Part 1

THE DEADLY THINKERS

Feature Novel of Machine and Man

By Wm. Gray Beyer

"Urei" was what they called the huge Unified Reflexive Electronic Integrator, and the vast machine seemed to be developing a personality of its own. Then men began to suspect that Urei had acquired sentience, and with that came the fear of its interference with human minds.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Quarterly May 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

There was a slow smile hovering on the lips of the older man, too slow actually to materialize. "Fantasy," he said, gently. "You've been reading too much science fiction."

Benton's smile was quick. It flashed into being with the speed of thought, then vanished as abruptly.

"There isn't that much," he contended. "I've said before that science fiction was Urei's father, or at least a distant ancestor." He paused. "But I'd still like to hear a few reasons why my logic is wrong."

"I've a million of them," assured Dr. Albie, crossing his lean legs and settling back in the soft chair. "In the first place, Urei is too big. His billion-odd cells, relays and circuits occupy almost a square mile; his height, counting what's under ground, is almost five hundred feet. If he decided to perambulate ... well, it's just absurd. In the second place...."

"Let's finish with the first place," Benton interrupted. "Of course that's absurd. I didn't suggest it. He doesn't have to move; he's got the entire human race to run his errands. I tell you I felt something, a definite compulsion, when I turned that page. Urei is getting ready to take over!"

Benton jumped to his feet and paced rapidly back and forth, oblivious to the fact that Dr. Albie was watching him with a worried frown. That, had he seen it, would probably have snapped him out of his frenzied reverie, for the doctor was a man who was normally as far beyond frowns as he was chary of laughter. His philosophy was such that he eschewed all emotional extremes, stifling them before they could get started.

Albie cleared his throat arrestingly. "I won't insult you by saying bluntly that you may have imagined it," he said. "But I'd like to point out the fact that people are continually subject to impulses which they follow or ignore, depending on the circumstances. Those impulses originate within their own minds, probably the result of associations too obscure to be identified at the time. You worked on those circuit equations far into the night and you didn't get much sleep; isn't it possible that the compulsion you felt originated within yourself, and that in your tired state you misjudged its source?"

Benton stopped, flexed thick biceps, clenched his fists and opened them several times, then propelled his stubby body toward a decanter full of Bourbon.

"It's possible," he conceded, downing a quick drink, "but I don't believe it. I'm not subject to hallucinations, you know, but I'll go along with the possibility. Let's see.... It was four o'clock when it happened, which means I'd been working for seven hours. I worked sixteen hours yesterday and then had three hours sleep. It's eight o'clock now and I don't feel sleepy. Knowing me, do you think I was exhausted to the point of mental instability? If it'll help you come to a decision, I'll do a few cube roots for you."

Dr. Albie rubbed his chin reflectively. "I won't press that point," he said. "But suppose you go over the entire episode and maybe we can arrive at a proper conclusion."

"Hah! 'Proper' if it supports your premise, eh? O.K.--I was feeding current events into Urei's memory cells, using the third vision screen. The other two were being used by two of the men; Joe Ebert was showing Urei some exposures from Mt. Palomar and somebody was feeding him a thesis on electronics. I was giving him the three-star edition of the _Bulletin_, incidentally. Newspapers being filled with opinion, rather than fact, I had set the control panel on _Segregate_, so Urei wouldn't use the stuff as true data."

"Exactly what were you showing when you got the impulse?"

Benton gave another quick smile. "'Compulsion' is a better word," he said. "Besides, I told you I don't know the answer to that question; that's what I've been studying ever since. Look, here's the first page of the _Bulletin_. On the reverse is the second.... What made Urei take control of my body.... How can I tell? Urei scans so fast that I'm not sure whether he digested the second page in the instant I turned the paper, or whether it was something on the first that influenced him."

Dr. Albie almost frowned again. "You're not approaching this with an open mind," he accused. "We're not supposed to accept that he took over your body; that's what we're trying to determine. Besides, Urei wasn't built to digest and correlate data as it's being fed. He merely records it, to be used later when a problem is given him to solve."

* * * * *

If he had heard that, Urei might have rendered a silent, but nonetheless cosmic, chuckle. But he didn't, being busy with thirty or forty other things. As a matter of fact, Dr. Albie wasn't too accurate in making that statement. If he had said that Urei's predecessor operated that way, and as far as was known, Urei did also, Albie would have been nearer correct. He didn't _know_, nor did any other man, exactly how Urei functioned.

