Asimov, Isaac - Feeling of power.txt

 THE FEELING OF POWER

 by Isaac Asimov

 JEHAN SHUMAN was used to dealing with the men in authority

 on long-embattled Earth. He was only a civilian but he

 originated programming patterns that resulted in self-directing

 war computers of the highest sort. Generals consequently

 listened to him. Heads of congressional committees, too.

 There was one of each in the special lounge of New

 Pentagon. General Weider was space-burnt and had a small

 mouth puckered almost into a cipher. Congressman Brant

 was smooth-cheeked and clear-eyed. He smoked Denebian

 tobacco with the air of one whose patriotism was so notorious,

 he could be allowed such liberties.

 Shuman, tall, distinguished, and Programmer-first-class,

 faced them fearlessly.

 He said, "This, gentlemen, is Myron Aub."

 "The one with the unusual gift that you discovered quite

 by accident," said Congressman Brant placidly. "Ah." He

 inspected the little man with the egg-bald head with amiable

 curiosity.

 The little man, in return, twisted the fingers of his hands

 anxiously. He had never been near such great men before. He

 was only an aging low-grade Technician who had long ago

 failed all tests designed to smoke out the gifted ones among

 mankind and had settled into the rut of unskilled labour.

 There was just this hobby of his that the great Programmer

 had found out about and was now making such a frightening

 fuss over.

 General Weider said, "I find this atmosphere of mystery

 childish."

 "You won't in a moment," said Shuman. "This is not something

 we can leak to the firstcomer.Aub!" There was something

 imperative about his manner of biting off that

 one-syllable name, but then he was a great Programmer

 speaking to a mere Technician. "Aub! How much is nine

 times seven?"

 Aub hesitated a moment. His pale eyes glimmered with a

 feeble anxiety. "Sixty-three," he said.

 Congressman Brant lifted his eyebrows. "Is that right?"

 "Check it for yourself, Congressman."

 The Congressman took out his pocket computer, nudged

 the milled edges twice, looked at its face as it lay there in

 the palm of his hand, and put it back. He said, "Is this the

 gift you brought us here to demonstrate? An illusionist?"

 "More than that, sir. Aub has memorized a few operations

 and with them he computes on paper."

 "A paper computer?" said the general. He looked pained.

 "No, sir," said Shuman patiently. "Not a paper computer.

 Simply a sheet of paper. General, would you be so kind

 as to suggest a number?"

 "Seventeen," said the general.

 "And you, Congressman?"

 "Twenty-three."

 "Good! Aub, multiply those numbers and please show the

 gentlemen your manner of doing it."

 "Yes, Programmer," said Aub, ducking his head. He fished

 a small pad out of one shirt pocket and an artist's hairline

 stylus out of the other. His forehead corrugated as he made

 painstaking marks on the paper.

 General Weider interrupted him sharply. "Let's see that."

 Aub passed him the paper, and Weider said, "Well, it

 looks like the figure seventeen."

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 Congressman Brant nodded and said, "So it does, but I

 suppose anyone can copy figures off a computer. I think I

 could make a passable seventeen myself, even without practice."

 "If you will let Aub continue, gentlemen," said Shuman

 without heat.

 Aub continued, his hand trembling a little. Finally he said

 in a low voice, "The answer is three hundred and ninetyone."

 Congressman Brant took out his computer a second time

 and flicked it. "By Godfrey, so it is. How did he guess?"

 "No guess, Congressman," said Shuman. "He computed

 that result. He did it on this sheet of paper."

 "Humbug," said the general impatiently. "A computer is

 one thing and marks on paper are another."

 "Explain, Aub," said Shuman.

 "Yes, Programmer.Well, gentlemen, I write down seventeen

 and just underneath it, I write twenty-three. Next I say

 to myself: seven times three"

 The Congressman interrupted smoothly, "Now, Aub, the

 problem is seventeen times twenty-three."

 "Yes, I know," said the little Technician earnestly, "but I

 start by saying seven times three because that's the way it

 works. Now seven times three is twenty-one."

 "And how do you know that?" asked the Congressman.

 "I just remember it. It's always fwenty-one on the computer.

 I've checked it any number of times."

 "That doesn't mean it always will be though, does it?"

 said the Congressman.

 "Maybe not," stammered Aub. "I'm not a mathematician.

 But I always get the right answers, you see."

 "Go on."

 "Seven times three is twenty-one, so I write down twentyone.

