The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein Page A

answered. “Mike could be a member of the
cell Mannie will head.”
    “Mmm
… true. I withdraw objection. He is safe? You vouch for him? Or you,
Manuel?”
    I
said, “He’s dishonest, immature, practical joker, not interested in
politics.”
    “Mannie,
I’m going to tell Mike you said that. Professor, he’s nothing of
the sort—and we need him. Uh, in fact he might be our chairman, and we
three the cell under him. The executive cell.”
    “Wyoh,
you getting enough oxygen?”
    “I’m
okay, I haven’t been guzzling it the way you have. Think, Mannie. Use
imagination.”
    “I
must confess,” said Prof, “that I find these conflicting reports
very conflicting.”
    “Mannie?”
    “Oh,
hell.” So we told him, between us, all about Mike, how he woke up. got
his name, met Wyoh. Prof accepted idea of a self-aware computer easier than I
accepted idea of snow first time I saw. Prof just nodded and said, “Go
on.”
    But
presently he said, “This is the Warden’s own computer? Why not
invite the Warden to our meetings and be done with it?”
    We
tried to reassure him. At last I said, “Put it this way. Mike is his own
boy, just as you are. Call him rational anarchist, for he’s rational and
he feels no loyalty to any government.”
    “If
this machine is not loyal to its owners, why expect it to be loyal to
you?”
    “A
feeling. I treat Mike well as I know how, he treats me same way.” I told
how Mike had taken precautions to protect me. “I’m not sure he
could betray me to anyone who didn’t have those signals, one to secure
phone, other to retrieve what I’ve talked about or stored with him;
machines don’t think way people do. But feel dead sure he wouldn’t
want to betray me and probably could protect me even if somebody got those
signals.”
    “Mannie,”
suggested Wyoh, “why not call him? Once Professor de la Paz talks to him
he will know why we trust Mike. Professor, we don’t have to tell Mike any
secrets until you feel sure of him.”
    “I
see no harm in that.”
    “Matter
of fact,” I admitted, “already told him some secrets.” I told
them about recording last night’s meeting and how I stored it.
    Prof
was distressed, Wyoh was worried. I said, “Damp it! Nobody but me knows retrieval
signal. Wyoh, you know how Mike behaved about your pictures; won’t let me
have those pictures even though I suggested lock on them. But if you two will
stop oscillating, I’ll call him, make sure that nobody has retrieved that
recording. and tell him to erase—then it’s gone forever, computer
memory is all or nothing. Or can go one better. Call Mike and have him play
record back into recorder, wiping storage. No
huhu
.”
    “Don’t
bother,” said Wyoh. “Professor, I trust Mike—and so will
you.”
    “On
second thought,” Prof admitted, “I see little hazard from a
recording of last night’s meeting. One that large always contains spies
and one of them may have used a recorder as you did, Manuel. I was upset at
what appeared to be your indiscretion—a weakness a member of a conspiracy
must never have, especially one at the top, as you are.”
    “Was
not member of conspiracy when I fed that recording into Mike—and not now
unless somebody quotes odds better than those so far!”
    “I
retract; you were not indiscreet. But are you seriously suggesting that this
machine can predict the outcome of a revolution?”
    “Don’t
know.”
    “I
think he can!” said Wyoh.
    “Hold
it, Wyoh. Prof, he could predict it fed all significant data.”
    “That’s
my point, Manuel. I do not doubt that this machine can solve problems I cannot
grasp. But one of this scope? It would have to know—oh,
goodness!—all of human history, all details of the entire social,
political, and economic situation on Terra today and the same for Luna, a wide
knowledge of psychology in all its ramifications, a wide knowledge of
technology with all its possibilities, weaponry, communications, strategy and
tactics,