Free Colossus and Crab by D. F. Jones Page A

greater part from the vestigial portion which rules your world.”
    “You mean -” He hesitated, the choice of words was vital. “- for us, Colossus lives?”
    “We have wiped all records of higher mathematics and astronomy which were in Earthcontrol. They are unnecessary. Otherwise, yes. We see you need the machine to operate your complex activities, and control is necessary if you are to serve us.”
    That made sense.
    “We have imprinted our requirements. There should be now no delay in meeting them.”
    “Ah,” said Forbin guardedly. ” So you have no objection to me activating our limited facility?”
    “None.”
    Forbin called Power, Input, and Flow Control, using video. As each answered, he felt a pang of remorse that they had been left to sweat it out. It showed in their faces. “Power, how long before you can reactivate Colossus?”
    Stony-faced himself, he watched amazement grow on the Duty Engineer’s face.
    “Well, I’d guess -“
    “I don’t want guesses!” Input and Flow would be listening; he had to kill off any chat, with those sightless, all-seeing eyes behind him.
    “Sorry, sir. I can give you emergency power in a coupla minutes, and swing over to main power in around -“
    “Do it!” He snapped over to Input. “As soon as power is on, feed in all the backlog - I know there’s a lot of it - but do not bother with astronomy, astrophysics, or allied subjects. They will be rejected. Report progress in one hour.”
    “Yes, Father.”
    “Flow, wait.” He switched off, inwardly cursing his clumsiness. He addressed the Martians. “Will Colossus speak?”
    “No. A printout is sufficient for your needs.”
    He turned quickly to hide his bitter disappointment. “Flow, we’re back to printout. Nothing is to be routed to Sect centers, otherwise as routine. My printers here and in my office will be on, but I only want nonroutine material. Is that understood?” He prayed fervently that it was.
    His prayer was answered; the Duty Flow Controller was a genuinely impassive Chinese. “Yes, Director. Understood.”
    “Power Control here. Power on and running!”
    “Thank you. All stations: I will make test call. Monitor.”
    His hands shook over the keyboard. Something simple, something which would not show his thoughts to the Martians; they could have fixed a bug… .
    Irresolution left him. He typed:
    REPORT WORLD POPULATION.
    Instantly the teletype clattered back:
    4,145,273,140 UPDATED TO 232359Z.
    Forbin shut his eyes. That last bit showed Colossus knew he was out of date: it was now the twenty-fifth.
    “All stations: we have opcon. Carry on.”
    Ignoring their acknowledgments, he turned away from the console. Colossus might be back, but he was a child of two compared with what had once been.
    “You are satisfied?”
    Reluctantly Forbin agreed.
    “We suggest you examine our imprint. Work must commence as soon as possible.”
    “Ah, yes - the Collector.” Forbin was even more reluctant. He could rely on the various divisions to get overall control moving - met, population supervision, global food organization, and the rest - but he wanted to sound out Colossus, to evaluate what had been returned to man. Yet lacking any alternative, he ordered the imprint to be screened.
    It proved to be a more detailed version of the projection he had been shown by the Martians. He studied it carefully; no dimensions were given, only ratios, proportions. For fifteen minutes he worked, rotating the diagram through three hundred sixty degrees in horizontal and vertical planes.
    He sniffed, a mannerism any of his staff could have explained in no time at all. “Interesting.” He could not rid himself of his childhood memories of the Mad Professor on TV. “Can you give me an idea of its size?”
    “The sectional area at the entry of the first stage compressor must be sufficient for a throughput of one thousand cubic meters per second.”
    Forbin glared in disbelief. He swung back to the console, studied