by John Sladek
XIX
Ping, poop, peep. Ping-peep. ‘I’m outa … practice …’
‘… wish they’d just stop referring to it as plague, that’s all. Plague, plague, plague, like to see what they’d print if they really had plague here … my point, that’s frak 13 … because it’s just mercury contamination, simple …’
Roderick sat in the dark hall beneath the picture of Saint Whatsername and her magical piano. From somewhere he could hear the voices of Father O’Bride and his guest, and the sounds of some electronic game.
‘Ha!’ Ping-poop. ‘Oh.’
‘Gotta anticipate, Father.’
‘Mercury poisoning, eh? Sounds serious …’
‘… prefer to call it contamination, what’s in a nomenclature I always say, either way it spells trouble, we got a problem running down the contaminant … my guess is some fun food, problem is there’s … thirteen thousand … narrow it down with questionnaires but … what kid remembers … six months ago? Is that mine?’
‘Yeah, that’s two men on, three up and four to play, love-fifteen, fifteen-two, fifteen-four – Doc, you’re a natural. A natural!’
‘… theory of my own, these talking gingerbread men, all the cases since they came on the market … tried to run one through the lab but they keep delaying … figure maybe certain commercial interests trying to hold things up … maybe pressurizating the Governor …’
‘Heck. Guess I’m real outa practice there … yeah I know what ya mean, big business … little guy ain’t got a chance any more … lay everything you got on the line, pick up the ball and run with it only … darn referee keeps tryina get in the game, know what I mean? Speakina games, howsabout we mosey out to the club and get in nine holes? Forget the lab, they can page you if they …’
Father Warren called Roderick into his study. He looked even more pinched and tired than usual, and one of his hands was wrapped in gauze.
‘Lent,’ he said, and after a moment sighed it: ‘Le-ent. A time of self-denial. Humiliation of the flesh. Renunciation of the world. Repudiation of the devil … what does self-denial mean to you, Roderick?’
‘Gee Father, I don’t know, is it like the cretin who says all cretins are liars?’
‘Ooff!’ Father Warren applied fingers to his blue jaw as though he’d been slugged. ‘Well. Tch. Let’s drop that for the moment. Did you manage to read that book I gave you? Logic Machines?’
‘Yeah, Father. I was wondering about this Ramon Lull and this woman with breast cancer –’
‘Forget it. You’re too young to worry about that, put it out of your thoughts. The point was to get you to see how logic can be put to the service of theology, did you get that?’
‘Well yeah, Father, he made up all these wheels with letters around them so you could turn the inside wheel and bring different letters together, like all the combinations. Like ciphers.’
‘Very good, yes. And what did the letters stand for?’
‘Well things like the seven deadly sins, so you can see how lust makes you angry, or anger makes you envious –’
‘Fine, fine. And there were other wheels with the divine attributes, to show us how God’s mercy is wise, his wisdom is powerful and … and so on. Do you see the point?’
‘Well sure, Father, only I mean it gets kinda silly, don’t you think? I mean where he says, here listen:
‘“If in Thy three properties there were no difference … the demonstration would give the D to the H of the A with the F and the G as it does with the E, and yet the K would not give significance to the H of any defect in the F or the G; but since diversity is shown in the demonstration that the D makes of the E and the F and the G with the I and the K, therefore the H has certain scientific knowledge of Thy holy and glorious Trinity.” Heck, I mean I don’t even think he knew himself what he was talking about, all his circles with lines all over them looking like, like maybe breast cancers –’
‘Didn’t I just say forget that part? The flesh is too much with us …’ Father Warren’s voice became throaty with sarcasm: ‘Except in your case, of course. It’s all nuts and bolts to you, isn’t it? People, emotions, dreams, the sense of sin, the hope of salvation – all just hardware. You’re so superior, aren’t you? Sitting there, not even a hint of humanity in that, that welding mask you use for a face – damn you!’
