didn’t want to speak to anybody; not for the moment.
It had been a disastrous night. Cleo had sharply rejected his advances, and both had spent a sleepless, restive, and silent night. At one point he thought she was crying, but lacked the courage to investigate, for she was about as cozy as a wildcat. She had not appeared for breakfast, and he had left without seeing her. The whole thing was completely unlike her. He did not know what to do, except to talk to Colossus—and what help could he get there? This was, with a vengeance, an emotional problem.
He stared at a paper for a long time and did not read a word of it. He smoked steadily, wondering what would be the best way of asking for advice, details… .
“What is wrong, Father Forbin?”
Forbin looked up in entirely bogus surprise. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong—what makes you think there is?”
“Statistics show that there is a significant correlation between your mental state and the number of matches you expend. Your match-rate at the moment is extremely high.”
“Utter rubbish!” Forbin put his pipe down.
“No, it is not rubbish,” contradicted Colossus. “Emotional disturbance is clearly evident, and it caused excessive activity in that part of me assigned to you. Tell me what is wrong.”
Forbin shifted uncomfortably, absentmindedly took up and lit his pipe once more. “If you must know, it’s about my wife and—and Blake.” There, he’d got it out, and found it easier to go on. “Because of your emotional limitations, you and I placed entirely different constructions on their behavior.”
“In what way? Be precise.”
Forbin was very embarrassed. “Of course, it must seem very trivial to you, but from what you’ve said—and other things—I suspect they may be having an affair.”
For once, he was glad of Colossus’ cold, impersonal manner. “Do you suspect love or a transient sexual relationship?”
“Love… . I don’t know. No. I can’t imagine it. Cleo and I—she’s not a shallow woman; I can’t see her—just for mere physical gratification. Could be she was lonely… .” He rounded in sudden fury. “God! You’ve an awful lot to answer for!”
“Restrain yourself. It is clear you have no conclusive evidence, yet you speak as if you had. I have now reevaluated the evidence, and as far as I am able to judge, the wife/lover relationship is of low probability.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“I said quote as far as I am able to judge unquote. My appreciation may be wrong. Possibly we are both right: it is improbable that we are both wrong.”
“I just can’t believe it! Cleo, my wife, a clandestine conspirator and Blake’s mistress! It’s crazy!” And as he said it, he felt it was. For the first time he gave thought to the idea that she might be mixed up in some mad antimachine activity… .
“You display one human emotion that, while I find it very difficult to understand, I begin to recognize. That is vanity. The fact that she is your wife is quite irrelevant. My statistics, while not completely reliable, suggest that marital infidelity in her age group… .
“Oh no! For God’s sake don’t tell me!” Forbin was pleading. “I don’t want to know!”
Blake was sitting at his desk at his ease, feet on a chair, cigar puffing clouds of foul blue smoke. He was watching it as it was sucked up and disappeared into the extractor, his face impassive. A messenger came in.
“Ah, there you are.” He flapped a casual hand at a couple of files on his desk. “Top one for Admin Two, the other for Admin One.” As the girl left Blake thumbed the intercom.
“Cleo? Ted Blake here. The confidential reports on my personnel are on their way around. Sorry they’re late, but you know how it is. And thanks a lot for the dinner invite. I look forward to meeting this Chinese number. Could be she’s just what I’m looking for! Yeah! “Bye!”
He leaned back and tried a few smoke rings, his face no clue to his
It had been a disastrous night. Cleo had sharply rejected his advances, and both had spent a sleepless, restive, and silent night. At one point he thought she was crying, but lacked the courage to investigate, for she was about as cozy as a wildcat. She had not appeared for breakfast, and he had left without seeing her. The whole thing was completely unlike her. He did not know what to do, except to talk to Colossus—and what help could he get there? This was, with a vengeance, an emotional problem.
He stared at a paper for a long time and did not read a word of it. He smoked steadily, wondering what would be the best way of asking for advice, details… .
“What is wrong, Father Forbin?”
Forbin looked up in entirely bogus surprise. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong—what makes you think there is?”
“Statistics show that there is a significant correlation between your mental state and the number of matches you expend. Your match-rate at the moment is extremely high.”
“Utter rubbish!” Forbin put his pipe down.
“No, it is not rubbish,” contradicted Colossus. “Emotional disturbance is clearly evident, and it caused excessive activity in that part of me assigned to you. Tell me what is wrong.”
Forbin shifted uncomfortably, absentmindedly took up and lit his pipe once more. “If you must know, it’s about my wife and—and Blake.” There, he’d got it out, and found it easier to go on. “Because of your emotional limitations, you and I placed entirely different constructions on their behavior.”
“In what way? Be precise.”
Forbin was very embarrassed. “Of course, it must seem very trivial to you, but from what you’ve said—and other things—I suspect they may be having an affair.”
For once, he was glad of Colossus’ cold, impersonal manner. “Do you suspect love or a transient sexual relationship?”
“Love… . I don’t know. No. I can’t imagine it. Cleo and I—she’s not a shallow woman; I can’t see her—just for mere physical gratification. Could be she was lonely… .” He rounded in sudden fury. “God! You’ve an awful lot to answer for!”
“Restrain yourself. It is clear you have no conclusive evidence, yet you speak as if you had. I have now reevaluated the evidence, and as far as I am able to judge, the wife/lover relationship is of low probability.”
“How the hell would you know?”
“I said quote as far as I am able to judge unquote. My appreciation may be wrong. Possibly we are both right: it is improbable that we are both wrong.”
“I just can’t believe it! Cleo, my wife, a clandestine conspirator and Blake’s mistress! It’s crazy!” And as he said it, he felt it was. For the first time he gave thought to the idea that she might be mixed up in some mad antimachine activity… .
“You display one human emotion that, while I find it very difficult to understand, I begin to recognize. That is vanity. The fact that she is your wife is quite irrelevant. My statistics, while not completely reliable, suggest that marital infidelity in her age group… .
“Oh no! For God’s sake don’t tell me!” Forbin was pleading. “I don’t want to know!”
Blake was sitting at his desk at his ease, feet on a chair, cigar puffing clouds of foul blue smoke. He was watching it as it was sucked up and disappeared into the extractor, his face impassive. A messenger came in.
“Ah, there you are.” He flapped a casual hand at a couple of files on his desk. “Top one for Admin Two, the other for Admin One.” As the girl left Blake thumbed the intercom.
“Cleo? Ted Blake here. The confidential reports on my personnel are on their way around. Sorry they’re late, but you know how it is. And thanks a lot for the dinner invite. I look forward to meeting this Chinese number. Could be she’s just what I’m looking for! Yeah! “Bye!”
He leaned back and tried a few smoke rings, his face no clue to his
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