"The solution is simple," he said. "We're in a trap so strong that the
aliens didn't establish any means to control our actions. When men put
a lion in a strong cage, they don't worry about controlling the lion
because the lion can't get out. We're in the same basic situation."
"So what?" Verana queried in a sarcastic tone.
"The aliens want us transported to their planet so they can examine and
question us. Right?"
"Right."
"Ed, remember that remark the machine made last night?"
"What remark?"
"It said, '_My_ masters will be displeased with _me_ if you arrive in a
damaged condition.' What does that indicate to you?"
* * * * *
I assumed a baffled expression. I didn't have the slightest idea of
what he was driving at and I told him so.
"Ed," he said, "if you could build an electronic brain capable of
making decisions, how would you build it?"
"Hell, I don't know," I confessed.
"Well, if I could build an electronic brain like the one running this
ship, I'd build it with a _conscience_ so it'd do its best at all
times."
"Machines always do their best," I argued. "Come on, untie us. I'm
getting a crick in my back!" I didn't like the idea of being slugged
while asleep. If Kane had been sober and if his wife hadn't been
present, I would have let him know exactly what I thought of him.
"_Our_ machines always do their best," he argued, "because we punch
buttons and they respond in predetermined patterns. But the electronic
brain in this ship isn't automatic. It makes decisions and I'll bet it
even has to decide how much energy and time to put into each process!"
"So what?"
He shrugged muscular shoulders. "So this ship is operated by a
thinking, conscientious machine. It's the first time I've encountered
such a machine, but I think I know what will happen. I spent hours last
night figuring--"
"What are you talking about?" I interrupted. "Are you so drunk that you
don't know--"
"I'll show you, Ed."
He walked around the table and stood behind my chair. I felt his thick
fingers around my throat and smelled the alcohol on his breath.
"Can you see me, machine?" he asked the empty air.
"Yes," the electronic brain replied.
"Watch!"
Kane tightened his fingers around my throat.
Verana and Marie screamed shrilly.
My head seemed to swell like a balloon; my throat gurgled painfully.
"Please stop," the machine pleaded.
"What will your masters think of you if I kill all of us? You'll return
to them with a cargo of dead people!"
* * * * *
The machine didn't answer. I waited for the electronic brain to
interfere and, with a cold knot in my stomach, realized the machine had
said it had no way to control our actions!
"Your purpose won't be fulfilled, will it?" Kane demanded. "Not if you
return with dead specimens!"
"No," the machine admitted.
"If you don't take us back to the Moon," Kane threatened, "I'll kill
_all of us_!"
The alien electronic brain was silent.
By this time, I couldn't see and Kane's voice was a hollow, faraway
thing that rang in my ears. I tugged at my bindings, but they only
tightened as I struggled.
"If you take us back to the Moon, your masters will never know you
failed in your mission. They won't know you failed because you won't
bring them proof of your failure."
My fading consciousness tried to envision the alien mechanical brain as
it struggled with the problem.
"Look at it this way," Kane persisted. "If you carry our corpses to
your masters, all your efforts will have been useless. If you return us
to the Moon alive, you'll still have a chance to carry out your mission
later."
A long silence followed. Verana and Marie screamed at Kane to let go.
A soft darkness seemed to fill the room, blurring everything, drowning
even their shrieks in strangling blackness.
"You win," the machine conceded. "I'll return the ship to the Moon."
Kane released his grip on my throat.
"See?" he asked. "Didn't I tell you every problem has a solution?"