"Computer jargon, Katerina. In the old days - the very old days - they really did use magnetic tape. And it's possible to construct a program that can be fed into a system to hunt down and destroy - eat, if you like - any desired memories. Can't you do the same sort of thing to human beings, by hypnosis?"
"Yes, but it can always be reversed. We never really forget anything. We only think we do."
"A computer doesn't work that way. When it's told to forget something, it does. The information is completely erased."
"So Hal has absolutely no memory of his... misbehaviour?"
"I cannot be a hundred per cent certain of that," answered Chandra. "There may be some memories that were in transit from one address to another when the... tapeworm was making its search. But this is very unlikely."
"Fascinating," said Tanya, after everyone had thought this over in silence for some time. "But the much more important question is: Can he be relied upon in future?"
Before Chandra could answer, Floyd anticipated him.
"The same set of circumstances can never arise again; I can promise you that. The whole trouble started because it's difficult to explain Security to a computer."
"Or to human beings," muttered Curnow, not very sotto voce.
"I hope you're right," said Tanya, without much conviction. "What's the next step, Chandra?"
"Nothing so tricky - merely long and tedious. Now we have to program him to initiate the Jupiter escape sequence - and to bring Discovery home. Three years after we've got back on our high-speed orbit."
26
Probation
To: Victor Millson, Chairman, National Council on Astronautics, Washington
From: Heywood Floyd, aboard USSC Discovery
Subject: Malfunction of onboard computer HAL 9000
Classification: SECRET
Dr Chandrasegarampillai (hereinafter referred to as Dr C.) has now completed his preliminary examination of Hal. He has restored all missing modules and the computer appears to be fully operational. Details of Dr C.'s actions and conclusions will be found in the report he and Dr Ternovsky will submit shortly.
Meanwhile you have asked me to summarize them in non-technical terms for the benefit of the Council - especially the new members who will not be familiar with the background. Frankly, I doubt my ability to do this; as you know, I am not a computer specialist. But I will do my best.
The problem was apparently caused by a conflict between Hal's basic instructions and the requirements of Security. By direct Presidential order, the existence of TMA-1 was kept a complete secret. Only those with a need to know were permitted access to the information.
Discovery's mission to Jupiter was already in the advanced planning stage when TMA-1 was excavated, and radiated its signal to that planet. As the function of the prime crew (Bowman. Poole) was merely to get the vessel to its destination, it was decided that they should not be informed of its new objective. By training the investigative team (Kaminski, Hunter, Whitehead) separately, and placing them in hibernation before the voyage began, it was felt that a much higher degree of security would be attained, as the danger of leaks (accidental or otherwise) would be greatly reduced.
I would like to remind you that, at the time (my memorandum NCA 342/23/TOP SECRET of 01.04.03) I pointed out several objections to this policy. However, they were overruled at a higher level.
As Hal was capable of operating the ship without human assistance, it was also decided that he should be programmed to carry out the mission autonomously in the event of the crew's being incapacitated or killed. He was therefore given full knowledge of its objectives, but was not permitted to reveal them to Bowman or Poole.
This situation conflicted with the purpose for which Hal had been designed - the accurate processing of information without distortion or concealment. As a result, Hal developed what would be called, in human terms, a psychosis - specifically, schizophrenia. Dr C. informs me that, in technical terminology, Hal became trapped in a Hofstadter-Moebius loop, a situation apparently not uncommon among advanced computers with autonomous goal-seeking programs. He suggests that for further information you contact Professor Hofstadter himself.
To put it crudely (if I understand Dr C.) Hal was faced with an intolerable dilemma, and so developed paranoiac symptoms that were directed against those monitoring his performance back on Earth. He accordingly attempted to break the radio link with Mission Control, first by reporting a (non-existent) fault in the AE 35 antenna unit.
