Free When HARLIE Was One by David Gerrold Page A

that behavior too. Wouldn’t it?”
    â€œShit,” said Handley. “You’re right.”
    â€œDo you think I’m happy about it?” Auberson said to his friend. “The only certainty I have, I can’t prove. And the only way I can justify what I know is the right course of action—is to be paranoid as hell. This whole thing . . . does not make me feel good about being human .”
    â€œI’m a little sick myself.”
    â€œThis whole issue of artificial intelligence, Don—it’s nasty. And it’s going to get nastier. Because it’s not about the machines any more. It’s about us . Because we’re not going to resolve any of our questions about the machine’s aliveness unless we also test ourselves in the same crucible. What’s at issue here is . . . the measure of a human soul.”
    Handley let his breath out in a sigh. His shoulders sagged. “I knew we were heading for this. I really did know. I just didn’t want to admit it.” He looked up sadly. “This wasn’t what I signed on for, Aubie. Not this. Not playing God.”
    â€œMe neither.”
    There was silence for a moment. The moment stretched uncomfortably. Auberson looked away, looked at the ceiling, the floor. This was another one of those Now what? moments. It was the biggest Now what? of all. He cleared his throat, just to be making a noise.
    Handley spoke first. “On the other hand,” he suggested cautiously. “If we are playing God here . . .”
    â€œ. . . What?”
    â€œThen we have the right, as well as the power, to pull his plug. . . .”
    Auberson stared. The thought was hideous. But—inescapable. And then he laughed. “Sorry, Don. That argument would also give your momma the right to snuff you if you brought home a bad report card. The mere fact of being a parent does not automatically carry with it the right to stop the life you created.”
    â€œSo, we’re stuck with him, huh?”
    â€œAnd he with us.” Auberson said.
    â€œHuh—?”
    Auberson and Handley both realized the horror of the joke at the same time—
    â€œHARLIE of the apes,” said Auberson, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Think of it, Don. If he’s real—and I think he is—then the poor little guy’s a feral child, an orphan—he has no role models except us, and we’re no more ready to teach him what he needs to know than poor Kala was to teach Tarzan how to be a human. We’ll do our best, but our best will only be the equivalent of him swinging through the trees and pounding on his chest.”
    â€œThe poor little guy,” said Handley. “I almost feel sorry for him.”
    â€œSorry?” Auberson considered it. “Yes, I suppose so.”
    â€œYou were feeling something else?”
    Auberson nodded. “As one of the other denizens of the same jungle, I was allowing myself a moment of stark terror.”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œI was just remembering what happened to everybody else in the Burroughs books. It wasn’t always a terrific neighborhood to live in if you were just a spear carrier. I think—” said Auberson slowly, “—that our most important course of action must be to civilize HARLIE as quickly as we can.”
    Handley blinked in surprise. “You can’t be serious—” he started to say, and then he allowed himself to break into a nervous laugh. “Y’know, the trouble with you, Aubie, is that I never know if you’re joking or not.”
    Auberson looked at Handley calmly. “Joke?” he said. “Uh-uh. This one is definitely not a joke.”
PROJECT
:     AI – 9000
DIRECTORY
:     SYMLOG\OBJ\TEXT\ENGLISH
PATH
:     CONVERSE\PRIV\AUB
FILE
:     HAR.SOTE \ 233.53h
DATESTAMP
:     [DAY 203] August 5, 003 + 13:24 pm.
SOURCE
:     HARLIE \