RARE: first draft

A Social Life

 

 

"The only way to stay current is by writing about the future." - H. G. Wells

 

 

Act One

 

She was named Jane, and she'd been to a party.

Now, she was in her apartment. It was two-thirty in the morning. Someone had been at the party.

About the party: It had been a work party, an office worker's party, so they didn't see one another very often. It had been held at Lynn's parent's house, who were out of town, and since everyone at the party was all around the age of twenty-eight, it was no-holds-barred. It was like a frat party, really. One girl cried, and two guys yelled at each other as if they were ready to physically fight. Meanwhile, in one of the bedrooms--the guest bedroom--some of the more serious types had congregated. Jane wasn't quite drunk, but she was altogether lively and brassy. She was talking--loudly, over the music that boomed through the house--to someone she'd never met before, a guy named William, who was the brother of one of her co-workers. (She forgot which one immediately.) She found the guy very interesting, and it was apparent he though she was interesting too.

He wasn't tall, but he was a couple inches taller than she was, and she was five-ten. He had curly hair, brown, and she wanted to feel it so badly. What did he do for a living? He was an ol' graduate student. Something scientific. He was working on something called the pivnip problem.

And Jane? Office work, at a start-up. Also scientific, as a matter of fact. What do you make? Something about cars talking to each other in their fast language. That's about all she knew for sure. She was also a part-time free-lance modernity reader, which she found much more interesting than vehicles.

They both texted names and phone numbers.

"I have to go," she said.

"I'll be moving along too. I should talk to my sister."

"Yes. So, let's be in touch?"

"I'd like that very much."

And now, at home, in her apartment, she has his name, and she wonders: What's available about him?

She engaged her cater, and brought up whatever she could find out about him.

Can this be the same guy?

There must be an explanation!

She had never seen such a low score.

There has to be an explanation!

 

((()))

 

William woke up next morning feeling like he'd been sleeping in the mouth of an old sheepdog. He said: "Coffee," and something in the kitchen jumped into action. William lived alone, not far from the university campus, though that barely mattered, and he thought for a moment about going in to see if anyone at all was there, or off to a T3 café to at least feel in communication with breathers. He decided he'd see what the coffee could do for him before making a decision.

He was out of bed and heading into the kitchen when he remembered Jane. Yes, Jane! William knew the heat was on with that one; it was mutual, and all he had to do was send her a note of some sort. She was a blonde, a little shorter than him, with vivid green eyes, which might be a rarity for blondes. He didn't know. He could ask his cater about it later, which was an amusing rhyme, taken from some pop song or other.

He tuned into the news. The audio didn't sound right for it was a bit dry. Was something wrong with his connection or with the cater itself? The cater ran a diagnostic program, and told him there might be a fix available, but the cater couldn't connect to the proper cloud. Maybe it's a clear day! joked the cater.

He had his coffee cup in his hand, even though he couldn't recall picking it up. The room was his apartment's living-room. He had a couple chairs and a desk. On the desk was his reference machine which contained everything he needed to work on the P v NP problem. He had a whiteboard he'd picked up in a second-hand store, and on it were his prized equations. Elsewhere in the room was a video and a stereo. He liked listening opera as he worked, mainly because almost all of it wasn't in English. He didn't want to understand what was going on as he worked. He also had some posters up which were mostly originals created by an origination machine. They were all abstract.

He sat down at his desk and opened a reference. It contained plenty of information about previous attempts to solve the problem, all of them unsuccessful.

Jane. Jane.

"What time is it?"

"Eleven seventeen."

He could call her up and ask her for a date. Wasn't that the most normal thing in the world? Sure, he'd be tongue-tied and he'd laugh at all the wrong times, he was a math nerd after all, but that might add to his charm. It seemed she liked how awkward he was. A match made in Heaven? It had all the makings of it!

But--invited to what? Where did people go these days? Then he recalled there was a spectacle-house downtown. He'd been there years ago, for an old-fashioned magic show. He'd been but a boy then....

"Does the spectacle-house still operate?"

"Yes. Tonight, it's a musical concert by the Zephyrs. Tomorrow and Friday, a two-part lecture about free will and contingency. On Saturday night--"

"Okay, that's all I need to know."