 Then one times three is three, so I write down a

 three under the two of twenty-one."

 "Why under the two?" asked Congressman Brant at once.

 "Because" Aub looked helplessly at his superior for

 support. "It's difficult to explain."

 Shuman said, "If you will accept his work for the moment,

 we can leave the details for the mathematicians."

 Brant subsided.

 Aub said, "Three plus two makes five, you see, so the

 twenty-one becomes a fifty-one. Now you let that go for a

 while and start fresh. You multiply seven and two, that's

 fourteen, and one and two, that's two. Put them down like

 this and it adds up to thirty-four. Now if you put the

 thirty-four under the fifty-one this way and add them, you

 get three hundred and ninety-one and that's the answer."

 There was an instant's silence and then General Weider

 said, "I don't believe it. He goes through this rigmarole and

 makes up numbers and multiplies and adds them this way and

 that, but I don't believe it. It's too complicated to be anything

 but horn-swoggling."

 "Oh no, sir," said Aub in a sweat. "It only seems complicated

 because you're not used to it. Actually, the rules are

 quite simple and will work for any numbers."

 "Any numbers, eh?" said the general. "Come then." He

 took out his own computer (a severely styled Gl model)

 and struck it at random. Make a five seven three eight on

 the paper. That's five thousand seven hundred and thirtyeight."

 "Yes, sir," said Aub, taking a new sheet of paper.

 "Now," (more punching of his computer), "seven two three

 nine. Seven thousand two hundred and thirty-nine."

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 "Yes, sir."

 "And now multiply those two."

 "It will take some time," quavered Aub.

 "Take the time," said the general.

 "Go ahead, Aub," said Shuman crisply.

 Aub set to work, bending low. He took another sheet

 of paper and another. The general took out his watch finally

 and stared at it. "Are you through with your magic-making,

 Technician?"

 "I'm almost done, sir.Here it is, sir. Forty-one million,

 five hundred and thirty-seven thousand, three hundred and

 eighty-two." He showed the scrawled figures of the result.

 General Weider smiled bitterly. He pushed the multiplication

 contact on his computer and let the numbers whirl to

 a halt. And then he stared and said in a surprised squeak,

 "Great Galaxy, the fella's right."

 The President of the Terrestrial Federation had grown

 haggard in office and, in private, he allowed a look of

 settled melancholy to appear on his sensitive features. The

 Denebian war, after its early start of vast movement and

 great popularity, had trickled down into a sordid matter of

 manoeuvre and countermanceuvre, with discontent rising steadily

 on Earth. Possibly it was rising on Deneb, too.

 And now Congressman Brant, head of the important Committee

 on Military Appropriations, was cheerfully and smoothly

 spending his half-hour appointment spouting nonsense.

 "Computing without a computer," said the president impatiently,

 "is a contradiction in terms."

 "Computing," said the Congressman, "is only a system for

 handling data. A machine might do it, or the human brain

 might. Let me give you an example." And, using the new

 skills he had learned, he worked out sums and products

 until the president, despite himself, grew interested.

 "Does this always work?"

 "Every time, Mr. President. It is foolproof."

 "Is it hard to learn?"

 "It took me a week to get the real hang of it. I think you

 would do better."

 "Well," said the president, considering, "it's an interesting

 parlour game, but what is the use of it?"

 "What is the use of a newborn baby, Mr. President? At

 the moment there is no use, but don't you see that this

 points the way towards liberation from the machine. Consider,

 Mr. President," the Congressman rose and his deep voice

 automatically took on some of the cadences he used in public

 debate, "that the Denebian war is a war of computer against

 computer. Their computers forge an impenetrable field of

 counter-missiles against our missiles, and ours forge one

 against theirs. If we advance the efficiency of our computers,

 so do they theirs, and for five years a precarious and

 profitless balance has existed.

 "Now we have in our hands a method for going beyond

 the computer, leapt rogging it, passing through it. We will

 combine the mechanics of computation with human thought;

 we will have the equivalent of intelligent computers; billions

 of them. I can't prediet what the consequences will be in

 detail but they will be incalculable. And if Deneb beats us to

 the punch, they may be unimaginably catastrophic."

 The president said, troubled, "What would you have me

 do?"

 "Put the power of the administration behind the establishment

 of a secret project on human computation. Call it

 Project Number, if you like. I can vouch for my committee,

 but I will need the administration behind me."

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 "But how far can human computation go?"

