Discussion board

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Discussion Board Assignment

The Feeling of Power

by Isaac Asimov

Jehan Shuman was used to dealing with the men in authority on long-embattled

earth. He was only a civilian but he originated programming patterns that resulted in

self-directing war computers of the highest sort. Generals, consequently listened to him.

Heads of congressional committees too.

There was one of each in the special lounge of New Pentagon. General Weider was

space-burned and had a small mouth puckered almost into a cipher. He smoked

Denebian tobacco with the air of one whose patriotism was so notorious; he could be

allowed such liberties. Shuman, tall, distinguished, and Programmer-first-class, faced

them fearlessly.

He said, "This, gentlemen, is Myron Aub." "The one with the unusual gift that you

discovered quite by accident," said Congressman Brant placidly. "Ah." He inspected the

little man with the egg-bald head with amiable curiosity. The little man, in return,

twisted the fingers of his hands anxiously. He had never been near such great men

before. He was only an aging low-grade technician who had long ago failed all tests

designed to smoke out the gifted ones among mankind and had settled into the rut of

unskilled labor.

There was just this hobby of his that the great Programmer had found out about and was

now making such a frightening fuss over.General Weider said, "I find this atmosphere of

mystery childish." "You won't in a moment," said Shuman. " This is not something we

can leak to the first comer. Aub!" There was something imperative about his manner of

biting off that one-syllable name, but then he was a great Programmer speaking to a

mere technician. "Aub! How much is nine times seven?"

Aub hesitated a moment. His pale eyes glimmered with a feeble anxiety. "Sixty-three,"

he said. Congressman Brant lifted his eyebrows. "Is that right?" "Check it for yourself,

Congressman." The congressman took out his pocket computer, nudged the milled edges

twice, looked at its face as it lay there in the palm of his hand, and put it back. He said,

"Is this the gift you brought us here to demonstrate. An illusionist?" "More than that, sir.

Aub has memorized a few operations and with them he computes on paper." "A paper

computer?" said the general. He looked pained. "No, sir," said Shuman patiently. "Not a

paper computer. Simply a piece of paper.”

General, would you be so kind as to suggest a number?" "Seventeen," said the general.

"And you, Congressman?" "Twenty-three." "Good! Aub, multiply those numbers, and

please show the gentlemen your manner of doing it."

"Yes, Programmer," said Aub, ducking his head. He fished a small pad out of one shirt

pocket and an artist's hairline stylus out of the other. His forehead corrugated as he made

painstaking marks on the paper.

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General Weider interrupted him sharply. "Let's see that." Aub passed him the paper, and

Weider said, "Well, it looks like the figure seventeen." Congressman Brant nodded and

said, "So it does, but I suppose anyone can copy figures off a computer. I think I could

make a passable seventeen myself, even without practice." "If you will let Aub continue,

gentlemen," said Shuman without heat. Aub continued, his hand trembling a little.

Finally he said in a low voice, "The answer is three hundred and ninety-one."

Congressman Brant took out his computer a second time and flicked it. "By Godfrey, so

it is. How did he guess?" "No guess, Congressman," said Shuman. "He computed that

result. He did it on this sheet of paper." "Humbug," said the general impatiently. "A

computer is one thing and marks on a paper are another." "Explain, Aub," said Shuman.

"Yes, Programmer. Well, gentlemen, I write down seventeen, and just underneath it I

write twenty-three. Next I say to myself: seven times three ----". The congressman

interrupted smoothly, "Now, Aub, the problem is seventeen times twenty-three." "Yes, I

know," said the little technician earnestly, "but I start by saying seven times three

because that's the way it works. Now seven times three is twenty-one."

"And how do you know that?" asked the congressman. "I just remember it. It's always

twenty-one on the computer. I've checked it any number of times." "That doesn't mean it

always will be, though, does it?" said the congressman. "Maybe not," stammered Aub.

"I'm not a mathematician. But I always get the right answers, you see." "Go on."