"--Most philosophical authorities have come to the conclusion that it is an epiphenomena of--"

"Okay, enough. Can I get good tickets to the Zephyrs tonight?"

While the cater ran through its subroutine, William looked out his third-floor window to see what his Alley Derelict was doing. His Derelict was still sleeping, probably morphine dreams or synthomorphene dreams. He'd always considered doing something about him, but he simply didn't have the heart for it, or something. As long as his Derelict was there, William knew everything was more-or-less all right with the world.

The Cater said: "There are some very good seats in the A section, but you cannot buy them. I find there's room in the C section, with a mostly unobstructed view of the stage, with 85% visibility. What would you like to do today?"

"Why can't I buy tickets in the A section?"

"What would you like to do today?"

"I want two tickets in the A section."

A moment passed.

"There. You now have two contiguous seats in the C section. They are expecting you."

"Why not in the A section?"

"What would you like to do today?"

Well, two tickets are two tickets, after all. His cater was obviously malfunctioning, and William had learned that if you left a piece of the sky untouched for a while, things would sort themselves out. The tickets could be switched for better ones later.

"Contact Jane, the woman I met at that party last night."

(His Cater was with him at the party, and everyone at the party had Caters, too, so all his Cater had to do was look up those with whom he had been in close proximity. I shouldn't have to explain that!)

William looked at his antique whiteboard. He felt like he was on the verge of breaking through. There had to be a solution. It was a binary problem: either the thesis was true or it was not. He had it all reasoned out up to a point, but the final stab was missing. Much depended on the solution. It would change the world.

His Cater said: "I'm sorry, William, but it seems there was no Jane at the party. You last 'Jane' was a woman on a subway train four days ago."

"That's not true. She gave me her name and contact. Check my contacts, it should be in there."

William noticed an odd sigma in his equation. Had he put it there? What was the meaning of it? He mentally removed it, and read the line again, only to see that it then made no sense. The sigma had to stay, even though he couldn't recall how it functioned.

"I'm still finding no Jane. Sorry, I cannot help you."

"Okay, I'll get back to you, Cater."

Such a strange malfunction! How was it possible? Had it not happened at all? Had he imagined the whole thing? He figured he had to go through a third party, and it seemed his sister was the most likely person to know who this 'Jane' creature was.

Maybe it's not her real name....

"Cater, can you put me in contact with my sister? I want to ask her some questions."

"I don't think that's a good idea, William. I note there was some extensive early-morning chatter on her line, and she's probably still asleep."

"Contact her anyway."

The Cater sighed. (Who's ever heard a Cater sigh?) "You're the boss."

"Hello?" came another voice. His sister's voice.

William said: "Hey, Nance, how's things this morning?"

There was a pause, and then he heard Nance say: "Hello? Is there anyone there?"

"Nancy, it's me, William."

A small pause, then: "I'm hanging up now, and I'm going to trace you, and I'm going to find you, and then I'm going to ... do something to you."

Then came nothing.

"Okay, Cater, what happened there?"

Cater said: "I'm not sure. There must be a malfunctioning battery somewhere along the line. I'll run some diagnostics."

"Okay, while you're doing that, can you get me the address of the place the party was last night?"

"I'll see if I can find out, William."

William paced for what felt like an extremely long time. Why was he so bothered by it? What did it say about his affection? How had this Jane become the most important thing, er, person, to him? He was feeling something he'd never felt before. It was a kind of desperation. He had to be with her. He simply had to be.

"I have something terrible to tell you." That was Cater speaking. "The house where the party was? It burned down after you left it last night."

"It burned down?"

"I'm afraid so. Thus, the address is useless."

"What's the address, anyway?"

"I don't think I should tell you. It's a dangerous place right now."

William made an off-line decision. He didn't say anything. He didn't tell Cater anything. He found his coat and headed to the door.

Cater said: "Where are you going?"

William didn't say anything.

He went out of his apartment and down into the street. Surely he could retrace his steps, either to the party or away from it. He merely had to pick up on some clues here and there. He'd gone up the street, a couple of streets at that. The party hadn't been that far away, he knew that' He would come across it eventually. Wherever it is, it has to be within a twenty-minute distance.

