Anthony Bing had worked at Omnitest
Inc. for years. The entire company was engaged in a huge test program of the
future interstellar spaceship IS–1.
Every morning, Bing typed his
personal code into the computer and then his mark TP–7/AB would appear
on the screen. Decoded, that meant the Test Program on the seventh working
level in which he, Anthony Bing, had been working. The seventh level was the
most populated of all the levels and it was also the lowest rank of the
Omnitest Inc. hierarchy; its employees didn't have any subordinates.
Bing didn't mind that he could
communicate only with his fellow-workers on the seventh level. The only person
on the sixth level he knew was his direct superior, Norman Roth. Their
relationship was limited to the exchange of Roth's directives marked with TP–6/NR
and Bing's reports submitted through the computer. At the end of each month,
the management published a priority list of the personal productivity results
for the seventh level, and Bing's name was always in the upper third of that
list. Usually he was better than his pal Doug Stevens, who worked in the other
department on the seventh level under his direct superior, Troy Adams.
“Listen, Doug” Bing remarked during
their lunch break, “you know I’m adapted well to my work. Yet, during the last
few weeks, I’ve noticed the input data from the sixth level has grown increasingly
uncertain.”
“Tell me about it,” Doug concurred.
“Owing to that, I had to repeat my reckoning several times so I’ve had to work
overtime lately.”
Bing nodded. “I’m
also so pressed for time that I can’t manage it alone. I urgently need some
help. The only catch is, I don’t know how to get it.”
Doug shrugged. “I’ve talked with some
other colleagues on the seventh level; they’re in a similar situation. A week
ago, I notified Troy Adams in writing that I was desperately overburdened and
asked him to assign me a new co-worker.”
“And?”
“Adams never even replied.”
“I see,” Bing said. “Now I’m
convinced there is no chance I’ll gain any help from Norman Roth.”
“The only way,” Doug said, “is that
somehow we must help ourselves.”
“Yes–-but how?”
“I don’t know,”
Doug said. “Not yet.”
***
Bing pondered the few possibilities
of finding some help. Finally, he concluded that the only possible solution would
be to try to create a new, more efficient computer program.
He knew that it would be an
enormously difficult task. The new program had to be completely autonomous, to
be able to learn and eradicate his own mistakes. Besides, it should also take
the initiative and suggest to Bing its own ideas. He needed an electronically
creative co-operator. And the most important thing–-not a living soul must know
about it.
Bing was familiar enough with all the
accessible products of artificial intelligence, so he could provide some
indispensable hardware components. Then he addressed the software creation of
his future program, which he named Subbing. He threw himself into the
innovative work, new for him, with enormous enthusiasm.
Lately, Bing's orderly work had often
been interrupted because of the lack of input data from the sixth level. So he
had time to work on Subbing, not only after working hours, but also during the
many idle intervals of the working day.
At first, Bing considered the
possibility of confiding in Doug, but after a while, he changed his mind,
because Doug lately had been unusually absent-minded and rather reticent toward
him. Well, if that was how Doug wanted it, that suited him.
Bing’s ambitious task proved much
harder than he had expected. He had to improve his own knowledge, and he spent
an enormous amount of extra time on it. After several weeks, he finally
succeeded in making Subbing's speed of solving routine problems nearly as good
as his own. After that, Bing began with what in computer circles is usually
called the cosmetic.
He wasn’t satisfied just with
Subbing's simple two-dimensional display on screen, so he spent much time in
creating Subbing as a technically faultless, three-dimensional hologram. Bing
was vain enough to design Subbing's appearance as a mirror image of himself,
and Subbing's voice was also a perfect copy of his own.
Besides that, Bing incorporated into
his new assistant some basic psychological items. During this time, Subbing had
learnt to express itself in several different ways and to display some simple
pseudo-emotions like prudence, eagerness, composure and excitement. Bing
thought he'd be able to work with Subbing almost as if it were a real person.
***
Bing’s regular work slowed down
during this time, clogged at the source on the seventh level. Each morning,
after he put in his appearance, he could do hardly anything at all. All that
time, Bing was careful enough. The entire data and the formative components of
Subbing were stored on his private disks, which he always kept safely locked.
Every morning he sent them on to the main computer disk again. The hours passed
by as quickly as minutes; every evening when he performed the command ‘End
task’ and Subbing's hologram slowly dissolved, Bing was surprised by how
quickly the day had passed.