"Seven times three is twenty-one, so I write down twenty-one. Then one times three is

three, so I write down three under the two of twenty-one." "Why under the two?" asked

Congressman Brant at once. "Because---", Aub looked helplessly at his superior for

support. "It's difficult to explain." Shuman said, "If you will accept his work for the

moment, we can leave the details for the mathematicians." Brant subsided.

Aub said, "Three plus two makes five, you see, so the twenty-one becomes a fifty-one.

Now you let that go for a while and start fresh. You multiply seven and two, that's

fourteen, and one and two, that's two. Put them down like this and it adds up to thirty-

four. Now if you put the thirty-four under the fifty-one this way and add them, you get

three hundred and ninety-one, and that's the answer." There was an instant's silence and

then General Weider said, "I don't believe it. He goes through this rigmarole and makes

up numbers and multiplies and adds them this way and that, but I don't believe it. It's too

complicated to be anything but horn-swoggling." "Oh no, sir," said Aub in a sweat. "It

only seems complicated because you're not used to it. Actually the rules are quite simple

and will work for any numbers."

"Any numbers, eh?" said the general. "Come, then." He took out his own computer (a

severely styled GI model) and struck it at random. "Make a five seven three eight on the

paper. That's five thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight."

"Yes, sir," said Aub, taking a new sheet of paper. "Now"---more punching of his

computer---"seven two three nine. Seven thousand two hundred and thirty-nine."

"Yes, sir." "And now multiply those two." "It will take some time," quavered Aub.

"Take the time," said the general. "Go ahead, Aub," said Shuman crisply.

Aub set to work, bending low. He took another sheet of paper and another. The general

took out his watch finally and stared at it. "Are you through with your magic-making,

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Technician?" "I'm almost done, sir. Here it is, sir. Forty-one million, five hundred and

thirty-seven thousand, three hundred and eighty-two."

He showed the scrawled figures of the result. General Weider smiled bitterly. He pushed

the multiplication contact on his computer and let the numbers whirl to a halt. And then

he stared and said in a surprised squeak, "Great Galaxy, the fella's right."

The President of the Terrestrial Federation had grown haggard in office and, in private,

he allowed a look of settled melancholy to appear on his sensitive features. The

Denebian War, after its early start of vast movement and great popularity, had trickled

down into a

sordid matter of maneuver and counter-maneuver, with discontent rising steadily on

earth. Possibly, it was rising on Deneb, too.

And now Congressman Brant, head of the important Committee on Military

Appropriations, was cheerfully and smoothly spending his half-hour appointment

spouting nonsense.

"Computing without a computer," said the president impatiently,"is a contradiction in

terms." "Computing," said the congressman "is only a system for handling data. A

machine might do it, or the human brain might. Let me give you an example." And,

using the new skills he had learned, he worked out sums and products until the

president, despite himself, grew interested.

"Does this always work?" "Every time, Mr. President. It is foolproof." "Is it hard to

learn?" "It took me a week to get the real hang of it. I think you would do better."

"Well," said the president, considering, "it's an interesting parlor game, but what is the

use of it?" "What is the use of a newborn baby, Mr. President? At the moment there is

no use, but don't you see that this points the way toward liberation from the machine.

Consider, Mr. President" ---the congressman rose and his deep voice automatically took

on some of the

cadences he used in public debate--- "that the Denebian War is a war of computer

against computer. Their computers forge an impenetrable shield of countermissiles

against our missiles, and ours forge one against theirs. If we advance the efficiency of

our computers, so do they theirs, and for five years a precarious and profitless balance

has existed.

"Now we have in our hands a method for going beyond the computed, leapfrogging it,

passing through it. We will combine the mechanics of computation with human thought;

we will have the equivalent of intelligent computers, billions of them. I can't predict

what the consequences will be in detail, but they will be incalculable. And if Deneb

beats us to the punch, they may be unimaginably catastrophic."

The president said, troubled, "What would you have me do?" "Put the power of the

administration behind the establishment of a secret project on human computation. Call

it Project Number, if you like. I can vouch for my committee, but I will need the

administration behind me." "But how far can human computation go?" "There is no

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limit. According to Programmer Shuman, who first introduced me to this discovery---"

"I've heard of Shuman, of course." "Yes. Well, Dr. Shuman tells me that in theory there

is

nothing the computer can do that the human mind cannot do. The computer merely takes

a finite amount of data and performs a finite amount of operations on them. The human

mind can duplicate the process."

