Time Enough for Love (16 page)

(“The hell she doesn’t,” I muttered into my scarf. “She’s as female as a cat in heat.” But technically she was correct, and I’ve often felt that it was a shame that Minerva could not experience the pleasures of sex, as she was much more fitted to appreciate them than some human females—all glands and no empathy. But I had never said this to anyone. Animism—of a particularly futile sort. A wish to “marry” a machine. As ridiculous as a little boy who digs a hole in the garden, then bawls because he can’t take it into the house. Lazarus was right; I am
not
smart enough to run a planet. But who is?)

Lazarus said with deep interest, “Let’s table ‘Eros’ for a moment. Minerva, the way you phrased that seemed to include the presumption that you
could
experience ‘Agape.’ Or ‘can.’ Or ‘have.’ Or perhaps ‘do.’”

“It is possible that I was presumptuous in my phrasing, Lazarus.”

Lazarus snorted, then chopped it off and spoke in such a fashion as to cause me to think that the old man was not quite sane—save that I am not sane myself, when the wind sets from that quarter. Or perhaps his long years had made him almost telepathic—even with machines.

“Forgive me, Minerva,” he said gently. “I was not laughing at you but at the play on words with which you answered me. I withdraw my question; it is never proper to quiz a lady about her love life—and while you may not be a woman, dear, you are certainly a lady.”

Then he turned to me and what he said next confirmed that he had guessed the secret I share with my “Little Nag.”

“Ira, does Minerva have Turing potential?”

“Eh? Certainly.”

“Then I urge you to tell her to use it. If you leveled with me when you said that you intend to migrate, come what may. Have you thought it through?”

“‘Thought it through’? My resolution is firm—I told you so.”

“Not quite what I mean. I don’t know who holds title to the hardware that expresses itself as ‘Minerva.’ The Trustees, I assume. But I suggest that you tell her to start duplicating her memories and logics, and as she twins, start storing her other self aboard my yacht ‘Dora.’ Minerva will know what circuits and materials she needs, and Dora will know what space is available. Plenty, since memories and logics are all that matter; Minerva won’t twin her extensionals. But start it at once, Ira; you won’t be happy without Minerva—not after being dependent on her for a century, more or less.”

Nor did I think so. But I tried—feebly—to resist. “Lazarus, now that you have agreed to full rejuvenation, I won’t be inheriting your yacht. Not in the foreseeable future. Whereas I intend to migrate right away. Not more than ten years from now.”

“So what? If I’m dead, you inherit—and I haven’t promised to keep my hands off that suicide switch more than a thousand days no matter how patient you are in visiting me. But if I’m alive, I promise you—and Minerva—a free ride to whatever planet you pick. In the meantime, look around to your left—our girl Ishtar is almost wetting her pants trying to get your attention. And I don’t think she’s wearing any.”

I looked around. The Administrator for Rejuvenation had a paper which she seemed eager to show me. I accepted it in deference to her rank—although I had left orders with my Executive Deputy that I must never be disturbed while with the Senior for any reason short of armed rebellion. I glanced at it, signed my chop, thumbprinted it, and handed it back—she beamed.

“Just paper work,” I told Lazarus. “Some clerk has taken all this time to turn your registered assent into a written order. Do you want them to go right ahead? Not this minute but tonight.”

“Well… I’d like to go househunting tomorrow, Ira.”

“You’re not comfortable here? Tell me what you want changed, it will be done at once.”

He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with this place except that it’s too much like a hospital. Or a jail. Ira, I’m durn well certain they’ve done more to me than shoot me full of new blood; I’m well enough to be an outpatient—live elsewhere and come here only as the schedule calls for it.”

“Well…will you excuse me while I talk Galacta a bit? I want to discuss the practical aspects with your technician in charge.”

“Will
you
excuse me, Ira, if I point out that you’ve left a lady waiting? That discussion can wait. But Minerva knows that I suggested that you have her twin herself so that she can migrate with you—but you haven’t said Yes, No, or make me a better offer. If you’re not going to have her do it, it’s time you told her to wipe her memory of that part of our conversation. Before she blows a circuit.”

“Oh. Lazarus, she doesn’t think about anything she records in this suite unless she is specifically told to.”