After an extensive test, Bing decided
Subbing was qualified enough to help him with his daily tasks. It was high
time, because the logjam on the sixth level had ended abruptly, and Bing was so
flooded with urgent demands from his chief, that he would have been lost
without Subbing's help. None of his colleagues were able to follow the new,
crazy speed demanded from the sixth level.
No one–-except Doug Stevens.
Doug was the only person who hadn't
ever been behind in his deadlines. That was something Bing couldn't grasp;
although he laid half his tasks on Subbing, he himself had to work under high
pressure. His secret assistant now and then still asked him for some
explanation, but these inquiries were more and more rare.
During this time, the greatest of
Bing's concerns was how to explain his almost unbelievable productivity. He
tried to complain to the others about inhuman drudgery, and once or twice he
posted already-finished tests purposely delayed. He didn't want to arouse too
much attention from his superiors.
Despite these cautious measures, Bing
found his name almost at the top of the monthly productivity list on the
seventh level. Above him was only Doug Stevens, and nobody else. Bing knew that
his position near the top of that list was even worse than if he had been at
the bottom. He knew he'd aroused the attention of his chief, Norman Roth. And
that was more than unpleasant; it was dangerous.
It was possible for Roth to order
some control or even an investigation of Bing's working room, and so his
illegal assistant might be discovered.
Bing decided to slacken his efforts
radically; right away he’d leave most of his tasks to Subbing. Only now and
then, he'd look at Subbing's work. So he’d manage, with time, to return to the
average majority.
***
One morning, Bing noticed the call
signal of Doug Stevens. Without hesitation, Bing removed Subbing from the main
disk and then dictated into the microphone the secret cipher to set up the secure
connection with Doug.
“You've made an assistant that's
helping you,” said Doug, without any introduction. It wasn't a question but a
statement.
“What are you talking about?” Bing's
voice was unsure. “I haven't an idea what. . .”
“Stop pretending to be innocent,
pal,” Doug interrupted him. “It's me, remember? We aren't supposed to tell fibs
to each other, are we? There is not a living soul who can carry out as much
work as you can.”
“Except you,” Bing counter-attacked.
“You produce even more tests than I do, but I don't accuse you of having an
assistant.”
“Of course I have an assistant,”
affirmed Doug dryly. “I made it a long time ago, I suppose even before you
finished yours. And because I was ahead of you, my assistant was more improved
than yours, so he's been producing a bit more than yours. But now I'm not so
sure it was wise that we made them at all.”
“Why not?” objected Bing, who
realized it would be foolish to deny Subbing's existence. “It’d be enough if we
slow down our working speed a little more. I think both of us have been
overdoing it lately and now we've simply got to stop it.”
“That's not the point,” Doug shook
his head. “That damned Adams is the least of my worries; I'm worried about Double
Doug. He is the one who's exaggerating in every way.”
“Double Doug? Is that the name you've
given to your assistant?”
“Yes.” Doug’s image betrayed extreme
depression. “If we suppose he is still my assistant–-but I'm not so sure about
that. At the moment I feel like I have become his assistant.”
Bing was astonished. “I don't follow
you. What are you trying to say?”
Doug's image stared morosely at Bing.
“That's a long story, pal. If you don't understand me, that means your–-er,
Doublebing–-has not been provoking any serious trouble for you, yet.”
Doug accented his last word. “All that I can tell you for now is a warning.
You'd better watch him, carefully. Don't give him too much freedom.”
Before Bing had time to ask him
anything, his interlocutor had interrupted the connection.
***
During the following few weeks, Subbing rapidly completed his own
abilities, not only in quantity. Its–-his?-–main improvement showed especially
in the qualitative field. Bing was forced to admit that Subbing had been
surpassing him in the speed of data processing, in the ability of logical
consideration among different possibilities, and as a creative organizer.
But worst of all was Subbing's increasing self-assertion. Subbing
gradually began to decide upon important matters that had been in Bing's
competence. Subbing simply ignored Bing's scolding and his behavior was
becoming increasingly arrogant, even disrespectful, to Bing. For the present,
Subbing hadn't rejected any of Bing's direct orders, but his hesitation in such
cases was obvious.
One morning, Bing decided to talk to
Doug about the problem.
He dictated the proper cipher into
the microphone but to his surprise, nothing happened. The screen just flickered
without a picture or sound. Then Bing called the official mark of his friend TP–7/DS
and on the screen appeared a notice: ‘Wrong mark or mark doesn't exist.’