The wax-coloured hands writhed, pinching and scratching at one another like two scorpions in a bottle. After a moment, one of them calmed itself enough to rise and make the sign of the cross, blessing the robot. ‘Forgive me, my child, I … haven’t been well lately, not that that’s any excuse for an outburst like that … now where were we? I have a book, a book here somewhere …’
The hands began to rummage blindly through the books and papers on his desk, picked up Malleus Maleficarum and put it down, finally seized upon a volume of Mind. ‘Ah yes. Now. I’m going to put a hard question to you, Roderick. Little test, you might say, just now SUPPOSE … suppose you and I are in a lab, performing an experiment. And suppose that your, your brain is hooked up to a very special kind of machine. Now since you say you are a robot, all we really have here is two machines hooked up to one another, right?’
‘Right, Father.’
‘Okey-dokey. Now this special machine can read your mind and show what you’re thinking on a big screen. So by looking at the screen, I can see what you’re thinking, okay?’
‘Okay Father, only –’
‘Never mind technical problems, let’s just say we’ve solved them. I can read your mind. But since you are a machine, it follows that I can do better than that. Because whatever a machine is doing depends entirely upon what it did in the past – along with any new inputs –’
‘I think input is plural and singular, Father.’
‘Any new input, you understand? If this special mind-reading machine knows what thought you’re having this minute, it also knows what thought you’ll have next. So I can look at the big screen and see your thoughts before you have them.’
‘Okay, but –’
‘No buts.’ Father Warren took a handkerchief from his sleeve and mopped the palm of his good hand. ‘I am absolutely and scientifically certain of your thoughts before you are. If I ask you a question, I know the answer you’ll give before you give it. Are you with me so far?’
‘I think so, Father. Do I get to see the big screen too?’
‘We’ll come to that.’
‘Because if I do, I could see I have a thought before I have it, and isn’t that imposs –’
‘I said we’ll come to that! Okay no, you can’t see the screen. But you’re hooked up to this machine, and I ask you, “Do you believe this machine can correctly predict that you will answer ‘No’ to this question?”’
Roderick thought it over for a moment. ‘Heck Father that’s just a plain old paradox, if I answer “No” the machine has to perdick I’ll say “No” so I’m wrong not to believe it. But if I say “Yes” the machine perdicks that, so I’m wrong again.’
‘Hmm, maybe I’ve got that wrong somewhere.’ Father Warren studied the book, cracking his knuckles. ‘Suppose we put “Yes” in place of “No”, yes that’s it, suppose –’
‘Well then I’m right all the time, Father. If I say “Yes” the machine knows I’ll say “Yes” so it’s right and I’m right. And if I say “No” –’
‘Okay then let me try it this way: “Would you be right to answer ‘No’ if I asked you whether you believed this machine can correctly predict your answer to this question?” Answer yes or no.’
‘But heck Father it doesn’t matter what I answer, the machine has to say No –’
‘Exactly! It has no choice. But you do. You, Roderick, have free will. Ergo you are not a robot after all, but a human being, made in God’s –’
‘Yeah, but Father holy Osiris it’s just words, I only get a choice because the machine doesn’t have any, it’s like a – you don’t even need a big screen there, just a sign saying NO, what kind
a free will is that? I mean, sure I can choose which NO I mean, just like I can choose with a two-headed coin …’
An hour later the priestly hands were still clawing through books and piles of notes. ‘Okay then, suppose I ask you: “If I asked you whether you disbelieved that you would be right to answer ‘No’ if I didn’t ask you –” No wait a minute, almost got it now. “If I asked –” No, “If I didn’t ask, yes, if I didn’t …”’
‘How’s the workshop?’ Pa asked. ‘Radio still going?’
‘Yup.’ Roderick picked at the pattern on the quilt.
‘What did you learn today?’
Roderick told him about Father Warren’s hypothetical machine.
‘Well I’ll be damned! Son, if you had a machine that good at reading your mind, you wouldn’t need a mind anyway, throw it away and just use the machine. And vicey versa, throw the machine away and use your mind for a machine. By the way, got another cipher for you, toughest one I ever worked out.’