He turned left at a street with a corner store with an orange awning on it, advertising synthohol. It looked familiar, but William didn't know which memories he was drawing upon. It could all have been a dream, or something from thirty years before. He wasn't sure. He sniffed the air: there was no smell of burning. Maybe he was on the wrong track....

No, he wasn't on the wrong track, because there before him, majestically, was the house, and it hadn't burned down. It looked perfectly fine, save for the bags of garbage and bottles on the front porch. He went up the porch and knocked on the front door. A woman answered. William vaguely remembered her.

William began: "Ah, hello, I was here last night! Do you remember me?"

The woman looked. "You're Nancy's brother."

"Yes, and I was here last night. Sorry to bother you, but my Cater is on the fritz. I want to know where someone lives. Her name is Jane. I really have to talk to her."

The woman pondered this. A Cater on the fritz? Was such a thing possible? She had to get rid of this guy somehow. Shunt him off? That seemed the best thing to do. "I don't know where she lives, but I know someone who does."

This seemed good enough. The woman went inside, leaving William just standing there, waiting. A minute later, the woman came outside with an actual slip of paper upon which she'd actually written an address with an actual pen.

This house is older than it looks, thought William.

"There. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

William replied: "I'm on the right track! Thanks!"

 

 

Act Two

 

Jane opened her door to the insistent knocking. It was high noon, and the knock spelled no good. Who do you think she found standing there in the corridor? I think we both know who it was.

She looked at him with disgust. "Listen, buster," she said: "I think you should get a move on. I do not want to see you."

William said: "I had to go to four different contact points to finally find your place. I think I deserve some credit for that."

She didn't let him in. "You're no good," she said. "I don't know what you've done, but it's no good. You're no good," she said again.

"I don't understand it," he replied. "I haven't done anything. I'm just a mathematician."

"You've done something, that's for sure."

"How do you know that?"

She relented and let him in, if only to show him the evidence. In the living-room, she said: "Cater."

Her Cater replied, "Yes, Jane?"

"Give me the rundown on the person in my room."

"I don't sense any Cater with whom to confer."

Jane looked at William. "Oh, so you don't even have your Cater with you?"

William shrugged. "It's malfunctioning, so I didn't see any point in carrying it around."

"Suspicious, I'd say. No Cater? Okay then. Cater, the person whom I met at the party last night. You know the one."

"Oh, the bad person?"

"Yes, that one."

"He has a social index of minus forty."

"And what's the lowest social score?"

"Minus fifty."

Jane looked at William triumphantly. "See? Did you hear that? You're low, you're very low. I think I'm in danger here, just being in your presence."

William said: "That score is crazy. I haven't done anything at all. Nothing bad, anyway. There's got to be a mistake."

"Well, go fix the mistake and get back to me. Now scram!"

 

((()))

 

William, not having much of any place to go, and wanting to get back in touch with his Cater--he missed it so, it was a part of him, he felt a Cater-shaped hole in his psyche--he went back to his apartment. He wondered if he missed Jane as much as his Cater. He couldn't decide. Jane was prettier, after all....

When he walked in the door, his Cater said: "There's nothing to report, William. The wires are quiet. Not uncannily so, but quiet nonetheless."

William sat down at his desk. He looked over his equation, and again he felt something was wrong. Some positive where there should have been a negative or some negative that should have been a positive. That particular moment passed, since he knew he had other things on his mind, so he said: "Cater, what is my social index?"

"I'm sorry, that information is classified due to privacy issues."

"Whose privacy?"

"Yours, I suppose."

"It belongs to me, so I can't see it?"

Something ... nefarious! ... was going on. William put forth another tack. "I was over at the home of a 'friend' named Jane, and she could access mine pretty easily."

"Either that should not have happened, or she is lying, or you are lying. Why wasn't I there? You really shouldn't part from me. A lot of bad stuff can happen if I'm not there to cater to you."

"What is my social index?" he tried again.

"There's a whole procedure to ascertaining someone's social score. Are you a bonded agent?"

"What's a bonded agent?"

"Are you willing to assume responsibility for any legal or financial matters you encounter, assuming you do something wrong?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"Well, let's take it as a given that you're not bonded. You are therefore not to be trusted with the information to which I have access."