 "There is no limit. According to Programmer Shuman, who

 first introduced me to this discovery"

 "I've heard of Shuman, of course."

 "Yes. Well, Dr. Shuman tells me that in theory there is

 nothing the computer can do that the human mind cannot

 do. The computer merely takes a finite amount of data and

 performs a finite number of operations upon them. The human

 mind can duplicate the process."

 The president considered that. He said, "If Shuman says

 this, I am inclined to believe himin theory. But, in practice,

 how can anyone know how a computer works?"

 Brant laughed genially. "Well, Mr. President, I asked the

 same question. It seems that at one time computers were designed

 directly by human beings. Those were simple computers,

 of course, this being before the time of the rational use of

 computers to design more advanced computers had been established."

 "Yes, yes. Go on."

 "Technican Aub apparently had, as his hobby, the reconstruction

 of some of these ancient devices and in so doing he

 studied the details of their workings and found he could imitate

 them. The multiplication I just performed for you is

 an imitation of the workings of a computer."

 "Amazing!"

 The Congressman coughed gently, "If I may make another

 point, Mr. President The further we can develop this

 thing, the more we can divert our Federal effort from computer

 production and computer maintenance. As the human

 brain takes over, more of our energy can be directed into

 peacetime pursuits and the impingement of war on the ordinary

 man will be less. This will be more advantageous for

 the party in power, of course."

 "Ah," said the president, "I see your point. Well, sit down,

 Congressman, sit down. I want some time to think about

 this. But meanwhile, show me that multiplication trick

 again. Let's see if I can't catch the point of it."

 Programmer Shuman did not try to hurry matters. Loesser

 was conservative, very conservative and liked to deal with

 computers as his father and grandfather had. Still, he controlled

 the West European computer combine, and if he could

 be persuaded to join Project Number in full enthusiasm, a

 great deal would be accomplished.

 But Loesser was holding back. He said, "I'm not sure I

 like the idea of relaxing our hold on computers. The human

 mind is a capricious thing. The computer will give the same

 answer to the same problem each time. What guarantee

 have we that the human mind will do the same?"

 "The human mind, Computer Loesser, only manipulates

 facts. It doesn't matter whether the human mind or a machine

 does it. They are just tools."

 "Yes, yes. I've gone over your ingenious demonstration

 that the mind can duplicate the computer, but it seems to me

 a little in the air. I'll grant the theory but what reason have

 we for thinking that theory can be converted to practice?"

 "I think we have reason, sir. After all, computers have

 not always existed. The cave men with their triremes, stone

 axes, and railroads had no computers."

 "And possibly they did not compute."

 "You know better than that. Even the building of a railroad

 or a ziggurat called for some computing, and that must

 have been without computers as we know them."

 "Do you suggest they computed in the fashion you demonstrate?"

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 "Probably not. After all, this methodwe call it 'graphitics,'

 by the way, from the old European word 'grapho'

 meaning 'to write'is developed from the computers themselves

 so it cannot have antedated them. Still, the cave men

 must have had some method, eh?"

 "Lost arts! If you're going to talk about lost arts"

 "No, no. I'm not a lost art enthusiast, though I don't say

 there may not be some. After all, man was eating grain before

 hydroponics, and if the primitives ate grain, they must

 have grown it in soil. What else could they have done?"

 "I don't know, but I'll believe in soil-growing when I see

 someone grow grain in soil. And I'll believe in making fire

 by rubbing two pieces of flint together when I see that, too."

 Shuman grew placative. "Well, let's stick to graphitics. It's

 just part of the process of etherealization. Transportation by

 means of bulky contrivances is giving way to direct mass

 transference. Communications devices become less massive

 and more efficient constantly. For that matter, compare your

 pocket computer with the massive jobs of a thousand years

 ago. Why not, then, the last step of doing away with computers

 altogether? Come, sir. Project Number is a going concern;

 progress is already headlong. But we want your help.

 If patriotism doesn't move you, consider the intellectual adventure

 involved."

 Loesser said sceptically, "What progress? What can you do

 beyond multiplication? Can you integrate a transcendental

 function?"

 "In time, sir. In time. In the last month I have learned

 to handle division. I can determine, and correctly, integral

 quotients and decimal quotients."

 "Decimal quotients? To how many places?"

 Programmer Shuman tried to keep his tone casual. "Any

 number!"

 Loesser's lower jaw dropped. "Without a computer?"

 "Set me a problem."

 "Divide twenty-seven by thirteen. Take it to six places."