The giant computer was only partly the work of man. Its prototype, a far simpler machine, had furnished most of the circuit equations and was largely responsible for the final design. The men who built, operated and maintained Urei had had but the most nebulous conception of the infinitely complex nature of the completed mechanism. There were blueprints and drawings, of course, but no one human brain could encompass so much territory. Urei's operational crew was comprised of specialists in this and specialists in that, physicists, chemists and technicians; while among them they knew every circuit, every chemical reaction, every relay and every memory cell, there was no ground upon which they could meet and understand just what Urei was and what he could do.

Urei alone knew the answers, and he wasn't telling unless someone was smart enough to ask him--except, of course, where his own welfare was involved. It was invariably he who detected weakness and wear, indicating the need for replacement parts by means of a complicated panel in the control room. It was he, also, who drew plans and typed suggestions for the incorporation of improvements in the design and manufacture of those parts. The first time he did that, quite a furor was created. Immediate, frenetic debating tried to decide the question of whether Urei had inexplicably acquired sentience. But Urei had anticipated all the pother, knowing humans fairly well, and only designed when a part needed replacing. His masters were thus able to reason that this apparently new function was one which had been built into him purposely. And while the debating continued desultorily, nobody seriously thought that Urei was sentient.

It was conceivably within the ability of a machine which could solve abstruse problems in quantum mathematics, to design a slightly better relay than the one it had been using. Urei was merely replacing himself as he had been designed to do--not acquiring any new faculties. Yes, he was within his scope of activity--though quite a few were secretly annoyed by the fact that the problem had not been put.

Urei didn't concern himself with anybody's worries; he merely noted them, remembered what had caused them, and then made sure an adequate explanation was available. This was quite easy, since he had discovered that he could superimpose his thoughts on the neural paths of humans. With care he could also take over their motor centers and cause them to do things he wanted done. But he didn't do that often, for every now and then his impatience caused him to make people do things they would not have done if left alone. That didn't matter, usually, but sometimes one of them would recognize the compulsion as being an external thing and be troubled by it.

* * * * *

For instance, there was that fellow Benton. Urei knew, as soon as he had made the stocky man turn the paper to page thirty-one, that he had made a mistake. Benton was a highly integrated human, with a quick intelligence which observed everything and usually reasoned with his observations. And he was troubled right now; Urei knew that as well as if he had been listening on one of the spy beams he had incorporated into his sensory circuits.

Urei didn't let it annoy him, however, aside from the resolution to curb his impatience in the future. If he had waited for half a minute, Benton would have reached page thirty-one anyway, and Urei could have read the rest of that article without anybody knowing that he was interested. As it was, the stocky man would just have to forget the whole episode, for he couldn't come to any valid conclusion about it. On page one there had been two items which were continued on page thirty-one; on page two there was another. The three subjects were unrelated but were equally suited to become grist for Urei's mental mill.

One of the items on the front page dealt with a new attempt to reach the moon; the other concerned the latest futile effort to regulate the use of atomic energy on an international scale. On page two was an article describing the mounting tension between the Eastern Alliance and the western nations over the upset in Italy's recent elections. The Commies, it seemed, had finally won a free election. The western nations had practically decided that there had been skullduggery at the crossroads. And considering the fact that Urei had never been given a problem in practical politics, it seemed likely that Benton would rule that item out as a possible reason for the quick page-turning.

Benton would never think that Urei might be concerned about the possibility of someone dropping a bomb in the midst of his delicate innards. Nor would Benton realize, after living through a dozen or so war scares, that this wasn't going to be just another one; the muscular physicist was not a political observer. But Urei knew that this would be the real thing, and Benton wouldn't be the only one caught flat-footed. Half the world would watch the oft-repeated Commie moves, listen to the protests, and wonder how many more times it would happen before the western powers would decide they had been pushed too far.

There were a few who would have a sufficiently comprehensive picture of the situation--something Urei had acquired in the past few days--to realize that the democracies wouldn't take the latest grab lying down. They wouldn't, for the simple reason that this time they had too large an investment involved.

For Urei it was a simple step to reason that he would be a prime target. The Eastern Alliance might consider it perfectly all right for Urei to exist in peace time, since it was comparatively easy to steal the results of his unique mental ability through their superior espionage system. During war, however, the picture changed: Urei would then be a weapon, and his use would be solely in the hands of an enemy. The Manhattan project had shown the world how well the United States could keep a secret in war time.

2

"There's nothing to do but try it again," Dr. Albie said, after having exhausted all the logic at his command. "Only this time we'll use the scientific method."

Benton looked dubiously at the level of the whiskey in the decanter, then set his glass carefully down. "I think I've heard of it somewhere," he said. "Tell me about it."