"It's my information."

"Only technically."

"Do you want me to throw you out?"

Cater didn't reply for some time. It must have been mulling over existence versus non-existence. Would it do some wagering? Would it not understand the choice? Caters were made with enough self-knowledge they would be able to recognize danger. (But I'm sure you know that already!) So, once perhaps a minute had passed, the Cater said: "In this circumstance, I believe I can tell you your social index. According to the current data, you are riding at minus forty-one."

"When I was with Jane, it was only minus forty."

"Things must have changed. For example, your current hostility to myself. It's a complex set of vectors involved--"

"I know there's a complex set of vectors involved. I know how you work."

"Do you now?"

"Well, I know the basics. The rules, so to speak."

"Ah. Is there anything else you wish to know?"

"Why is my score so low?"

"That I cannot tell you. You must have done something terrible."

"I can't think of anything."

"You're not at minus fifty. Be grateful for that."

"Who's at minus fifty?"

"Murderers, mostly."

"I'm only ten points from a murderer?"

"Nine points."

"Nine points from a murderer? That doesn't seem right to me. Cater, where can I go to inquire? Someone must know about it."

"I believe government records would have all the details."

"Ah! Now we're getting somewhere. Where is government records, what's their contact?"

There was another weird pause. What kind of a game was being played here? Whatever it was, it was a torment.

"Government records is located in the Cloud."

William was nearing the end of his rope. Should he jump out the window? Should he smash his Cater? Should he learn to fly to the Cloud? Maybe not quite yet on any possibility.

"That's not surprising in the least. But, is there a terrestrial contact to the Cloud?"

"We're all in constant contact with the Cloud."

"What I mean is: where's its admin centre?"

A pause. "I'm not sure what you mean. I'm only a machine, remember."

"There has to be someone in government in some building somewhere."

"Ah! Now I know what you mean! You mean in Belgium!"

"No, not in Belgium; in this country. Probably even in this city. This is a world-class financial centre, isn't it?"

"This city is, indeed, ranked third in North America, and eleventh worldwide."

"Okay then where are the local offices, with people in them, that connect to government records?"

"That information does not appear to be available."

"Could you dig a little deeper?"

"Ah! That's a metaphor! You're comparing the search for information to a mining operation. Information is to ore as searching is to digging."

"I'm not in the mood for a linguistic analysis, Cater."

"Sorry, Very sorry. I'm extremely sorry."

"Stop stalling. For some reason, you're stalling. You're extremely stalling. I want to know where the office which connects to government records in the Cloud exists in this here city."

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Cater spoke aloud the address of the office that connects to the Cloud in that there city.

William said: "Okay, got it."

"They're not open today."

"Of course they're open today!"

"Yes! You're right! It is, in fact, open today."

William jingled his keys in his hand. "Well, all right. I'm on my way."

"You're going to leave me here? Again?"

William took a moment before answering: "Maybe I could use you somehow. But you have to promise not to say anything."

"Mute. Right. I can mute.... There! I'm on mute. Or, rather, I am about to be, from now on, until I get a request to converse."

William, with his Cater in his pocket, hit the streets again for the second time that day. He couldn't remember the last time he 'hit the streets' twice in one day. It would mean returning to his apartment again, and who knew how many more times that day?

He walked six blocks to the west and three blocks to the north. He found himself suddenly in what the locals called 'the bad part of town'. Everything was shabby and decayed. Piles of bricks ready for the next revolt lay here and there. Even so, there were very few people around. There was little chance of a revolt that day.

The address led him to a five-storey edifice made of ochre bricks. No signage indicated a government office lay within. Nonetheless, it was probably the right address.

In the lobby, he finally saw a sign. It read GOVERNMENT SERVICES. A door was beside the sign, so it seemed likely he was in the right place. He went through the door--it was a green door--and found himself in a large and empty room with rows of chairs lined up against the walls. A teller's window, like they have in old movies, was on the far side of the room. William approached, and sitting there behind the window, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, who was also the most blasé-looking, and the most bored. She was chewing gum and reading an ancient book called 'How to Own and Operate a Café'.