 Five minutes later, Shuman said, "Two point oh seven six

 nine two three."

 Loesser checked it. "Well, now, that's amazing. Mulitiplication

 didn't impress me too much because it involved integers

 after all, and I thought trick manipulation might do

 it. But decimals"

 "And that is not all. There is a new development that is,

 so far, top secret and which strictly speaking, I ought not to

 mention. Stillwe may have made a breakthrough on the

 square root front."

 "Square roots?"

 "It involves some tricky points and we haven't licked the

 bugs yet, but Technician Aub, the man who invented the

 science and who has an amazing intuition in connection

 with it, maintains he has the problem almost solved. And he

 is only a Technician. A man like yourself, a trained and talented

 mathematician, ought to have no difficulty."

 "Square roots," muttered Loesser, attracted.

 "Cube roots, too. Are you with us?"

 Loesser's hand thrust out suddenly. "Count me in."

 General Weider stumped his way back and forth at the

 head of the room and addressed his listeners after the fashion

 of a savage teacher facing a group of recalcitrant students. It

 made no difference to the general that they were the civilian

 scientists heading Project Number. The general was the overall

 head, and he so considered himself at every waking moment.

 He said, "Now square roots are all fine. I can't do them

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 myself and I don't understand the methods, but they're fine.

 Still, the Project will not be sidetracked into what some

 of you call the fundamentals. You can play with graphitics

 any way you want to after the war is over, but right now we

 have specific and very practical problems to solve."

 In a far corner. Technician Aub listened with painful attention.

 He was no longer a Technician, of course, having

 been relieved of his duties and assigned to the project, with

 a fine-sounding title and good pay. But, of course, the social

 distinction remained and the highly placed scientific leaders

 could never bring themselves to admit him to their ranks

 on a footing of equality. Nor, to do Aub justice, did he,

 himself, wish it. He was as uncomfortable with them as they

 with him.

 The general was saying, "Our goal is a simple one, gentlemen:

 the replacement of the computer. A ship that can

 navigate space without a computer on board can be constructed

 in one fifth the time and at one tenth the expense

 of a computer-laden ship. We could build fleets five times,

 ten times, as great as Deneb could if we could but eliminate

 the computer.

 "And I see something even beyond this. It may be fantastic

 now, a mere dream; but in the future I see the manned

 missile!"

 There was an instant murmur from the audience.

 The general drove on. "At the present time, our chief bottleneck

 is the fact that missiles are limited in intelligence.

 The computer controlling them can only be so large, and for

 that reason they can meet the changing nature of antimissile

 defences in an unsatisfactory way. Few missiles, if

 any, accomplish their goal and missle warfare is coming to

 a dead end; for the enemy, fortunately, as well as for

 ourselves.

 "On the other hand, a missile with a man or two within,

 controlling flight by graphitics, would be lighter, more mobile,

 more intelligent. It would give us a lead that might

 well mean the margin of victory. Besides which, gentlemen,

 the exigencies of war compel us to remember one thing. A

 man is much more dispensable than a computer. Manned

 missiles could be launched in numbers and under circumstances

 that no good general would care to undertake as far

 as computer-directed missiles are concerned"

 He said much more but Technician Aub did not wait.

 Technician Aub, in the privacy of his quarters, laboured

 long over the note he was leaving behind. It read finally

 as follows:

 "When I began the study of what is now called graphitics,

 it was no more than a hobby. I saw no more in it than an

 interesting amusement, an exercise of mind.

 "When Project Number began, I thought that others were

 wiser than 1; that graphitics might be put to practical use

 as a benefit to mankind, to aid in the production of really

 practical mass-transference devices perhaps. But now I see

 it to be used only for death and destruction.

 "I cannot face the responsibility involved in having invented

 graphitics."

 He then deliberately turned the focus of a prot,ein-depolarizer

 on himself and fell instantly and painlessly dead.

 They stood over the grave of the little Technician while

 tribute was paid to the greatness of his discovery.

 Programmer Shuman bowed his head along with the rest

 of them, but remained unmoved. The Technician had done

 his share and was no longer needed, after all. He might

 have started graphitics, but now that it had started, it would

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 carry on by itself overwhelmingly, triumphantly, until manned

 missiles were possible, with who knew what else.

 Nine times seven, thought Shuman with deep satisfaction,

 is sixty-three, and I don't need a computer to tell me so.

 The computer is in my own head.

 And it was amazing the feeling of power that gave him.

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