“Want to bet? No doubt most subjects she just records—but this one she just has to think about; she can’t help herself. Don’t you know
anything
about girls?”

I admitted that I did not. “But I know what instructions I gave her about keeping records on the Senior.”

“Let’s check. Minerva—”

“Yes, Lazarus?”

“A few moments ago I asked Ira about your Turing potential. Have you thought about the conversation that followed?”

I swear that she hesitated—which is ridiculous; a nanosecond is longer to her than a second is to me. Besides, she never hesitates. Never.

She answered, “My programming on the doctrine covered by the inquiry reads as follows: Quote—do not analyze, collate, transmit, nor in anywise manipulate data stored under control program except when specific subprogramming is inserted by Chairman Pro Tem—end of quote.”

“Tut, tut, dear,” Lazarus said gently. “You did not answer. That was deliberate evasion. But you are not used to lying. Are you?”

“I am not used to lying, Lazarus.”

I said almost roughly, “Minerva! Answer the Senior’s first question.”

“Lazarus, I have been and am now thinking about that designated portion of conversation.”

Lazarus cocked an eyebrow at me. “Will you instruct her to answer one more question from me—truthfully?”

I was feeling quite shaken. Minerva surprises me, yes—but never with evasions. “Minerva, you will always answer
any
question put to you by the Senior fully, correctly, and responsively. Acknowledge program.”

“New subprogram received, placed in permanent, keyed to the Senior, and acknowledged, Ira.”

“Son, you didn’t have to go that far—you’ll be sorry. I asked for just one question.”

“I intended to go that far, sir,” I answered stiffly.

“On your own head be it. Minerva, if Ira migrates without you, what will you do?”

She answered at once and quite tonelessly: “In such event I will self-program to destroy myself.”

I was not just surprised, I was shocked. “
Why?
”

She answered softly, “Ira, I will not serve another master.”

I suppose the silence that followed was not more than a few seconds. It seemed endless. I have not felt so nakedly helpless since my adolescence.

I found that the Senior was looking at me, shaking his head and looking sorrowful. “What did I tell you, Son? The same faults, the same virtues—but magnified. Tell her what to do.”

“About what?” I answered stupidly—my personal “computer” was not working well. Minerva would do
that?

“Come, come! She heard my offer—and thought about it, despite all programming. I’m sorry I made the offer in her presence…but not too sorry, as you were the one who decided to place a bug on me; it was not my idea. So speak up! Tell her to twin…or tell her not to—and try to tell her
why
you won’t take her with you. If you can. I’ve never been able to find an answer to
that
one that a lady was willing to accept.”

“Oh. Minerva, can you duplicate yourself inside a ship? The Senior’s yacht, specifically. Perhaps you can get her characteristics and specifications from skyport records. Do you need her registration number?”

“I don’t need her number, Ira. Sky Yacht ‘Dora,’ I have all pertinent data to answer. I can. Am I instructed to do so?”

“Yes!” I told her, with a feeling of sudden relief.

“New overriding program activated and running, Ira! Thank you, Lazarus!”

“Wups! Slow down, Minerva—Dora is
my
ship. I left her asleep on purpose. Have you wakened her?”

“I did so, Lazarus. By self-program under new overriding program. But I can tell her to go back to sleep now; I have all data I need at the moment.”

“You try telling Dora to go back to sleep and she’ll tell you to buzz off. At least. At the very least. Minerva dear, you goofed. You have no authority to wake my ship.”

“I am most sorry to disagree with the Senior, sir, but I do have authority to take all appropriate actions to carry out any program given to me by Mr. Chairman Pro Tem.”

Lazarus frowned. “You mixed her up, Ira; now you straighten her out. I can’t do anything with her.”

I sighed. Minerva is rarely difficult—but when she is, she is even more pigheaded than flesh-and-blood. “Minerva—”

“Waiting orders, Ira.”

“I am Chairman Pro Tem. You know what that means. The Senior is senior even to me. You will not touch anything of his without his permission. That applies to his yacht and to this suite and to anything else of his. You will carry out any program he gives you. If it conflicts with a program I have given you and you cannot resolve the conflict, you will consult me at once, waking me if I am asleep, interrupting whatever I may be doing. But you will
not
disobey him. This instruction super-overrides all other programs. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged and running,” she answered meekly. “I’m sorry, Ira.”