The president considered that. He said, "If Shuman says this, I am inclined to believe

him---in theory. But, in practice, how can anyone know how a computer works?" Brant

laughed genially. "Well, Mr. President, I asked the same question. It seems that at one

time computers were designed directly by human beings. Those were simple computers,

of course, this being before the time of the rational use of computers to design more

advanced computers had been established." "Yes, yes. Go on." "Technician Aub

apparently had, as his hobby, the reconstruction of some of these ancient devices, and in

so doing he studied the details of their workings and found he could imitate them.

The multiplication I just performed for you is an imitation of the workings of a

computer." "Amazing!" The congressman coughed gently. "If I may make another point,

Mr. President---the further we can develop this thing, the more we can divert our federal

effort from computer production and computer maintenance. As the human brain takes

over, more of our energy can be directed into peacetime pursuits and the impingement of

war on the ordinary man will be less. This will be most advantageous for the party in

power, of course." "Ah," said the president, "I see your point. Well, sit down

Congressman, sit down. I want some time to think about this. But meanwhile, show me

that multiplication trick again. Let's see if I can't catch the point of it."

Programmer Shuman did not try to hurry matters. Loesser was conservative, very

conservative, and liked to deal with computers as his father and grandfather had. Still, he

controlled the West European computer combine, and if he could be persuaded to join

Project Number in full enthusiasm, a great deal would be accomplished. But Loesser

was holding back. He said, "I'm not sure I like the idea of relaxing our hold on

computers. The human mind is a capricious thing. The computer will give the same

answer to the same problem each time. What guarantee have we that the human mind

will do the same?" "The human mind, Computer Loesser, only manipulates facts. It

doesn't matter whether the human mind or a machine does it. They are just tools."

"Yes, yes. I've gone over your ingenious demonstration that the mind can duplicate the

computer, but it seems to me a little in the air. I'll grant the theory, but what reason have

we for thinking that theory can be converted to practice?" "I think we have reason, sir.

After all, computers have not always existed. The cavemen with their triremes, stone

axes, and railroads had no computers." "And possibly they did not compute." "You

know better than that. Even the building of a railroad or a ziggurat called for some

computing, and that must have been without computers as we know them." "Do you

suggest they computed in the fashion you demonstrate?" "Probably not. After all, this

method---we call it 'graphitics,' by the way, from the old European word 'grapho,'

meaning 'to write'---is developed from the computers themselves, so it cannot have

antedated them. Still, the cave men must have had some method, eh?"

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"Lost arts! If you're going to talk about lost arts---" "No, no. I'm not a lost art enthusiast,

though I don't say there may not be some. After all, man was eating grain before

hydroponics, and if the primitives ate grain, they must have grown it in soil. What else

could they have done?" "I don't know, but I'll believe in soil growing when I see

someone grow grain in soil. And I'll believe in making fire by rubbing two pieces of flint

together when I see that too." Shuman grew placative. "Well, let's stick to graphitics.

It's just part of the process of etherealization. Transportation by means of bulky

contrivances is giving way to mass transference. Communications devices become less

massive and more efficient constantly. For that matter, compare your pocket computer

with the massive jobs of a thousand years ago.

Why not, then, the last step of doing away with computers altogether? Come, sir, Project

Number is a going concern; progress is already headlong. But we want your help.

If patriotism doesn't move you, consider the intellectual adventure involved."

Loesser said skeptically, "What progress? What can you do beyond multiplication? Can

you integrate a transcendental function?" "In time, sir. In time. In the last month, I have

learned to handle division. I can determine, and correctly, integral quotients and decimal

quotients." "Decimal quotients? To how many places?" Programmer Shuman tried to

keep his tone casual. "Any number!" Loesser's jaw dropped. "Without a computer?"

"Set me a problem."