This involved him not only in a direct lie - which must have aggravated his psychosis still further - but also in a confrontation with the crew. Presumably (we can only guess at this, of course) he decided that the only way out of the situation was to eliminate his human colleagues - which he very nearly succeeded in doing. Looking at the matter purely objectively, it would have been interesting to see what would have happened had he continued the mission alone, without man-made 'interference'.
This is virtually all I have been able to learn from Dr C.; I do not like to question him further, as he is working to the point of exhaustion. But even allowing for this fact, I must frankly state (and please keep this absolutely confidential) that Dr C. is not always as cooperative as he should be. He adopts a defensive attitude toward Hal, which sometimes makes it extremely difficult to discuss the subject. Even Dr Ternovsky, who might have been expected to be a little more independent, often appears to share this viewpoint.
However, the only really important question is: Can Hal be relied upon in the future? Dr C., of course, has no doubts on the matter. He claims to have obliterated all the computer's memories of the traumatic events leading up to the disconnection. Nor does he believe that Hal can suffer from anything remotely analogous to the human sense of guilt.
In any case, it seems impossible that the situation that caused the original problem can ever arise again. Although Hal suffers from a number of peculiarities, they are not of a nature that would cause any apprehension; they are merely minor annoyances, some of them even amusing. And as you know - but Dr C. does not - I have taken steps that will give us complete control as a last resort.
To sum up: The rehabilitation of HAL 9000 is proceeding satisfactorily. One might even say that he is on probation.
I wonder if he knows it.
27
Interlude: True Confessions
The human mind has an astonishing capacity to adapt; after a while, even the incredible becomes commonplace. There were times when the crew of Leonov switched off their surroundings, perhaps in an unconscious move to preserve sanity.
Dr Heywood Floyd often thought that, on such occasions, Walter Curnow worked a little too hard at being the life and soul of the party. And though he triggered what Sasha Kovalev later called the 'True Confessions' episode, he certainly had not planned anything of the sort. It arose spontaneously when he voiced the universal dissatisfaction with almost all aspects of zero-gravity plumbing.
"If I could have one wish granted," he exclaimed during the daily Six O'Clock Soviet, "it would be to soak in a nice foaming bathtub, scented with essence of pine and with just my nose above the waterline."
When the murmurs of assent and sighs of frustrated desire had died away, Katerina Rudenko took up the challenge.
"How splendidly decadent, Walter," she beamed at him with cheerful disapproval. "It makes you sound like a Roman emperor. If I were back on Earth, I'd like something more active."
"Such as?"
"Umm... Am I allowed to go back in time as well?"
"If you like."
"When I was a girl, I used to go for holidays to a collective farm in Georgia. There was a beautiful palomino stallion, bought by the director out of the money he'd made on the local black market. He was an old scoundrel, but I loved him - and he used to let me gallop Alexander all over the countryside. I might have been killed - but that's the memory that brings Earth back to me, more than anything else."
There was a moment of thoughtful silence; t
hen Curnow asked, "Any other volunteers?"
Everyone seemed so lost in their own memories that the game might have ended there, had not Maxim Brailovsky started it off again.
"I'd like to be diving - that was just about my favourite hobby, when I had time for one - and I was glad I could keep it up through my cosmonaut training. I've dived off Pacific atolls, the Great Barrier Reef, the Red Sea - coral reefs are the most beautiful places in the world. Yet the experience I remember best was in quite a different place - one of the Japanese kelp forests. It was like an underwater cathedral, with sunlight slanting through those enormous leaves. Mysterious... magical. I've never been back; perhaps it wouldn't be the same the next time. But I'd like to try."
"Fine," said Walter, who as usual had appointed himself master of ceremonies. "Who's next?"
"I'll give you a quick answer," said Tanya Orlova. "The Bolshoi - Swan Lake. But Vasili won't agree. He hates ballet."
"That makes two of us. Anyway, what would you select, Vasili?"