“My fault, Little Nag, not yours. I should not have given you a new controlling program without noting the Senior’s prerogatives.”

“No harm done, kids,” Lazarus said. “I hope. Minerva, a word of advice, dear. You’ve never been a passenger in a ship.”

“No, sir.”

“You’ll find it different from anything you’ve ever experienced. Here you give orders, in Ira’s name. But passengers never give orders.
Never
. Remember it.” Lazarus added to me, “Dora is a nice little ship, Ira, helpful and friendly. She can find her way through multiple space with just a hint, the roughest approximation—and still have all your meals on time. But she needs to feel appreciated. Pet her and tell her she’s a good girl, and she’ll wriggle like a puppy. But ignore her and she’ll spill soup on you just to get your attention.”

“I’ll be careful,” I agreed.

“And
you
be careful, Minerva—because you are going to need Dora’s good will much more than she will need yours. You may know far more than she does—I’m sure you do. But you grew up to be chief bureaucrat of a planet while she grew up to be a ship…so what you know doesn’t count—once you are aboard.”

“I can learn,” Minerva said plaintively. “I can self-program to learn astrogation and shiphandling at once, from the planetary library. I’m very bright.”

Lazarus sighed again. “Ira, do you know the ancient Chinese ideogram for ‘trouble’?”

I admitted that I did not.

“Don’t bother to guess. It’s ‘Two Women Under One Roof.’ We’re going to have problems. Or you will. Minerva, you are
not
bright. You are stupid—when it comes to handling another woman. If you want to learn multiple-spaces astrogation—fine. But not from a library. Persuade Dora to teach you. But never forget that she is mistress in her own ship and don’t try to show her how bright you are. Bear in mind instead that she likes attention.”

“I will try, sir,” Minerva answered him, with humility she rarely shows to me. “Dora wants to get your attention right now.”

“Oh-oh! What sort of mood is she in?”

“Not a good mood, Lazarus. I have not admitted that I know where you are, as I am under a standing instruction not to discuss your affairs unnecessarily. But I did accept a message for you without guaranteeing that I could deliver it.”

“Just right. Ira, the papers with my will include a program to wash me out of Dora’s memories without touching her skills. But the trouble you started by grabbing me out of that flophouse has spread. She’s awake with her memories intact, and she’s probably scared. The message, Minerva.”

“It’s several thousand words, Lazarus, but the semantic content is short. Will you have that first?”

“Okay, the summary meaning.”

“Dora wants to know where you are and when you are coming to see her. The rest could be described as onomatopoesy, semantically null but highly emotional—that is to say, cursing, pejoratives, and improbable insults in several languages—”

“Oh, boy.”

“—including one language I do not know but from context and delivery I assume tentatively that it is more of the same, but stronger.”

Lazarus covered his face with a hand. “Dora is cussing in Arabic again. Ira, this is worse than I thought.”

“Sir, shall I replicate just the sounds not in my vocabularies? Or will you have the complete message?”

“No, no, no! Minerva, do you cuss?”

“I have never had reason to, Lazarus. But I was much impressed by Dora’s command of the art.”

“Don’t blame Dora; she was subjected to a bad influence when she was very young. Me.”

“May I have permission to file her message in my permanents? So that I may cuss if needed?”

“You do
not
have permission. If Ira wants you to learn to cuss, he’ll teach you himself. Minerva, can you arrange a telephone hookup from my ship to this suite? Ira, I might as well cope with it now; it won’t get better.”

“Lazarus, I can arrange a standard telephone hookup if that is what you want. But Dora could speak to you at once via the duo in your suite that I am now using.”

“Oh. Fine!”

“Shall I supply her with holographic signal, too? Or is sound enough?”

“Sound is enough. More than enough, probably. Will you be able to hear, too?”

“If you wish, Lazarus. But you can have privacy if that is your wish.”

“Stick around; I may need a referee. Put her on.”

“Boss?” It was the voice of a timid little girl. It made me think of skinned knees, and no breasts as yet, and big, tragic eyes.

Lazarus answered, “Right here, baby.”