"Of course I can," Somers objected, feeling very light-headed and
unreal. "I can pilot any course you lay down. That's my only real
responsibility. Plot us a course to Mars!"
"Sure!" Rajcik said, laughing. "I can! I will! Engineer, I'm going to
need plenty of fuel for this course--about ten tons! See that I get it!"
"Right you are," said Watkins. "Captain, I'd like to put in a
requisition for ten tons of fuel."
"Requisition granted," Somers said. "All right, gentlemen,
responsibility is inevitably circular. Let's get a grip on ourselves.
Mr. Rajcik, suppose you radio Mars."
When contact had been established, Somers took the microphone and stated
their situation. The company official at the other end seemed to have
trouble grasping it.
"But can't you turn the ship?" he asked bewilderedly. "Any kind of an
orbit--"
"No. I've just explained that."
"Then what do you propose to do, Captain?"
"That's exactly what I'm asking you."
There was a babble of voices from the loudspeaker, punctuated by bursts
of static. The lights flickered and reception began to fade. Rajcik,
working frantically, managed to re-establish the contact.
"Captain," the official on Mars said, "we can't think of a thing. If you
could swing into any sort of an orbit--"
"I can't!"
"Under the circumstances, you have the right to try anything at all.
Anything, Captain!"
Somers groaned. "Listen, I can think of just one thing. We could bail
out in spacesuits as near Mars as possible. Link ourselves together,
take the portable transmitter. It wouldn't give much of a signal, but
you'd know our approximate position. Everything would have to be figured
pretty closely--those suits just carry twelve hours' air--but it's a
chance."
* * * * *
There was a confusion of voices from the other end. Then the official
said, "I'm sorry, Captain."
"What? I'm telling you it's our one chance!"
"Captain, the only ship on Mars now is the _Diana_. Her engines are
being overhauled."
"How long before she can be spaceborne?"
"Three weeks, at least. And a ship from Earth would take too long.
Captain, I wish we could think of something. About the only thing we can
suggest--"
The reception suddenly failed again.
Rajcik cursed frustratedly as he worked over the radio. Watkins gnawed
at his mustache. Somers glanced out a porthole and looked hurriedly
away, for the stars, their destination, were impossibly distant.
They heard static again, faintly now.
"I can't get much more," Rajcik said. "This damned reception.... What
could they have been suggesting?"
"Whatever it was," said Watkins, "they didn't think it would work."
"What the hell does that matter?" Rajcik asked, annoyed. "It'd give us
something to do."
They heard the official's voice, a whisper across space.
"Can you hear ... Suggest ..."
At full amplification, the voice faded, then returned. "Can only suggest
... most unlikely ... but try ... calculator ... try ..."
[Illustration]
The voice was gone. And then even the static was gone.
"That does it," Rajcik said. "The calculator? Did he mean the Fahrensen
Computer in our hold?"
"I see what he meant," said Captain Somers. "The Fahrensen is a very
advanced job. No one knows the limits of its potential. He suggests we
present our problem to it."
"That's ridiculous," Watkins snorted. "This problem has no solution."
"It doesn't seem to," Somers agreed. "But the big computers have solved
other apparently impossible problems. We can't lose anything by trying."
"No," said Rajcik, "as long as we don't pin any hopes on it."
"That's right. We don't dare hope. Mr. Watkins, I believe this is your
department."
"Oh, what's the use?" Watkins asked. "You say don't hope--but both of
you are hoping anyhow! You think the big electronic god is going to save
your lives. Well, it's not!"
"We have to try," Somers told him.
"We don't! I wouldn't give it the satisfaction of turning us down!"
* * * * *
They stared at him in vacant astonishment.
"Now you're implying that machines think," said Rajcik.
"Of course I am," Watkins said. "Because they do! No, I'm not out of my
head. Any engineer will tell you that a complex machine has a
personality all its own. Do you know what that personality is like?
Cold, withdrawn, uncaring, unfeeling. A machine's only purpose is to
frustrate desire and produce two problems for every one it solves. And
do you know why a machine feels this way?"
"You're hysterical," Somers told him.
"I am not. A machine feels this way because it _knows_ it is an
unnatural creation in nature's domain. Therefore it wishes to reach
entropy and cease--a mechanical death wish."
"I've never heard such gibberish in my life," Somers said. "Are you
going to hook up that computer?"
"Of course. I'm a human. I keep trying. I just wanted you to understand
_fully_ that there is no hope." He went to the cargo hold.
After he had gone, Rajcik grinned and shook his head. "We'd better watch
him."
"He'll be all right," Somers said.
"Maybe, maybe not." Rajcik pursed his lips thoughtfully. "He's blaming
the situation on a machine personality now, trying to absolve himself of
guilt. And it _is_ his fault that we're in this spot. An engineer is
responsible for all equipment."
"I don't believe you can put the blame on him so dogmatically," Somers
replied.
"Sure I can," Rajcik said. "I personally don't care, though. This is as
good a way to die as any other and better than most."
Captain Somers wiped perspiration from his face. Again the notion came
to him that the problem--the _real_ problem--was to find a way out of
this hot, smelly, motionless little box.
Rajcik said, "Death in space is an appealing idea, in certain ways.
Imagine an entire spaceship for your tomb! And you have a variety of
ways of actually dying. Thirst and starvation I rule out as
unimaginative. But there are possibilities in heat, cold, implosion,
explosion--"
"This is pretty morbid," Somers said.
* * * * *
"I'm a pretty morbid fellow," Rajcik said carelessly. "But at least I'm
not blaming inanimate objects, the way Watkins is. Or permitting myself
the luxury of shock, like you." He studied Somers' face. "This is your
first real emergency, isn't it, Captain?"
"I suppose so," Somers answered vaguely.
"And you're responding to it like a stunned ox," Rajcik said. "Wake up,
Captain! If you can't live with joy, at least try to extract some
pleasure from your dying."
"Shut up," Somers said, with no heat. "Why don't you read a book or
something?"
"I've read all the books on board. I have nothing to distract me except
an analysis of your character."
Watkins returned to the cabin. "Well, I've activated your big electronic
god. Would anyone care to make a burned offering in front of it?"
"Have you given it the problem?"
"Not yet. I decided to confer with the high priest. What shall I request
of the demon, sir?"
"Give it all the data you can," Somers said. "Fuel, oxygen, water,
food--that sort of thing. Then tell it we want to return to Earth.
Alive," he added.
"It'll love that," Watkins said. "It'll get such pleasure out of
rejecting our problem as unsolvable. Or better yet--insufficient data.
In that way, it can hint that a solution is possible, but just outside
our reach. It can keep us hoping."
Somers and Rajcik followed him to the cargo hold. The computer,
activated now, hummed softly. Lights flashed swiftly over its panels,
blue and white and red.
Watkins punched buttons and turned dials for fifteen minutes, then moved
back.
"Watch for the red light on top," he said. "That means the problem is
rejected."
"Don't say it," Rajcik warned quickly.