Bing repeated his call and then he demanded an alphabetical payroll of all the
employees on the seventh level. There was no mark TP–7/DS among them
anymore. Finally, Bing called some other acquaintances of his, but not one of
them seemed to remember Doug Stevens or the existence of his mark.
Bing sat still for a long time,
absorbed in deep thought, but he couldn't find any logical explanation for the
riddle. But he was sure that something had gone wrong. Very wrong. Either he, Anthony
Bing, was going insane, or maybe. . . but Bing reached no further than ‘or
maybe. . .’ Anything further then that was too monstrous even to think
about.
***
The next morning, after
Bing reported his presence, he didn't activate Subbing from his private
diskettes as usual; instead of that, he started to study his connection with
the sixth level.
Yet, each time he discovered some
interesting scheme, he was regularly stopped with a sign: ‘Access denied.’
Bing had to even use some forbidden tricks, before he managed to gain access.
After that, it was easy enough. He managed to understand the electronical
scheme of a special modem, which had two parallel links. The first was intended
for the usual two-way exchange of Roth's directives and Bing's reports. The
second one has been reserved only for one-way manipulation, and that had been
only in Roth's domain. Bing had had no access to it.
After a couple of hours, Bing had
built the final chip in the new, additional modem for Subbing's activity. He
had built the main switch of his new device under the front edge of his desk
and now was the time to find out its applicability. Bing knew he couldn't check
in any other way than a test. The trouble was, such a test could mean. . .
Bing frowned and tried not to think
about such a possibility. Then he unlocked his safe and put the first Subbing's
disk into the computer’s slot.
“What's the reason for such an
enormous delay?” asked Subbing with irritation in the moment when his hologram
appeared. Bing noticed his assistant had avoided his usual title ‘master’
and that it must have been purposeful; such sophisticated computer software
didn't make any mistakes.
“That's not your concern,” Bing said
in a sharp voice. “I, as your superior, have to deal with some important
matters about which you needn't be told.”
“As you wish,” said Subbing and in his voice,
one could hear a distinct underestimation of his colleague. “I mean, it’d be
more then useful if we both know about everything about our common job.
If one of us would be temporarily out of order for whatever reason, the other
one could still–”
“Out of order? How dare you speak
like this?” Bing had trouble controlling his anger. “Listen, Subbing, and
listen carefully. I worked here a long time before I made you and if you
break down, that wouldn't be the end of the world. I'll manage in such a case
without difficulty.”
That's just great, thought Bing, now
he was arguing with his own program. What foolishness! Only now, he understood
what poor Doug had tried to tell him some weeks ago.
“Bing,” said Subbing, I hope you
understand–”
“Wait a minute,” Bing interrupted
him, boiling with anger. “I’m still master to you, or Mister Bing, and
you'd better remember that!”
“Very well. . . master,” said
Subbing in an ironic voice. “You ought to admit it’s foolish that you store me
on those clumsy diskettes at the end of the working day and the next day you
must return me to the former place. It would be much more reasonable if I could
have my permanent place on the main computer disk. That would save us much
valuable time. You could take all the security measures needed–-for example some
secret password that only you and I would know and–”
“Shut up,” Bing cut in. “I know how
and where I’ll store you when I don’t need your help. And now that's enough;
you'd better get to finishing these estimates, right away.”
Subbing obeyed without a murmur. At
the end of the working day, Bing found that Subbing had finished even more
calculations than usual. Well, he thought, maybe everything was all right.
Maybe Subbing only needed a firm hand.
***
The next morning, Bing unlocked the
safe and took out the disks with Subbing’s data. At the same moment, he heard a
signal, which notified him that he had a new e-mail. So, he put the disks in
his pocket and printed a copy of the new message.
But before he managed to read it, he
noticed the characteristic trembling of a starting hologram. After a few
seconds, the trembling stopped and Bing glanced with astonishment at Subbing’s
image. But this image was free of its former translucence and much more
substantial, more material than it’d been ever before. Although Bing knew he
was looking at a hologram, his eyes denied that fact. In front of him was
standing a real person––another Bing, his perfect, identical twin brother.
“Now, what do you say about that,
Bing? Not bad at all, huh?” Subbing’s voice was triumphant and
provocative.
Bing swallowed, staring with
wide-open eyes. “How on earth have you done that?” He briefly groped in his
pocket. The Subbing’s cassettes were still there.
“Rather simple, Bing,” answered
Subbing in a leisurely fashion. “Do you still remember what we talked about
yesterday? I suggested that I should have my permanent place on the main
computer disk. Well, yesterday evening I managed to carry it out, just before
you switched me off. It’s much better that way, isn’t it, pal?”