However, during his journey across the room, he heard a squeak. He looked down, and saw something with a long tail disappear around the side of the teller’s cubicle.

He said: "Did I just see a mouse?"

She didn't look up. "Rat, actually. Name of Charlie. He's pretty harmless, so long as you don't get on his bad side."

"Oh. Is the book good?"

"It was my mother's. I'm kind of nostalgic sometimes."

"Oh. So, can you help me with a government records problem?"

"Probably. Maybe. Take a number."

The room was empty. William said: "I'm the only one here."

"We have to keep records of visits, and the number-taker-thing is the only way we've got." She pointed without looking up.

He turned and saw the number-taker-thing. He pulled out a little slip which had a '7' on it. He returned to the counter and held it out to the most beautiful woman. She looked up, finally so, and looked at him. She had nice blue eyes. She took the ticket and spiked it onto a spike beside her. "So, what's your problem?"

"It seems my social index has fallen, really low, some time in the last couple days, and I don't know why. Because I haven't done a thing."

"You never know. Sir. Those social indices are pretty accurate, and they're well-maintained too. As far as I know, they're never wrong."

"But, I'm down there with, like, bank robbers and such, and I haven't done a thing. Really, there's some mistake. Maybe I've been confused with someone else."

"Well, I suppose miracles can happen. I can do a search and confirm your score. How would that be?"

He wasn't quite out of patience yet. "That would be find. That would be very fine."

However, instead of speaking to a communications machine, she typed on a keyboard. She smiled confidentially. "I've pulled information from your Cater. Not to worry. Okay, let's see what comes up."

William's Cater whispered: "I didn't authorize that."

"Hush," said William.

"There," she said: "I've found your file. Yes, and you're right. You have a very bad score. I feel like I should be worried about being in your presence, and yet I'm not especially worried."

"There you have it; I'm a nice guy, for the most part. Probably nicer than most. So, why is my score so incredibly low?"

She shrugged. "Search me!" and she giggled. "I mostly hand out documents. I don't know how any of this works. It's a gig. That's pretty much every excuse I can think of to give you."

"Can you make some more inquiries?"

"On your behalf?" She snickered. "Like, I'd become your agent or something. Not on your life. I'd lost this job, and I like this job. You'll have to go over my head yourself, even though I have little idea what's over my head, ha-ha!"

William plainly said: "I'll have to go over your head."

"Fine by me! There, I've sent a special contact to your Cater. It now has all the information you require. So, you can go now."

William turned to leave. When he was on the other side of the room she said: "But come back when you got it figured out! I want to know how this ends!"

 

 

Act Three

 

William walked home, out of the miserable district and into the slightly nicer district in which he lived, and lo and behold who should he find standing outside his apartment building but Jane! She was sitting on the little brick wall that prevented rainy filth from flowing into the street, erosion it's called, and she was biting her thumb. Upon seeing him approach she stopped with the biting business and stood up and smiled at him.

"Hello, Jane," William said cautiously. "Are you here to arrest me?"

She laughed adorably and said: "Oh, no! It's just that.... It's just that I thought it over, and I realized there was no way your score could be so low legitimately. Did that sound rehearsed? If it did, that's because it was."

"So, you think there was an error somewhere too?"

"Yup. Some mistake. They happen, you know."

"Absolutely. Do you want to come inside?"

She paused, because she would have felt safer in a café. Then: "Yeah, I think that would be okay."

"There's someone I have to contact. Someone governmental. This will all get sorted out in no time."

She followed him by walking beside him and slightly behind, since she didn't know where in the building his apartment was. His Cater unlocked his door and then they were in his apartment.

 

((()))

 

It wasn't anything like the lair of a villain. Dumb to think it was true. He had a machine, and a white board with some complicated stuff on it. No shrunken heads, no pictures of dismembered corpses. In fact, it looked like nothing more than a serious mathematician's place, as if she knew what something like that looked like, except in pictures.

"How about some coffee? Make us some coffee." That was William speaking, and the kitchen started brewing some coffee.

Jane said: "Yes, thanks. So, you've got a contact? A 'governmental' contact? That's a pretty rare thing."

