Store of the Worlds: The Stories of Robert Sheckley by Robert Sheckley Page B

pseudoconsciousness. I can’t approve of that.”
    â€œBut, Mr. Gelsen, you yourself testified that the watchbird would not be completely efficient unless such circuits were introduced. Without them, the watchbirds could stop only an estimated seventy percent of murders.”
    â€œI know that,” Gelsen said, feeling extremely uncomfortable. “I believe there might be a moral danger in allowing a machine to make decisions that are rightfully man’s,” he declared doggedly.
    â€œOh, come now, Gelsen,” one of the corporation presidents said. “It’s nothing of the sort. The watchbird will only reinforce the decisions made by honest men from the beginning of time.”
    â€œI think that is true,” the representative agreed. “But I can understand how Mr. Gelsen feels. It is sad that we must put a human problem into the hands of a machine, sadder still that we must have a machine enforce our laws. But I ask you to remember, Mr. Gelsen, that there is no other possible way of stopping a murderer before he strikes . It would be unfair to the many innocent people killed every year if we were to restrict watchbird on philosophical grounds. Don’t you agree that I’m right?”
    â€œYes, I suppose I do,” Gelsen said unhappily. He had told himself all that a thousand times, but something still bothered him. Perhaps he would talk it over with Macintyre.
    As the conference broke up, a thought struck him. He grinned.
    A lot of policemen were going to be out of work!
    â€œNow what do you think of that?” Officer Celtrics demanded. “Fifteen years in Homicide and a machine is replacing me.” He wiped a large red hand across his forehead and leaned against the captain’s desk. “Ain’t science marvelous?”
    Two other policemen, late of Homicide, nodded glumly.
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” the captain said. “We’ll find a home for you in Larceny, Celtrics. You’ll like it here.”
    â€œI just can’t get over it,” Celtrics complained. “A lousy little piece of tin and glass is going to solve all the crimes.”
    â€œNot quite,” the captain said. “The watchbirds are supposed to prevent the crimes before they happen.”
    â€œThen how’ll they be crimes?” one of the policeman asked. “I mean they can’t hang you for murder until you commit one, can they?”
    â€œThat’s not the idea,” the captain said. “The watchbirds are supposed to stop a man before he commits a murder.”
    â€œThen no one arrests him?” Celtrics asked.
    â€œI don’t know how they’re going to work that out,” the captain admitted.
    The men were silent for a while. The captain yawned and examined his watch.
    â€œThe thing I don’t understand,” Celtrics said, still leaning on the captain’s desk, “is just how do they do it? How did it start, Captain?”
    The captain studied Celtrics’s face for possible irony; after all, watchbird had been in the papers for months. But then he remembered that Celtrics, like his sidekicks, rarely bothered to turn past the sports pages.
    â€œWell,” the captain said, trying to remember what he had read in the Sunday supplements, “these scientists were working on criminology. They were studying murderers, to find out what made them tick. So they found that murderers throw out a different sort of brain wave from ordinary people. And their glands act funny, too. All this happens when they’re about to commit a murder. So these scientists worked out a special machine to flash red or something when these brain waves turned on.”
    â€œScientists,” Celtrics said bitterly.
    â€œWell, after the scientists had this machine, they didn’t know what to do with it. It was too big to move around, and murderers didn’t drop in often enough to make it flash. So they built it into a