AAA AAA AAAA AA AAA AAAA AAAA
Roderick looked at it for a few seconds. ‘Nob gnu jinx’d by dab hand Kurd, but I think the apostrophe’s cheating.’
Pa was amazed. ‘But how the heck did you –?’
Roderick winked; that is, put a hand over his eye. ‘My secret, Pa.’ It wouldn’t do to tell Pa that he’d peeked at the answer earlier. A little mystery seemed to perk him up, made it seem almost as if he weren’t dying.
He knew Pa was dying. Only the other day the old man had groaned, ‘I’m tired now, son … like to rest a mite …’ and everyone knew what that meant. Besides, Ma was baking a bushel of gingerbread boys every day, and throwing them away every night. Probably she reckoned that the sickness would get drawn out of Pa somehow and enter into the little figures – or maybe she just wanted to keep busy. Either way, Ma was worried.
Only the doctor seemed cheerful. Every day Roderick called Dr Welby up, and every day he refused to come out to the house.
‘He’ll be fine, take it from me. As your family doctor, I can assure you there’s nothing to worry about. That’s off the record, of course. Gotta go now, Judge Bangfield wants me to look over another lakeside propeerty …’ One day Dr Welby had listened to Pa’s heart over the phone and pronounced him strong as a horse.
*
‘Seen her myself, Sheriff, throwin’ ’em away. Hell, if what this Doc Sam says is true, well …’
‘Jake, why don’t you just sit down and shut up a while. I’m tryina find me a game show here, don’t seem to be nothin’ on this thing but news …’
‘Hey, leave it a minute, that’s inneresting, looky that!’ Jake McIlvaney shifted some Wanted posters and sat on the counter, staring at the screen.
‘… essor Rogers is still at large. The drama began yesterday when the professor invited a number of colleagues to dinner. One of them was Dr Coppola, who now takes over the story.’
‘Well he told us it was a leg of pork but I didn’t study anatomy for nothing. Took one look and I said to myself, Ken, something’s wrong. Something’s definitely wrong. So I cut a little tissue sample and took it to the lab, right? So …’
The sheriff pushed a button. ‘… tastes like honey. Looks like honey – BUT IT’S BEEZEE …’
‘Don’t see why they gotta yell at you.’
‘Hey let’s see that Cheesecake Murders thing again –’
‘Shut up, Jake.’
‘… touch the YES button if you prefer a happy ending, touch …’
‘… appropriations for the top secret super think tank near Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. In this exclusive interview, the head of the prestigious Orinoco Institute told us just what goes on in those clandestinized smoke-filled rooms …’
‘… behind every car I sell at low-low-LOW pri …’
‘… BITST! BITST! BOP, BOP, BOP! It’sa treat! It’swhen you eat! It’s 0 so neat! It’s got the beat! It’s itsy, it’s itsy, it’s bitsy, it’s …’
Finally the sheriff turned it off. ‘Hundred and fifty a month I pay for cable, they can’t even get in one damn game show. Now what’s eatin’ you, Jake?’
The story the TV repairman the disc jockey the waitress the sister of the waitress the preacher the barber the deputy the optometrist the lawyer the daughter-in-law of the lawyer the mechanic the butcher the electrician the young woman the nurse the friend of the nurse the carpenter the grocer the sign painter the father-in-law of the sign painter the old man the baker the young man the grandfather of the young man the plumber the doctor the old woman the druggist the jury the meter reader the cousin of the meter reader the gift stamp redeemer the farmer the clerk the brother-in-law of the clerk the gas station man the teacher the bartender the undertaker the salesman the vet the Rotarian president the dentist the used car dealer the insurance man the chiropractor’s wife the mother of the preacher the waitress the neighbour of the disc jockey the uncle of the TV repairman avoided visited stopped defended complained of was good to liked did fillings on met was close to envied called spoke to was related to disliked spoke to saw loved waved at had known for ages visited convicted revived hated cured befriended listened to helped saw awaited supported smiled at was thick with spurned once ran over admired gave a ride to annoyed barely knew married lived near represented fitted lenses for arrested shaved greeted lived with waited on humoured told got around quickly. No one really believed it but …
Roderick was sitting at the dining-table trying to make sense out of some of the bills. Ma sat opposite, nibbling gingerbread and reading The Golden Bough.