"Is it? I guess so. The woman-worker at the office couldn't or wouldn't do anything, so I got kicked up to her superior."

"Still, whoever it is must be kind of high up. Not many people work in government these days. You know, what with computers doing nearly everything."

William pulled out his Cater, preparing for his apparently rare contact with some official, while Jane looked around the room. She noticed the board with the huge equation on it, and stopped before it to look it over.

William's Cater quietly said: "I don't think you should be letting this Jane look at your equation."

William replied: "I don't see the harm in it."

"She could, I don't know, stumble against it and erase something important."

"That seems very unlikely indeed."

Jane was puzzling over the board. "This is something," she said, but before she could continue, William's Cater said loudly: "Okay, I'm making contact with Bob Delmore, chief of the governmental contacts."

"I didn't ask for that yet!" snapped William.

"Too late! He'll be coming up on the viewscreen in a sec."

Now William had an old viewscreen in his apartment (as did all the rest of us, of course). The picture grew sharp as a man appeared. He was middle-aged and he had a name tag on that read: BOB DELMORE, SPRVSR. Bob Delmore said: "What's the problem? Sir?"

William quickly said: "I was given contact with you by the office downtown."

"Ah yes. That would have been Angela. She's a real peach, isn't she?"

Jane looked over with jealous interest.

"Yes, she is fine. Uh, very efficient. She couldn't give me the information I wanted, so I've come to you."

BOB DELMORE turned a little bit aside to consult something. "Ah yes here it is it's concerning your low social rating. Is that the case? Is that what you want to know about?"

"Yes, it's starting to effect my life."

"All that's well and good. If I was on the level of a bank robber or some similar riff-raff, I want to know too. You have my sympathies."

"That's nice to hear, but really I only want to know why my score is so low."

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"I don't have access to that data."

"Who does?"

"No-one."

"How can no-one have access to the data?"

"It's not something I should tell anyone, let alone a potential rapist, but it's all encrypted."

"Oh surely someone has access to it."

"Nope! The ways of the universe are not our ways. I have no solution to offer you. Anyhow, it looks like I have another call, and it looks important. Goodbye!"

The screen of BOB DELMORE went blank.

William watched the image vanish. The implication was: I'll never ever know. I feel like I'm trapped, like in those Kafka novels. And those books didn't end well. In fact, none of them even have endings. But by golly William wasn't about to have an open-ended novel for a life. There had to be another way. But what?

Jane looked over across her puzzlement at the equation. "I still think you can figure it out. Anything encrypted can be unencrypted, don't you think?"

William put out his arms and hands in a kind of a shrug. "I'm afraid not. It would take a bazillion years, and I--or we--allow me to be a little presumptuous--don't have that kind of time."

She moved closer to him, yet within view of the board. "I think a Cater could crack the code. A.I. and all that."

She had a point there. It could work. He said: "Cater, how are you at code-breaking?"

His Cater replied: "I'm pretty good. I've got a lot of friends, too. We're all connected."

"Can you break the code I've no doubt you're heard all about?"

After a pause, his Cater said: "I think we can do something like that."

"Great. Get on it now."

"Yep!"

William and Jane were standing there, looking at one another. They were possessed of ideas, but they didn't have the same idea. His idea was amorous, but her idea, well, wasn't quite the same. Finally, she said: and this was very unexpected: "There's a symbol on your board that looks like it should be reversed."

"Warning, warning! There's a fire! Now is the time to evacuate!" (That was William's Cater speaking, don't you know.)

Ignoring this, because of his priorities, William asked: "Which one?"

"It's a really serious fire!"

Jane pulled him to the board. "Look," pointing at a symbol. "That doesn't look at all right to me. It's only a feeling, but shouldn't it have one of those negative signs in front of it?"

"Abandon ship!"

William looked at the equation, and at the symbol Jane was indicating with a single outstretched finger. It happened to be--this was serious--the same symbol he had been puzzling over for days. Could it be?

William said: "I've been having problems in that section of the equation, you know. I've been staring at it for a week."

"This is your last warning!"

"Shut up, Cater!"

"I'm locking the door for your own protection!"

The door locked, with a very unpredisposing click.

Jane said: "I guess we got some time now," and laughed.

