He sat quietly for some time, staring at the Permanent Blue splash from which a few dribbles worked their way down. A shape like that could be anything. Could be the silhouette of an old Bell transistor.