"Divide twenty-seven by thirteen. Take it to six places." Five minutes later Shuman

said, "Two point oh seven six nine two three." Loesser checked it. "Well, now, that's

amazing. Multiplication didn't impress me too much because it involved integers, after

all, and I thought trick manipulation might do it. But decimals---" "And that is not all.

There is a new development that is, so far, top secret and which, strictly speaking, I

ought not to mention. Still---we may have made a break-through on the square root

front."

"Square roots?" "It involves some tricky points and we haven't licked the bugs yet, but

Technician Aub, the man who invented the science and who has amazing intuition in

connection with it, maintains he has the problem almost solved. And he is only a

technician. A man like yourself, a trained and talented mathematician, ought to have no

difficulty." "Square roots," muttered Loesser, attracted. "Cube roots, too. Are you with

us?" Loesser's hand thrust out suddenly. "Count me in."

General Weider stumped his way back and forth at the head of the room and addressed

his listeners after the fashion of a savage teacher facing a group of recalcitrant students.

It made no difference to the general that they were the civilian scientists heading Project

Number. The general was over-all head, and he so considered himself at every waking

moment. He said, "Now square roots are fine. I can't do them myself and I don't

understand the methods, but they're fine. Still, the project will not be sidetracked into

what some of you call the fundamentals. You can play with graphitics any way you want

to after the war is over, but right now we have specific and very practical problems to

solve."

In a far corner Technician Aub listened with painful attention. He was no longer a

technician, of course, having been relieved of his duties and assigned to the project, with

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a fine-sounding title and good pay. But, of course, the social distinction remained, and

the highly placed scientific leaders could never bring themselves to admit him to their

ranks on a footing of equality. Nor, to do Aub justice, did he, himself, wish it. He was as

uncomfortable with them as they with him.

The general was saying, "Our goal is a simple one, gentlemen---the replacement of the

computer. A ship that can navigate space without a computer on board can be

constructed in one-fifth the time and at one-tenth the expense of a computer-laden ship.

We could build fleets five times, ten times, as great as Deneb could if we could but

eliminate the computer.

"And I see something even beyond this. It may be fantastic now, a mere dream, but in

the future I see the manned missile!" There was an instant murmur from the audience.

The general drove on. "At the present time our chief bottleneck is the fact that missiles

are limited in intelligence. The computer controlling them can only be so large, and for

that

reason they can meet the changing nature of anti-missile defenses in an unsatisfactory

way. Few missiles, if any, accomplish their goal, and missile warfare is coming to a

dead end, for the enemy, fortunately, as well as for ourselves. "On the other hand, a

missile with a man or two within, controlling flight by graphitics, would be lighter, more

mobile,

more intelligent. It would give us a lead that might well mean the margin of victory.

Besides which, gentlemen, the exigencies of war compel us to remember one thing. A

man is much more dispensable than a computer. Manned missiles could be launched in

numbers and under circumstances that no good general would care to undertake as far as

computer-directed missiles are concerned . . ." He said much more, but Technician Aub

did not wait.

Technician Aub, in the privacy of his quarters, labored long over the note he was leaving

behind. It read finally as follows: "When I began the study of what is now called

graphitics, it was no more than a hobby. I saw no more in it than an interesting

amusement, an exercise of mind. "When Project Number began, I thought that others

were wiser than I, that graphitics might be put to practical use as a benefit to mankind, to

aid in the production of really practical mass-transference devices perhaps. But now I

see it is to be used only for death and destruction. "I cannot face the responsibility

involved in having invented graphitics." He then deliberately turned the focus of a

protein depolarizer on himself and fell instantly and painlessly dead.

They stood over the grave of the little technician while tribute was paid to the greatness

of his discovery. Programmer Shuman bowed his head along with the rest of them but

remained unmoved. The technician had done his share and was no longer needed, after

all. He might have started graphitics, but now that it had started, it would carry on by

itself overwhelmingly, triumphantly, until manned missiles were possible with who

knew what else.

Nine times seven, thought Shuman with deep satisfaction, is sixty-three, and I don't need

a computer to tell me so. The computer is in my own head. And it was amazing the

feeling of power that gave him.