Colossus by D. F. Jones Page B

still, lit his pipe, the flame leaping between puffs, lighting up his face. To Cleo, he appeared calm, but she was not sure if it was the calmness of a man in control of a situation, or of resignation. He snuffed the taper, placed it carefully in an ashtray.
    “Yes, I’m frightened. And I’m sure we share the same fear—of the possibility of Colossus exceeding his parameters. Where we may differ is in the degree to which we fear those parameters may be exceeded. Cleo probably fears a major breakdown of the system—that the whole thing may be useless and that we’re facing a gigantic repair job. You, Jack, go a good deal further and fear Colossus may go mad—in mechanical terms, malfunction. Inevitably, one imagines Colossus wildly firing missiles in all directions. This is the core of your fears, Jack, and probably mine too.”
    He paused to relight his pipe. “In theory, there’s as much chance of parameter failure as there is of water running uphill, but that FLASH is indicative of a profound alteration in the machine. You’ve both been too busy with the details to have time to consider the broader implications. While I’m worried about—no, I’ll be honest—scared about Colossus malfunctioning, I’m even more scared that it may be capable of what I term “free thought.” This transmission to Guardian may well be nothing more than Colossus seeking intelligence which CIA hasn’t provided. Then again …”
    Forbin stopped. It was hardly necessary for him to go on. Fisher spoke.
    “You are quite correct about my fears, Charles. I need time to consider this “free thought” proposition. Doctor Markham has more practical knowledge of the parameters, and therefore of what Colossus can perfectly legitimately do—but even if this action is within the system’s permitted scope, we are left with the problem of the initiating thought for this action.”
    “The idea of Colossus seeking intelligence seems just tenable to me,” Cleo said. “If it is true, then Colossus has a most tortuous mind.”
    “No, not tortuous—but complex, possibly devious, almost feminine.”
    “Charles,” said Fisher, rising, “I’m glad we’re in the open now. I’ll get back and see how matters stand and arrange the new task. The idea of free thought within the parameters could solve this dreadful problem. Yes.”
    Fisher hurried off, happier than he had been for some time, leaving Cleo and Forbin deep in thought. Neither spoke for several minutes, Forbin smoked stolidly, Cleo examined her nails.
    “Charles, call it feminine intuition if you like, but I don’t think you really believe that there is a nice cozy answer, do you?”
    “Frankly, Cleo, I don’t know. I’m not very optimistic—but Fisher is in a bad way. The last few days have been a great strain on him. Anyway, I’d like you to check the parameter banks— see if reading any two produces a third which is new.”
    “You mean like `Don’t drink water’ and `avoid cold’ equals `don’t drink ice’?”
    “That’s it.”
    “We could feed in more strongly worded parameters.”
    “I want to keep that in reserve. I suppose I have some of your female intuition about Colossus—I don’t want to risk an order that might not be obeyed.”
    A sudden click as the intercom came alive brought the noise of the watch room flooding into the quiet office. Without preamble, Fisher spoke; his voice was high and cracked with tension.
    “Forbin! Come over at once!” He cut off without waiting for an answer.
    “Now that,” observed Forbin calmly, “sounds like real trouble.” He stood up, helping Cleo from the depths of her armchair. His face was very close; she caught the smell of strong tobacco. She knew this was not the moment, but still tried.
    “Charles .
    “I know, my dear, I know.” He brushed her hair lightly with his cheek, sighed, then made for the door, his tone becoming more brisk, hard and controlled. “Fisher’s safety fuses are near blowing. Maybe