"I was going to say diving, but Max beat me to it. So I'll go in the opposite direction - gliding. Soaring through the clouds on a summer day, in complete silence. Well, not quite complete - the airflow over the wing can get noisy, especially when you're banking. That's the way to enjoy Earth- like a bird."
"Zenia?"
"Easy. Skiing in the Pamirs. I love snow."
"And you, Chandra?"
The atmosphere changed noticeably when Walter put the question. After all this time, Chandra was still a stranger - perfectly polite, even courteous, but never revealing himself.
"When I was a boy," he said slowly, "my grandfather took me on a pilgrimage to Varanasi - Benares. If you've never been there, I'm afraid you won't understand. To me - to many Indians even nowadays, whatever their religion - it's the centre of the world. One day I plan to go back."
"And you, Nikolai?"
"Well, we've had the sea and sky. I'd like to combine both. My favourite sport used to be wind-surfing. I'm afraid I'm too old for it now - but I'd like to find out."
"That only leaves you, Woody. What's your choice?"
Floyd did not even stop to think; his spontaneous answer surprised himself as much as the others.
"I don't mind where on Earth I am - as long as I'm with my little son."
After that, there was no more to be said. The session was over.
28
Frustration
You've seen all the technical reports, Dimitri, so you'll understand our frustration. We've learned nothing new from all our tests and measurements. Zagadka just sits there, filling half the sky, ignoring us completely.
"Yet it can't be inert - an abandoned space derelict. Vasili has pointed out that it must be taking some positive action, to remain here at the unstable libration point. Otherwise it would have drifted away ages ago, just as Discovery did, and crashed into Io.
"So what do we do next? We wouldn't have nuclear explosives on board, would we, in contravention of UN '08, para 3? I'm only joking.
"Now that we're under less pressure, and the launch window for the homeward trip is still weeks away, there's a distinct feeling of boredom, as well as frustration. Don't laugh - I can imagine how that sounds to you, back in Moscow. How could any intelligent person get bored out here, surrounded by the greatest marvels human eyes have ever seen?
"Yet there's no doubt of it. Morale isn't what it was. Until now, we've all been disgustingly healthy. Now almost everyone has a minor cold, or an upset stomach, or a scratch that won't heal despite all of Katerina's pills and powders. She's given up now, and just swears at us.
"Sasha has helped to keep us amused with a series of bulletins on the ship's bulletin board. Their theme is: STAMP OUT RUSSLISH! and he lists horrid mixtures of both languages he claims to have overheard, wrong uses of words, and so forth. We'll all need linguistic decontamination when we get home; several times I've come across your countrymen chatting in English without even being aware of it, lapsing into their native tongue only for difficult words. The other day I caught myself talking Russian to Walter Curnow - and neither of us noticed for several minutes.
"There was one bit of unscheduled activity the other day that will tell you something about our state of mind. The fire alarm went off in the middle of the night, triggered by one of the smoke detectors.
"Well, it turned out that Chandra had smuggled some of his lethal cigars aboard, and couldn't resist temptation anymore. He was smoking one in the toilet, like a guilty schoolboy.
"Of course, he was horribly embarrassed; everyone else thought it hysterically funny, after the initial panic. You know the way some perfectly trivial joke, which doesn't mean a thing to outsiders, can sweep through a group of otherwise intelligent people and reduce them to helpless laughter. One had only to pretend to light a cigar for the next few days, and everybody would go to pieces.
"What makes it even more ridiculous is that no one would have minded in the least if Chandra had just gone into an airlock, or switched off the smoke detector. But he was too shy to admit that he had such a human weakness; so now he spends even more of his time communing with Hal."
Floyd pressed the PAUSE button and stopped the recording. Perhaps it was not fair to make fun of Chandra, tempting though it often was. All sorts of little quirks of personality had surfaced during the last few weeks; there had even been some bad quarrels, for no obvious reason. And for that matter, what of his own behaviour? Had that always been above criticism?
