the watchbirds run down by themselves,” Gelsen suggested.
There was a near-riot. The government representative broke it up.
“Let’s take our lesson,” Gelsen urged, “admit that we were wrong trying to cure human problems by mechanical means. Start again. Use machines, yes, but not as judges and teachers and fathers.”
“Ridiculous,” the representative said coldly. “Mr. Gelsen, you are overwrought. I suggest you control yourself.” He cleared his throat. “All of you are ordered by the President to carry out the plan you have submitted.” He looked sharply at Gelsen. “Not to do so will be treason.”
“I’ll cooperate to the best of my ability,” Gelsen said.
“Good. Those assembly lines must be rolling within the week.”
Gelsen walked out of the room alone. Now he was confused again. Had he been right or was he just another visionary? Certainly, he hadn’t explained himself with much clarity.
Did he know what he meant?
Gelsen cursed under his breath. He wondered why he couldn’t ever be sure of anything. Weren’t there any values he could hold on to?
He hurried to the airport and to his plant.
The watchbird was operating erratically now. Many of its delicate parts were out of line, worn by almost continuous operation. But gallantly it responded when the stimuli came.
A spider was attacking a fly. The watchbird swooped down to the rescue.
Simultaneously, it became aware of something overhead. The watchbird wheeled to meet it.
There was a sharp crackle and a power bolt whizzed by the watchbird’s wing. Angrily, it spat a shock wave.
The attacker was heavily insulated. Again it spat at the watchbird. This time, a bolt smashed through a wing, the watchbird darted away, but the attacker went after it in a burst of speed, throwing out more crackling power.
The watchbird fell, but managed to send out its message. Urgent! A new menace to living organisms and this was the deadliest yet!
Other watchbirds around the country integrated the message. Their thinking centers searched for an answer.
“Well, Chief, they bagged fifty today,” Macintyre said, coming into Gelsen’s office.
“Fine,” Gelsen said, not looking at the engineer.
“Not so fine.” Macintyre sat down. “Lord, I’m tired! It was seventy-two yesterday.”
“I know.” On Gelsen’s desk were several dozen lawsuits, which he was sending to the government with a prayer.
“They’ll pick up again, though,” Macintyre said confidently. “The Hawks are especially built to hunt down watchbirds. They’re stronger, faster, and they’ve got better armor. We really rolled them out in a hurry, huh?”
“We sure did.”
“The watchbirds are pretty good, too,” Macintyre had to admit. “They’re learning to take cover. They’re trying a lot of stunts. You know, each one that goes down tells the others something.”
Gelsen didn’t answer.
“But anything the watchbirds can do, the Hawks can do better,” Macintyre said cheerfully. “The Hawks have special learning circuits for hunting. They’re more flexible than the watchbirds. They learn faster.”
Gelsen gloomily stood up, stretched, and walked to the window. The sky was blank. Looking out, he realized that his uncertainties were over. Right or wrong, he had made up his mind.
“Tell me,” he said, still watching the sky, “what will the Hawks hunt after they get all the watchbirds?”
“Huh?” Macintyre said. “Why—”
“Just to be on the safe side, you’d better design something to hunt down the Hawks. Just in case, I mean.”
“You think—”
“All I know is that the Hawks are self-controlled. So were the watchbirds. Remote control would have been too slow, the argument went on. The idea was to get the watchbirds and get them fast. That meant no restricting circuits.”
“We can dope something out,” Macintyre said uncertainly.
“You’ve got an aggressive machine up in the air now. A murder machine. Before that it was an anti-murder machine. Your next gadget will have to be even more self-sufficient, won’t it?”
Macintyre didn’t answer.
“I don’t hold you responsible,” Gelsen said. “It’s me. It’s everyone.”
In the air outside was a swift-moving dot.
“That’s what comes,” said Gelsen, “of giving a machine the job that was our own responsibility.”
Overhead, a Hawk was zeroing in on a watchbird.
The armored murder machine had learned a lot in a few days. Its sole function was to kill. At present it was impelled toward a certain type of living organism, metallic like itself.
But the Hawk had just discovered that there were other types of living organisms, too—
Which had to be murdered.
Ask a Foolish Question
Answerer was built to last as long as was necessary—which was quite long, as some races judge time, and not long at all, according to others. But to Answerer, it was just long enough.
As to size, Answerer was large to some and small to others. He could be viewed as complex, although some believed that he was really very simple.
Answerer knew that he was as he should be. Above and beyond all else, he was The Answerer. He Knew.
Of the race that built him, the less said the better. They also Knew, and never said whether they found the knowledge pleasant.
They built Answerer as a service to less-sophisticated races, and departed in a unique manner. Where they went only Answerer knows.
Because Answerer knows everything.
Upon his planet, circling his sun, Answerer sat. Duration continued, long, as some judge duration, short as others judge it. But as it should be, to Answerer.
Within him were the Answers. He knew the nature of things, and why things are as they are, and what they are, and what it all means.
Answerer could answer anything, provided it was a legitimate question. And he wanted to! He was eager to!
How else should an Answerer be?
What else should an Answerer do?
So he waited for creatures to come and ask.
“How do you feel, sir?” Morran asked, floating gently over to the old man.
“Better,” Lingman said, trying to smile. No-weight was a vast relief. Even though Morran had expended an enormous amount of fuel, getting into space under minimum acceleration, Lingman’s feeble heart hadn’t liked it. Lingman’s heart had balked and sulked, pounded angrily against the brittle rib-case, hesitated and sped up. It seemed for a time as though Lingman’s heart was going to stop,
