"It was on the basis of that material," Breckenridge went on, "that
I suggested this particular line of investigation. It is reasonably
certain that in copying off the electromagnetic pattern of a
specific human mind into a specific positronic brain, a perfectly
exact duplicate cannot be made. For one thing, the most complicated
positronic brain small enough to fit into a human-sized skull is
hundreds of times less complex than the human brain. It can't pick
up all the overtones, therefore, and there must be some way to take
advantage of that fact."
Laszlo looked impressed despite himself and Lynn smiled grimly. It was
easy to resent Breckenridge and the coming intrusion of several hundred
scientists of non-robotics specialties, but the problem itself was an
intriguing one. There was that consolation, at least.
* * * * *
It came to him quietly.
Lynn found he had nothing to do but sit in his office alone, with an
executive position that had grown merely titular. Perhaps that helped.
It gave him time to think, to picture the creative scientists of half
the world converging on Cheyenne.
It was Breckenridge who, with cool efficiency, was handling the details
of preparation. There had been a kind of confidence in the way he said,
"Let's get together and we'll lick Them."
Let's get together.
It came to Lynn so quietly that anyone watching Lynn at that moment
might have seen his eyes blink slowly twice--but surely nothing more.
He did what he had to do with a whirling detachment that kept him calm
when he felt that, by all rights, he ought to be going mad.
He sought out Breckenridge in the other's improvised quarters.