‘I don’t know, I’ve tried everything. I put a gingerbread boy under his pillow. All he did was complain about the crumbs. Think I’ll give up on gingerbread.’
‘How the heck did we get a thousand-dollar phone bill? All local calls, too, practically.’ Roderick patted his mouth, indicating a yawn. ‘Be glad when my new face gets here, Ma. I mean I really get tired of spelling everything out
A June-bug buzzed in and plopped on the electric bill, which was a final demand. ‘Must be a hole in the screen,’ said Roderick. ‘You know we might clear these up if I quit school and got a job. They’d probably give me a diploma if I asked – Father Warren wants to get rid of me, I think.’
Ma said, ‘I wonder … what if I tried smearing Pa all over with this turmeric paste while he sits on the hide of a red bull –’
‘FBI! Freeze!’ said a voice. Roderick put his hands up.
‘Oh!’ Ma craned around. ‘Agent Wcz, isn’t it? And Sheriff Benson, how nice. But who are these other gentlemen?’
‘Freeze!’ warned Wcz.
‘Don’t I wish I could, weather like this! Well come in if you’re going to, don’t keep letting June-bugs in.’
‘Are we under arrest?’ Roderick asked.
Wcz kept the gun trained on him. ‘Why, what have you done?’
The other men shuffled in and introduced themselves. ‘IRS,’ said one. ‘I’ll take those papers, tin-face.’
‘CIA,’ said a second. ‘Don’t worry about me folks, I have no jurisdiction here, just observing in an observer capacity.’
‘Me too,’ said another man, who gave no initials. ‘You Roger Wood? Just like to take a coupla pictures of you, one full-face and one profile. Hear you been going around posing as a robot, that about the size of it? Just speak into the microphone.’
Before he could answer, another man pushed in. ‘FDA. We’re confiscating those so-called gingerbread men –’
‘Boys,’ Ma protested.
‘Men, boys, everything. We’ll also take all the ginger you got in the house – all the ginseng, too – and what’s this book? Golden Buff? Any recipes in here? Cancer cures, looks like a jaundice cure right here, we’ll take it along …’
Pa called down from the top of the stairs. ‘What’s going on? What’s going on?’ But Roderick was too busy explaining that his face was not a removable mask as in Westworld, and Ma was trying to argue the FDA man out of taking away her kitchen stove. Pa made his
way slowly down the stairs over the next hour, while the men milled about and Sheriff Benson sat in the corner looking embarrassed. The sheriff was the last to leave, saying:
‘Sorry folks, hope this won’t influence your vote …’
Ma went to the door and shouted after them: ‘Okay if we melt now?’
Pa made it to the foot of the stairs. ‘What was going on, Mary?’
‘Nothing, Paul. You go back to bed and get some rest.’
‘Sure, okay.’ It took Pa several minutes to turn around and face the stairs again. Before he started up again, he bent and picked up a scrap of paper.
‘Looks like they missed this gas bill, here – oh my God! Oh!’
Roderick caught him before he fell, but Pa was dead.
‘Come out? For what?’ Dr Welby sounded cross. ‘Look buddy, if you had a bridge hand like this you wouldn’t drop it to go look at a stiff either. Don’t quote me on that. Look, musta been his heart, thought it sounded tricky the other day … tell you what, I’ll make a note, I’m doing it now, don’t get excited … make a note to leave a death certificate in my office, you pick it up when you want. Fair enough? Because you’ll be coming in anyway to pay your bill.’
‘But doctor, it’s Ma. She’s bad, I think maybe she’s gonna die too …’
That’s right, tell her a little grief is only natural, but if she needs any medication, antidepressants
‘But doctor –’
‘Sorry about your dad. But you know, my work is with the living. The plaintive cry of a newborn babe … the tears of gratitude in old eyes that once more can see … the trusting handclasp of a child made whole by surgery … the brave grin of … well, you know. And you can quote me on that.’