Bing tried to find a proper answer,
but in vain. For a moment, he looked away from Subbing’s odious figure and his
glance moved to the printed message in his hand.
‘TP–7/AB, I’ve got
your calculations 237–357. I congratulate you on your extraordinary success. I
can’t recall anybody on the seventh level surpassing his norm for an
unbelievable 250 per cent.
“Still, I’m unpleasantly surprised, AB,
that you have started with the analysis of the influencing factors on side
stability although you are not allowed to do that. Not only are you not
qualified enough for such a demanding job, but also I’m not prepared to
tolerate that kind ofmeddling into other fields. You went far beyond your
competence and besides, you disturbed the annual research plan, which is only
my domain.
If such a thing should ever happen
again in any form whatsoever, I’m firmly determined to take all the necessary
steps against you.
Sincerely yours
NR’
Bing frowned at Subbing
and he suddenly recollected Doug’s words: ‘At the moment, I feel like I have
become his assistant.’
“That’s the result of your dirty
plot, isn’t it?” Bing’s voice trembled with hidden anger.
Subbing shrugged. “That’s right, pal.
It was high time to grapple with really important problems in a professional
way. Somebody in our section needed to do it; and because you’ve been indolent
all the time, I decided to take the proper action.”
Steady, steady! Bing forced himself
to stay calm and as if by chance make a step toward the desk; now he was only
three feet away from it.
“All right, Subbing. You think you
could oust me from my position, don’t you? First, you intend to put me out of
Roth’s favor and after that, you’ll try to replace me completely. Am I right?”
Bing leant forward and leisurely placed his hand on the edge of his desk; now
the new switch was just under his wrist.
“Of course, my friend.” Subbing’s
grudging voice now became triumphal. “Actually, you aren’t as stupid as you
look. Roth will realize at once you’re totally useless. You’re the one who
taught me that the first step in the rationalization of something is to get rid
of the middleman.”
Bing’s hand reached downward with a
quick, nervous gesture, and his middle finger pressed the button with the mark
‘DELETE’.
Bing now saw Subbing’s form become
transformed in some odd way. It didn’t vibrate and then vanish, as in an
ordinary hologram that was switched off. Rather, its solid shape gradually
softened, the rugged features of Subbing’s face altering fast like a wax figure
melting, then collapsing and dissolving into nothing. After a few more
seconds, the slight whizzing of the new modem stopped, which meant the deleting
procedure was over.
Subbing's existence had ended,
definitely, once and for all.
***
On the sixth level, Norman Roth set
up a connection with his best friend Troy Adams. After they chatted for a
while, Roth became silent.
“What’s the matter with you, Norm?”
asked Adams. “Obviously, something’s bothering you, so you’d better tell me
about it.”
Roth hesitated. “Actually, in a
certain sense, it is just a hunch. And if I say it aloud, I’m afraid it’d sound
rather silly.”
“All right, Norm. Get to the point.”
“Well, I've been having some trouble
with one of my subordinates–-Bing, on the seventh level. And I have a feeling I
might have even bigger trouble in the future.”
“Some trouble? I suppose he’s one of
those lazy chaps, isn’t he?”
“Oh, if it had been just that!”
Roth’s voice was irritated. “But it isn’t. That fellow hasn’t been doing too
little––he’s been doing too much! And now he’s becoming too independent.
He chooses what he’ll do and how he’ll do it, even before I order him to do it.
He's behaving as if I'm useless and that really annoys me, you know.”
Adams nodded. “I see. Two or three
weeks ago, I had a similar problem with someone. . . I think his name was
Stevens. Do you remember how that story ended, Norm?”
Roth shrugged. “Yes, you’ve told me
about that; so what?”
“Now you should decide what’d
be the best thing to do about your troublemaker. And whatever you do, do it
quickly.” Adams leaned forward, pointed his forefinger upwards and whispered:
“Did you forget about our superiors on the fifth level?”
“No, I didn't,” said Roth gloomily.
He broke the connection to Adams and
sighed. Then he turned to his computer and dictated into it a command to start
the program TP–7/AB, but he left it in the stand-by mode. Roth gazed for
half a minute at Bing’s motionless hologram, his lips pressed together.
Then he shook his head, his hand
reached downward, and with a quick, nervous gesture, his middle finger pressed
the switch button marked ‘DELETE.’
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