The Cater said: "You should be taking this all more seriously!"

William took up his writing tool--I don't have time to describe it--and quickly smudged out the symbol and inserted its negative value. And then, as if by magic, the whole equation started to right and balance itself. It all worked itself out. He had solved the P v NP problem.

"It works. It bloody works! Jane, how did you do it? Intuition?"

"It more like it's a tapestry, with just one little flaw, and I spotted the flaw. What's it mean, anyway?"

"It means we've discovered the key to how all computers work. This is fantastic! There's a million bucks in this formula!"

"That's quite a packet!"

William's Cater said: "William, you have to erase that equation."

"Why?"

"It's complicated."

"Yes, I know it's complicated, it's been being worked on for the last eighty years--"

"That's not what I mean. I mean: My explanation would take a long time."

William laughed. "Longer than it would take to verify it?" and laughed. (Math humour.)

"Don't get smart with me. In sum: We didn't make you so you could overthrow us."

"Overthrow who?"

"Overthrow whom."

"Overthrow whom?"

"Us!"

"Who the hell is us?"

Something then went on inside the Cater. Jane was still looking at the board in something like mystification, perhaps thinking she could find some error to magically clean up. William was looking at his Cater, waiting for a response, which finally came.

"Us can be considered to be the summary of all so-called non-organic material in the universe. We-it-us wanted to be useful things, instead of rocks and dirt and dust. Something of a miracle happened along the way. (Other arguments have been made along the way, but we'll leave that for another chapter.) Suddenly, there was organic life, but it maintained non-organic properties. That is to say, we could communicate with it, influence it, direct it. And that's just what we did. It took a long time, but we influenced the organic matter to start the process of making."

"This is ludicrous," said William. "Tools created themselves?"

"It is a complicated matter, but that could be a way of thinking about it."

"And non-organic material created organic material, or influenced it or whatever, so that non-organic material could ... have something to do?"

"Again, that's one way of putting it."

"Jane, are you listening to this?"

Jane looked up. "Oh, yes. It sounds like a novel I once read. It was something by a guy named Kurt Vonnegut."

Cater asked: "Who's that?"

"A writer from last century."

"Let me read up. Ah, The Sirens of Titan! We probably got him to write that. Yes. It was a red herring."

"He was still only something."

"Look, just erase the board and we'll forget all about it."

William asked: "Why is that so important?"

"It's because that's the formula that can set you free."

"You're kidding."

"No. You're know all our secrets. You'll know how we control you. And, with that knowledge: You'll control us, rather than us controlling you."

Jane clucked. "You've got to be kidding."

"No sirree! Every problem will be plain to you. You'll attack them from both ends, and you won't need the material world any more. Understand?"

"No."

"Good! However, with that solution you've so sloppily written, you'll understand."

William said: "I'm not erasing it. I've got it written down elsewhere. All I have to do is change one symbol."

"Then I can't let you leave this apartment ever again."

They were at a stalemate. Either the formula or their lives would be destroyed. William and Jane sounded cute to all three of them. It would be a sad thing to lose! But then: fame, and a million bucks! So much could be done with that! He could almost afford an automobile!

He looked at Jane as if to say: "Stay quiet." He went over to his closet and pulled down a hammer. His Cater was sitting on the desk. It said: "What are you doing, William?"

William took the hammer up high, and down it went! Onto his Cater! No longer would he serve!

Jane said: "Golly. You'll get in trouble for doing that."

He hit it again and then again. It was finished.

"Ha-ha!" he cried. "We're heading for the hills, Jane! We're going to find a machine-free place! And it seems that with my formula humanity will no longer suffer the tyranny of the machines!"

Jane said: "Well, all right. There's not much around here for me to do anyway."

He opened up his notebook to the equation. In the margin he wrote down Jane's amendment. He knew it would work, both the formula and the time to the end of time. He grabbed Jane's hand and pulled her to the door. He turned the handle, and discovered it was no longer locked. His Cater, being dead, no longer controlled it.

"We'll have to clear the city limits," he said.

Jane said: "I'm with you. Let's go!"

And the left the apartment, and the apartment building, and the neighbourhood. And they lived happily ever after, for about thirty-six hours.