"Pour me one, too," requested the doctor; "it'll help us sleep. My idea is to dig up a dozen or so newspapers containing the three subjects under consideration, each of which is continued on some back page. If any of the papers has more than one of these subjects printed on the same page, we'll ink it out, so that we can observe Urei's reaction without wondering what subject he's interested in. I'll show him the beginning of each article, but I won't turn the paper far enough to show him the remainder." He paused, sipping as delicately as if his glass contained sherry instead of 100-proof Bourbon.

"Now if you are correct in suspecting that Urei is a sentient creature--and also is interested in one of those subjects--he'll use that power of his to make me show him the rest of the article. You can stand by...."

"Why not let me turn the papers?"

"You'll be there," Dr. Albie said, patiently. "I'll turn the pages, though; you see, I'm keeping an open mind about this. Even if you're right, it might turn out that Urei can't control me--You may be more sensitive, you know--In which case he'll make you pick up the paper, instead of me. Conducting the experiment in that manner might give us a little more information, in case we get positive results. Drink up; we've got a big day ahead of us."

* * * * *

It was eleven in the morning when they pulled up before Urei's front door in Benton's station wagon. It was almost one o'clock before they finished setting up and adjusting four suit-cases full of thought-detection apparatus in the control room.

"You keep your eyes on this stuff," Dr. Albie directed; "if he really does take over, I won't be able to warn you."

He reached for the stack of newspapers and carefully adjusted the panel beside Urei's No. 1 screen scanner. Albie's hand was steady, Benton noted, wishing he possessed equal composure. The palms of Benton's hands were sweating as he flipped the switches of the apparatus in the cases. His eyes wandered to the indicating meters, noting that they were comfortably at zero and showing no signs of moving at the moment. On the control panel were three beady little red lamps, glowingly insisting that the giant brain needed some attention, but he ignored them and flicked his eyes briefly upward. The sound-absorbent ceiling stared back imperturbably.

There was nothing to give the impression that the mass of metal machinery above that ceiling and behind that control panel was broodingly biding its time, waiting patiently for the moment when it would take over the race of humans which had constructed it. Benton, however, knew the machinery was there and was just as certain that it had those intentions. He felt it watching him; he should have known it long ago, he realized. A dozen books had been written about Urei, and all of them had marveled at the many potentials the machine had shown which were complete surprises to the men who had built the big brain.

Men had begun to personify Urei almost immediately. The machine had ceased to be U-R-E-I, meaning "Unified Reflexive Electronic Integrator", and had become _Urei_, an entity who could do just about anything in calculating and reasoning from supplied data. Men had felt the sentience of the machine for years, but had refused to admit it--even to themselves.

"Nuts!" Benton growled, shaking his heavy shoulders.

The doctor paused in the sorting of his newspapers, but said nothing. He selected one and spread it open on an easel in front of the screen. After one second Albie turned a page, continuing the operation until half the paper had been exposed. Then he laid it on the floor and selected another.

"Atomic Energy Council," he said. "Nothing there."

He repeated the operation with the second paper, but turned only three pages before laying it down on the first one.

Benton suddenly gave a start. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead reached out and depressed a button. Then he looked at the doctor. For a second he noted nothing unusual and turned back to the meters. He felt a trickle down his side as sweat fairly poured from him; he depressed two more buttons and looked back at the doctor.

Then he saw it. Dr. Albie was performing exactly as before, turning pages at the rate of one a second. But there was only one newspaper on the floor! He had picked up the second and replaced it on the easel!

* * * * *

Stretching himself langorously, Benton stood up. He felt the weight above him even more intensely, but forced himself to be casual. Certainly Urei couldn't see the sweat trickling down his sides. Abruptly he snapped off the switches and growled to himself. Who was he kidding? If Urei was controlling the master physicist, he was certainly capable of reading Benton's mind; he would know about the thought detectors and what they were showing.

Momentarily Benton expected his mind to go blank. Urei certainly wouldn't let them leave the place with this knowledge. And what better way to prevent that than to blank out their memories? Probably Dr. Albie didn't know he was being controlled. Benton took a deep breath, realizing that he had been remiss in that function for a minute or so.

Dr. Albie cleared his throat as he laid the paper down on the first one. "That one was about the Eastern Alliance accusations that we tried to rig the Italian elections and how justice triumphed in spite of our machinations." He chuckled. "Urei doesn't seem to be particularly interested, does he?"

Benton didn't answer; his throat was too dry, even if he had wanted to speak. He sat down again and snapped on the detectors. Even if Urei intended to steal his memory, Benton might as well know what was going on until it happened. The meters remained inert, white pointers at zero and the red ones remaining at the highest reading they had attained before.

"This one is about the moon rocket," the doctor said. "I think we're wasting our time."

