Making sure no murder was done.
New data flashed along the watchbird network. Unmonitored, independent,
the thousands of watchbirds received and acted upon it.
_The breaking, mangling or otherwise stopping the functions of a living
organism by a living organism. New acts to stop._
"Damn you, git going!" Farmer Ollister shouted, and raised his whip
again. The horse balked, and the wagon rattled and shook as he edged
sideways.
"You lousy hunk of pigmeal, git going!" the farmer yelled and he raised
the whip again.
It never fell. An alert watchbird, sensing violence, had knocked him out
of his seat.
A living organism? What is a living organism? The watchbirds extended
their definitions as they became aware of more facts. And, of course,
this gave them more work.
The deer was just visible at the edge of the woods. The hunter raised
his rifle, and took careful aim.
He didn't have time to shoot.
* * * * *
With his free hand, Gelsen mopped perspiration from his face. "All
right," he said into the telephone. He listened to the stream of
vituperation from the other end, then placed the receiver gently in its
cradle.
"What was that one?" Macintyre asked. He was unshaven, tie loose, shirt
unbuttoned.
"Another fisherman," Gelsen said. "It seems the watchbirds won't let
him fish even though his family is starving. What are we going to do
about it, he wants to know."
"How many hundred is that?"
"I don't know. I haven't opened the mail."
"Well, I figured out where the trouble is," Macintyre said gloomily,
with the air of a man who knows just how he blew up the Earth--after it
was too late.
"Let's hear it."
"Everybody took it for granted that we wanted all murder stopped. We
figured the watchbirds would think as we do. We ought to have qualified
the conditions."
"I've got an idea," Gelsen said, "that we'd have to know just why and
what murder is, before we could qualify the conditions properly. And if
we knew that, we wouldn't need the watchbirds."
"Oh, I don't know about that. They just have to be told that some things
which look like murder are not murder."
"But why should they stop fisherman?" Gelsen asked.
"Why shouldn't they? Fish and animals are living organisms. We just
don't think that killing them is murder."
The telephone rang. Gelsen glared at it and punched the intercom. "I
told you no more calls, no matter what."
"This is from Washington," his secretary said. "I thought you'd--"
"Sorry." Gelsen picked up the telephone. "Yes. Certainly is a mess ...
Have they? All right, I certainly will." He put down the telephone.
"Short and sweet," he told Macintyre. "We're to shut down temporarily."
"That won't be so easy," Macintyre said. "The watchbirds operate
independent of any central control, you know. They come back once a week
for a repair checkup. We'll have to turn them off then, one by one."
"Well, let's get to it. Monroe over on the Coast has shut down about a
quarter of his birds."
"I think I can dope out a restricting circuit," Macintyre said.
"Fine," Gelsen replied bitterly. "You make me very happy."
* * * * *
The watchbirds were learning rapidly, expanding and adding to their
knowledge. Loosely defined abstractions were extended, acted upon and
re-extended.
To stop murder ...
Metal and electrons reason well, but not in a human fashion.
_A_ living organism? _Any_ living organism!
The watchbirds set themselves the task of protecting all living things.
The fly buzzed around the room, lighting on a table top, pausing a
moment, then darting to a window sill.
The old man stalked it, a rolled newspaper in his hand.
Murderer!
The watchbirds swept down and saved the fly in the nick of time.
The old man writhed on the floor a minute and then was silent. He had
been given only a mild shock, but it had been enough for his fluttery,
cranky heart.
His victim had been saved, though, and this was the important thing.
Save the victim and give the aggressor his just desserts.
* * * * *