When HARLIE Was One by David Gerrold Page A

what you mean.” And he felt like a damn fool doing it . . .
    He could have held it, but she giggled.
    The ice cracked then and he laughed too. He spread his hands apologetically. “All right, you got me. Yeah, I’m—sitting here feeling frustrated and pissed and . . . and I don’t know what.” And then he did know, and the dam broke and he blurted out quickly, “Yes, I do. I feel trapped. I feel like I’ve been working my ass off and nobody cares. Everybody wants something from me. They’re all gimme pigs. You know what a ‘gimme pig’ is? ‘Gimme, gimme, gimme . . .’ Only nobody’s giving me anything. I’m feeling like I’m out here all alone—”
    He stopped himself abruptly and looked across at her. Who was she anyway? Annie Stimson, corporate executive secretary. What did that mean? Should he trust her? Had he said too much already?
    He corrected himself quickly, “I’m okay. I’m just annoyed. Give me a little time and I’ll . . . be back to normal.’’
    â€œMm-hm,” she said, very noncommittally. She was studying him curiously, a faint smile on her lips.
    He looked back at her, shyly at first, then with a very real curiosity of his own. Her auburn hair was a cascade of sunshine and embers. He liked the way the light reflected off it, sparkling shades of shimmering gold and red when she moved her head. He wondered what it would be like to stroke it. Like silk perhaps?
    Her eyes were green, very green.
    Abruptly, he grinned. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
    She shook her head. Her smile was impish. “Nope. Not a word.”
    He dropped his gaze; it was getting too intense. “The truth is, I’m scared. I’m terrified that somebody’s going to turn off HARLIE before we’ve had a chance to find out what he’s really capable of. And that would be so wrong. Maybe you can’t see it in the boardroom, but some of us downstairs are up against it every day. This whole—” he spread his hands wide, “— thing is too important to just simply abandon.” And then he realized how silly that must sound to her, so he added, “Well, to me, anyway.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œDo you?” He looked at her again.
    She didn’t answer. She only returned his gaze. For the first time he noticed the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. How old was she anyway? He returned to the study of his coffee cup. “Maybe I shouldn’t be saying any of this—I mean, not to you. I mean, maybe you’re one of them. Sorry, but—”
    She shook her head. “Don’t apologize. You’d be a damn fool not to suspect it. Maybe I did sit down here to pump you for information. And maybe I sat down here because I’m honestly curious about HARLIE. I could tell you that I’m really just curious, but I could be lying, couldn’t I? So, you’re just going to have to trust your own judgment, aren’t you?” She met his eyes unashamedly.
    â€œUh, right—” Auberson was a little startled at her straightforwardness. He didn’t know what to say. He shrugged. “The hell with it. I don’t have anything to hide. I’ll tell you the truth. If HARLIE were just a machine, it would be a whole other thing. I might even be on Elzer’s side. I hate the idea of megalithic machinery, of projects out of control—of waste. If HARLIE were that, I wouldn’t be here, couldn’t be here. But he’s not. The truth is that HARLIE is like a . . . a . . . I know it sounds hard to accept—but he’s alive. He’s a person. A being that thinks and feels and perhaps even cares. He’s alive! And he’s . . . like a child to me, a son.”
    â€œI know.” She said it gently.
    â€œDo you?” Auberson wanted to believe. “Do you really ?”
    â€œNow it’s my turn to trust you. I’ll