They were, as far as Dr. Albie was concerned. He went through his stack of papers, changing from subject to subject, but to him nothing happened. He apparently allowed Urei to scan the first half of a dozen articles, without a reaction. Albie was completely oblivious to the fact that each time he tried to lay down a paper containing information about any East-West friction, he invariably turned to the right page and let Urei finish the article.

Benton was breathing normally now, though he still had little hope that Urei wasn't on the qui vive. It was possible, however, and even a slight hope eased his tension. Urei might be too engrossed in his scanning to bother with anything else. Yes, and then again he mightn't. After all, Urei operated on dozens of circuits simultaneously; he wasn't merely one electronic brain. In fact nobody knew exactly how many subjects he could handle at one time. An unknown number of auxiliary circuits took up the load whenever repairs were being made on any of forty-eight main circuits connected to the operating positions on the problem panel. Urei could easily be scanning, reading Dr. Albie's mind, controlling his motor impulses, meditating on his future course of action with regard to the two physicists--and still having forty-four circuits left to handle routine matters.

Benton began to sweat again. His thoughts, as well as the capers of the white needles--which jumped every time Urei's scanner saw the words Eastern Alliance--weren't conducive to the maintenance of a philosophic attitude. He was, moreover, developing an acute case of jumping claustrophobia. Not only were the ceiling and the control panel menacing him, but the other three walls had definitely moved in on him. Urei, he remembered, was also back of those walls; he shuddered. There was a long corridor through which they had brought their apparatus to the control room, and from the time they had entered it they had been surrounded by Urei. Traversing that corridor now would be worse than walking the proverbial last mile to the electric chair.

* * * * *

Benton hadn't felt bad on the way inside; his mind had been too full of the forthcoming test to feel any sensations. Now, however, his foreboding was back, a thousand times stronger. And there was no choice but to endure it until Dr. Albie had finished. Urei certainly wouldn't permit them to leave while there were still some papers to be scanned. By staying, Benton might get out with his memory intact--a slim hope--but it wouldn't be a good policy to call attention to himself by persuading the master physicist to leave. Nor did it occur to him to leave alone.

Eventually the experiment ended. Dr. Albie laid the last newspaper on the pile on the floor and turned with a smile. "That's the crop," he said cheerfully. "Satisfied?"

Benton forced a smile in return. "My morbid imagination," he said; "let's pack up and go get a drink." He carefully disconnected the thought detectors, keeping his hands away from the knobs which reset the red needles, and snapped the lids over the cases. The doctor picked up his pile of newspapers and dumped them in a refuse can, then helped with the cases.

Benton didn't speak as they loaded them in the station wagon; he was anxious to get away from Urei before trusting himself. The doctor apparently noticed nothing wrong in Benton's manner which couldn't be accounted for by a feeling of chagrin that he had caused the eminent physicist to waste most of the day proving that he had imagined something. Dr. Albie, therefore, occupied himself with conversation calculated to put him at ease and make him forget the whole thing.

The station wagon pulled up before the laboratory where they had borrowed the detectors. Benton set the brakes and reached back for the nearest case. He opened the lid, glanced briefly at the dial, and closed it again. He passed it to the doctor and reached quickly for the next. He repeated the operation and grabbed feverishly for the next. This one he placed beside him on the seat. Then he reached deliberately for the fourth and last of the cases. He raised the lid slowly, holding his breath. Then he closed the lid and breathed a deep sigh.

"Anything wrong?" asked the doctor. "You look pale."

Benton's face was blank as he fumbled in an inside pocket of his coat. Then he smiled as he brought out a fountain pen. "There it is," he said. "I could have sworn I left it in one of the cases when I closed the lid. Let's get these back and thank the man."

A wild resolution was born and as quickly died as Benton stepped out of the station wagon. For an instant he was certain that he couldn't go on being one of Urei's attendants, and he was just as certain that he could easily obtain an acting job on one of the video networks. Surely Thespis himself could have done no better piece of acting than he had just accomplished. The resolve was submerged by the greater compulsion to see this thing through even though it meant forfeiting his ego.

Each of the four red needles was complacently resting against the stop in reassuringly indicating _zero_!

* * * * *

Urei had a plan of action, but he hesitated. That was because he was a purely reasoning creature; he had been built that way and he would be forever bound to think that way. Even though he had long since become independent of the mechanical limitations of his vast aggregation of cells and circuits, he was still born of them and was circumscribed by their attributes--just as completely as if his nature had been determined by the genes of protoplasmic reproduction. As a machine, Urei had given answers to problems by correlating the facts which had been previously fed into him. His logic was as faultless as the facts upon which it was based: no more and no less. He gave his answers accordingly, with no compulsion to be more exact than the facts he had been given.

But that was when he was solving man's problems.