He shrugged. "But, they’re the people with the authority and the money that’s paying for this project—so Jack and I kept puttering, because those were the orders. Knowing that we had the perfect answer all the time, and that nobody would accept it, was what finally got Jack."
"What about you?" I asked.
He shrugged again. "I’m just waiting,"he said. "Eventually they’ll either accept you or not. They’ll either commend me or fire me, and they might or might not decide it’s all my fault if they’re not happy. But there’s nothing I can do about it, is there? So, I’m waiting.
"Meanwhile, there’s the CIC. Actually, that’s just a handy label. It happens to be the initials of one of the undercover agencies out of the whole group that infests this place. Every armed service has its own, and I imagine the government has its boys kicking around, too. We just picked one label to cover them all—it’s simpler."
"Russell said they were always watching. But why are they watching each other, too? Why should one armed service be afraid that another’s going to get an advantage over it?"
Heywood’s mouth moved into a half-amused grin. "That’s what is known as human psychology, Pimmy. It’ll help you to understand it, but if you can’t, why, just be glad you haven’t got it."
"Ligget’s CIC, you know," I said. "Russell accused him of it. He denied it, but if he isn’t actually in the CIC, then he’s in something like it."
Heywood nodded sourly. "I know. I wouldn’t mind if he had brains enough, in addition, to know one end of a circuit from the other."
He slapped my side again. "Pimmy, boy," he said. "We’re going to have a lot of fun around here in the next few weeks. Yes, sir, a lot of fun."
August 26, 1974
Ligget was fooling around with me again. He’s all right when Heywood’s in the lab with me, but when he’s alone, he keeps running me through unauthorized tests. What he’s doing, actually, is to repeat all the tests Heywood and Russell ran, just to make sure. As long as he doesn’t cut out my individuality, I can remember it all, and I guess there was nothing different about the results on any of the tests, because I can tell from his face that he’s not finding what he wants.
Well, I hope he tells his bosses that Heywood and Russell were right. Maybe they’ll stop this fooling.
Ligget’s pretty dumb. After every test, he looks me in the eye and tells me to forget the whole thing. What does he think I am—Trilby?
And I don’t understand some of the test performances at all. There is something wrong with Ligget.
September 2, 1974
I hadn’t realized, until now, that Heywood and Russell hadn’t told anyone what they thought about this whole project, but, reviewing that tape on war and soldiering, and the way the military mind operates, I can see where nobody would have accepted their explanations.
Ligget caught on to the whole thing today. Heywood came in with a new series of test charts, Ligget took one look at them, and threw them on the table. He sneered at Heywood and said, "Who do you think you’re kidding?"
Heywood looked annoyed and said, "All right, what’s eating you?"
Ligget’s face got this hidden crafty look on it. "How long did you think you could keep this up, Heywood? This test is no different from the ones you were running three weeks ago. There hasn’t been any progress since then, and there’s been no attempt to make any. What’s your explanation?"
"Uh-huh." Heywood didn’t look particularly worried. "I was wondering if you were ever going to stumble across it."
Ligget looked mad. "That attitude won’t do you any good. Now, come on, quit stalling. Why were you and Russell sabotaging the project?"
"Oh, stop being such a pompous lamebrain, will you?" Heywood said disgustedly. "Russell and I weren’t doing any sabotaging. We’ve been following our orders to the last letter. We built the prototype, and we’ve been testing the various modifications ever since. Anything wrong with that?"
"You’ve made absolutely no attempt to improve the various modifications. There hasn’t been an ounce of progress in this project for the last twenty days.
"Now, look, Heywood—" Ligget’s voice became wheedling "—I can understand that you might have what you’d consider a good reason for all this. What is it—political, or something? Maybe it’s your conscience. Don’t you want to work on something that’s eventually going to be applied to war? I wish you’d tell me about it. If I could understand your reasons, it would be that much easier for you. Maybe it’s too tough a problem. Is that it, Heywood?"
Heywood’s face got red. "No, it’s not. If you think—" He stopped, dug his fingers at the top of the table, and got control of himself again.
"No," he said in a quieter, but just as deadly, voice. "I’m as anxious to produce an artificial soldier as anybody else. And I’m not too stupid for the job, either. If you had any brains, you’d see that I already have."
That hit Ligget between the eyes. "You have? Where is it, and why haven’t you reported your success? What is this thing?" He pointed at me. "Some kind of a decoy?"
Heywood grimaced. "No, you double-dyed jackass, that’s your soldier."
"What?"
"Sure. Strip those fifteen pounds of cutoffs out of him, redesign his case for whatever kind of ground he’s supposed to operate on, feed him the proper tapes, and that’s it. The perfect soldier—as smart as any human ever produced, and a hundred times the training and toughness, overnight. Run them out by the thousands. Print your circuits, bed your transistors in silicone rubber, and pour the whole brew into his case. Production difficulties? Watchmaking’s harder."
"No!" Ligget’s eyes gleamed. "And I worked on this with you! Why haven’t you reported this!" he repeated.
Heywood looked at him pityingly. "Haven’t you got it through your head? Pimmy’s the perfect soldier, all of him, with all his abilities. That includes individuality, curiosity, judgment—and intelligence. Cut one part of that, and he’s no good. You’ve got to take the whole cake, or none at all. One way you starve—and the other way you choke."
Ligget had gone white. "You mean, we’ve got to take the superman—or we don’t have anything."
"Yes, you fumbling jerk!"
Ligget looked thoughtful. He seemed to forget Heywood and me as he stared down at his shoetops. "They won’t go for it," he muttered. "Suppose they decide they’re better fit to run the world than we are?"
"That’s the trouble," Heywood said. "They are. They’ve got everything a human being has, plus incredible toughness and the ability to learn instantaneously. You know what Pimmy did? The day he was assembled, he learned to read and write, after a fashion. How? By listening to me read a paragraph out of a report, recording the sounds, and looking at the report afterwards. He matched the sounds to the letters, recalled what sort of action on Russell’s and my part the paragraph had elicited, and sat down behind a typewriter. That’s all."
"They’d junk the whole project before they let something like that run around loose!" The crafty look was hovering at the edges of Ligget’s mask again. "All right, so you’ve got an answer, but it’s not an acceptable one. But why haven’t you pushed any of the other lines of investigation?"