 2 plus 2 makes crazy by Walt Sheldon. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Greg Marguerite. 2 plus 2 makes crazy by Walt Sheldon. The computer could do no wrong. Then it was asked a simple little question by a simple little man. The little man had a head like an old fashioned light bulb and a smile that seemed to say he had secrets from the rest of the world. He didn't talk much, just an occasional, oh, hmm, ah. Creighton figured he must be all right, though. After all, he'd been sent to Computer City by the information department itself and his credentials must have been checked in a hundred ways and places. Essentially each computer is the same, said Creighton, but adjusted to translate problems into the special terms of the division it serves. Creighton had a pleasant, well-balanced, impersonal voice. He was in his thirties and mildly handsome. He considered himself a master of the technique of building a career in Computer City. He knew how to stay within the limits of directives and regulations and still make decisions, or rather to relay computer decisions that kept his responsibility to a minimum. Now Creighton spoke easily and freely to the little man. As public liaison officer, he had explained the computer system hundreds of times. He knew it like a tech manual. But is there any real central control, say, in case of a breakdown or something of that sort? The little man's voice was dry as lava ash, dry as the wastes between and beyond the cities. Tantor was the name he'd given. Mr. Tantor, his contact lenses were so thick they made his eyes seem to bulge grotesquely. He had a faint stoop and wore a black tunic which made his look like one of the reconstructed models of prehistoric birds called crows that Creighton had seen in museums. Of course, of course, said Creighton, answering the question, it's never necessary to use the ALL circuit, but we could very easily in case of a great emergency. The ALL circuit? What is that, Mr. Tantor asked? Creighton gestured and led the little man down the long control bank. Their steps made precise clicks on the leoplast floor. The stainless steel walls threw back tinny echoes. The chromium molding glistened, always pointing the way, the straight and mathematical way. They were in the topmost section of the topmost building of Computer City. The several hundred clean solid wedding cake structures of the town could be seen from the Poliflex window. The ALL circuit puts every machine in the city to work on any selection problem that's fed into our master control here. Each machine will give its answer in its own special terms, but actually they will all work on the same problem. To use a grossly simple example, let us say we wish to know the results of two and two. But we wish to know it in terms of total security. That is, we wish to know that two plus two means twice as many nourishment units for the Department of Foods, twice as many weapons for the Department of War, but is perhaps not necessarily true according to the current situational adjustment in the Department of Public Information. At any rate, we would set up our problem on the master, pushing the button two, then the button plus, and the button two again, as on a primitive adding machine. Then we would merely throw the ALL switch. A short time later the total answer to our problem would be relayed back from every computer. And the cross comparison factors cancelled out, so that we would have the result in terms of the familiar verdict statement. And as everyone knows, the electronically filed verdict statements make the complete record of directives for the behavior of our society. Very interesting said Mr. Tantor, the little crow-like man. He blinked rapidly, stared at the switch, marked all that Creighton was pointing out to him. Creighton now folded his hands in front of his official golden black tunic, looked up into the air, and rocked gently back and forth on his heels as he talked. He was really talking to himself now, although he seemed to address Tantor. You can see that the computer system is quite under our control, in spite of what these rebellious underground groups say. Underground groups asked Mr. Tantor mildly. Just his left eye seemed to blink this time, and the edge of his mouth gave the various twitch. Oh, you know, said Creighton, the organization that calls itself the prims—prim for primitive. They leave little cards and pamphlets around damning the computer system. I saw one the other day it had a big title splashed across it. Our new tyrant, the computer! The article complained that some of the new labor and food regulations were the result of conscious reasoning on the part of the computer. Devices to build the computer bigger and bigger and bigger at the expense of ordinary workers, you know, that sort of thing. But it is true that the living standard is going down all the time, isn't it? Asked Mr. Tantor, keeping his ephemeral smile. What about those three thousand starvation deaths up in Hydroburg? Creighton waved an impatient hand. There will always be problems like that here and there. He turned and stared almost reverently at the long control rack. Be thankful we have the computer to solve them. But the deaths were due to diverting that basic carbon shipment down here to Computer City for computer building, weren't they? Now, there, you see how powerful the propaganda of the prims can be. Creighton put his hands on his hips. That statement is not true. It simply isn't true at all. It was analyzed on the computer some days ago. Here, let me show you. He took several steps down the corridor again and stopped at another panel. We first collected from the various departments, food, production, labor, and so forth, all the possible causes of the starvation deaths in Hydroburg. Computer administration had its machine translate them into symbols. We're getting a huge new plant and machine addition over at administration, by the way. At any rate, we simply registered all the possible causes with the master computer through in this circuit marked Validity Selector. Out of all those causes, the computer picked the one that was most valid. The Hydroburg tragedy was due to lack of foresight on the part of Hydroburg's planners. If they'd had a proper stockpile of basic carbon, the thing never would have happened. But no community ever stockpiled, said the little man. That, said Creighton, doesn't alter the fundamental fact. The computer never lies. He drew himself up stiffly as he said this, then abruptly he consulted the chronometer on the far wall. Excuse me just a moment, Mr. Tantor, he said. It's time to feed the daily tax computation from finance. We have to start a little earlier on that these days. The new taxes, you know. As Creighton moved off, Tantor's thin smile widened just a little. As soon as Creighton was out of sight, he stepped with his odd crow-like stride to the numerical panel. Punched two plus two, then adjusted the operations pointer to hold. After that, he punched three plus one and hold once more. He moved over to the Validity Selector, switched the numerical panel in, closed the circuit. In his dry voice, he murmured to the whole control rack, three plus one makes four, two plus two makes four, three plus one, two plus two, tell me which is really true. All through the master computer relays clicked and tubes glowed as the problem was sent to all the subcomputers in their own special terms. Food, production, labor, public information, war, peace, education, science, and so forth. All over Computer City, the solenoids moved their contacts and the filaments turned cherry red. Oscillating circuits hummed silently to themselves in perfect cue. The life warmth of hysteresis pulsed and throbbed along wires and channels. Three plus one, two plus two, tell me which is really true. The problem crisscrossed in and out, around about. Checking, cross-checking, rechecking as the computer thought about the problem. Which was really true. Even before Creighton returned, parts of the computer had begun to get red hot. It hummed in some places and in other places relays going back and forth in indecision made an unhealthy rattling noise. Little Mr. Tantor beamed happily to himself as he recalled the words of an old directive the computer itself had issued in the matter of public thought control. When a brain is faced with two absolutely equal alternatives, complete breakdown invariably results. Mr. Tantor kept smiling and rocked back and forth on his feet as Creighton had done. Before nightfall the computer would be a useless and overheated mass of plastic and metal. He took a printed folder from his pocket and casually dropped it on the floor where someone would be sure to find it. It was one of the pamphlets the prims were always leaving around. End of 2 plus 2 makes crazy by Walt Sheldon.