He was still not sure if he had handled Curnow properly. Though he did not suppose that he would ever really like the big engineer, or enjoy the sound of his slightly too-loud voice, Floyd's attitude toward him had changed from mere tolerance to respectful admiration. The Russians adored him, not least because his rendering of such favourites as 'Polyushko Polye' often reduced them to tears. And in one case, Floyd felt that the adoration had gone a little too far.
"Walter," he had begun cautiously, "I'm not sure if it's my business, but there's a personal matter I'd like to raise with you..."
"When someone says it's not his business, he's usually right. What's the problem?"
"To be blunt, your behaviour with Max."
There was a frigid silence, which Floyd occupied with a careful inspection of the poor paintjob on the opposite wall. Then Curnow replied, in a soft yet implacable voice: "I was under the distinct impression that he was more than eighteen."
"Don't confuse the issue. And frankly, it's not Max I'm concerned about. It's Zenia."
Curnow's lips parted in unconcealed surprise. "Zenia? What's she got to do with it?"
"For an intelligent man, you're often singularly unobservant - even obtuse. Surely you realize that she's in love with Max. Haven't you noticed the way she looks, when you put your arm around him?"
Floyd had never imagined that he would see Curnow looking abashed, but the blow seemed to have struck home.
"Zenia? I thought everyone was joking - she's such a quiet little mouse. And everyone's in love with Max, after their fashion - even Catherine the Great. Still... um, I guess I should be more careful. At least while Zenia's around."
There was a prolonged silence while the social temperature rose back to normal. Then, obviously to show that there was no ill feeling, Curnow added in a conversational tone: "You know, I've often wondered about Zenia, Somebody did a marvellous job of plastic surgery on her face, but they couldn't repair all the damage. The skin's too tight, and I don't think I've ever seen her laugh properly. Maybe that's why I've avoided looking at her - would you credit me with so much aesthetic sensitivity, Heywood?"
The deliberately formal 'Heywood' signalled good-natured needling rather than hostility, and Floyd allowed himself to relax.
"I can satisfy some of your curiosity - Washington finally got hold of the facts. It seems she was in a bad air crash and was lucky to recover from her burns. There's no mystery, as far as we can tell, but Aeroflot isn't supposed to have accidents."
"Poor
girl. I'm surprised they let her go into space, but I suppose she was the only qualified person available when Irma eliminated herself. I'm sorry for her; apart from the injuries, the psychological shock must have been terrible."
"I'm sure it was; but she's obviously made a full recovery." You're not telling the whole truth, said Floyd to himself, and you never will. After their encounter on the approach to Jupiter, there would always be a secret bond between them - not of love, but of tenderness, which is often more enduring.
He found himself suddenly and unexpectedly grateful to Curnow; the other was obviously surprised at his concern for Zenia, but had not attempted to exploit it in his own defence.
And if he had, would it have been unfair? Now, days later, Floyd was beginning to wonder if his own motives were altogether admirable. For his part, Curnow had certainly kept his promise; indeed, if one did not know better, one might have imagined that he was deliberately ignoring Max - at least while Zenia was around. And he treated her with much greater kindness; indeed, there were occasions when he had even succeeded in making her laugh out loud.
So the intervention had been worthwhile, whatever the impulse behind it. Even if, as Floyd sometimes ruefully suspected, it was no more than the secret envy that normal homo or heterosexuals feel, if completely honest with themselves, toward cheerfully well-adjusted polymorphs.
His finger crept back toward the recorder, but the train of thought had been broken. Inevitably, images of his own home and family came crowding into his mind, He closed his eyes, and memory recalled the climax of Christopher's birthday party - the child blowing out the three candles on the cake, less than twenty-four hours ago but almost a billion kilometres away. He had played the video back so often that now he knew the scene by heart.
And how often had Caroline played his messages to Chris, so that the boy would not forget his father - or view him as a stranger when he returned after missing yet another birthday? He was almost afraid to ask.
2010: Odyssey Two Page 12