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"Why did you let me come here?"
She shrugged and lied. "For the atmosphere. You won't find a
more appropriate setting anywhere in the city. Siskin's taste,
such as it is, can't be beat."
When she headed back for the bar I caught her arm. She turned,
swayed slightly and stared piercingly into my eyes.
"I gave you a warning once before when I wasn't supposed to,"
she said. "Have another on the house. You don't want to have
anything to do with me. I brought you up here so you'd realize
that for yourself."
Despite my own compelling purpose for calling on her, I found
myself being drawn involuntarily into the enigma of Dorothy Ford.
And, with a sense of pity, I wondered what strange requirement
of special programing was responsible for her character.
"When was Siskin here last?" I asked.
"Two years ago."
"And you're disappointed?"
Indignation flared in her eyes and she snapped my head aside
with a stinging slap. She went over to the chaise contour and
buried her face in its cushioned depths.
I followed. "I'm sorry, Dorothy."
"Don't be. I went in with my eyes open."
"No you didn't. That's obvious. What happened?"
She looked up and stared through the Antony-Cleopatra mural. "I
often imagine I have no more power of self-determination than
one of the characters in your machine. There are times when I
feel like one of them. I even have horrible dreams about Siskin
Simulacron Three 114
sitting in front of Simulacron-3 and making me perform like a
puppet."
I knew then that Dorothy Ford couldn't be the Contact Unit. The
last thing such an agent would do would be to hint, however
remotely, at the true circumstances of reality. Instead, she had
hit the nail almost on the head.
"No," she went on distantly. "I'm no nymphomaniac. There's
been only Siskin. You see, my father is one of the corporate
directors of the Establishment. And Dad will continue to be the
financial genius he imagines he is only as long as I hop through
Siskin's hoop."
"You mean your father's a success only because you "
She nodded miserably. "That's the only reason. When Siskin
took him in five years ago, Dad was recovering from a heart
attack. He couldn't survive the knowledge of what the set-up has
been."
She started as the door buzzer sounded. I went over and flicked
on the one-way video screen.
The man in the corridor had a pad ready when he identified
himself. "James Ross, CRM Number 2317-B3. For Miss Dorothy
Ford."
It was most coincidental that just when I was trying to establish
whether Dorothy was the Contact Unit a monitor should appear.
"Miss Ford is ill," I said. "She can't see anyone."
"Sorry, sir. But I'll have to stand on my RM Code rights."
Then I remembered what I had seen on entering the apartment.
"If you look above the pickup lens, Mr. Ross, you'll notice a
certificate that says Miss Ford holds a special Evening
Exemption."
Hardly glancing up, he grimaced in disappointment. "Sorry, sir. I
didn't see it."
After I turned the screen off, I stood there for a long while with
my hand on the switch. An honest mistake? Or was ARM
involved in some special way in the Upper Reality's designs on
me?
I went over to the bar, the faint beginnings of logical realization
trying to break through my confusion. Besides being programed
by the Higher World Operator, the Association of Reaction
Simulacron Three 115
Monitors was in excellent position to keep close watch over not
only me, but everybody else, if it wanted to.
Hadn't it been an anonymous pollster who had warned me, "For
God's sake, Hall . . . forget about the whole damned thing"?
I dialed a drink, but left it sitting there in the delivery slot,
wondering whether the monitors themselves might not be
discharging some specific, unsuspected function in this
counterfeit world.
Then the answer burst in upon me: Of course! Why hadn't I
thought of it sooner? A simulectronic creation wouldn't exist as
an end in itself. It would have to have a raison d'etre, a primary
function. The analog community Fuller and I had created was
originally intended to forecast individual response as a means of
assessing the marketability of commercial products.
Similarly, but on a higher plane, our entire world, the
simulectronic creation in which I existed as an ID reactional unit,
was but a question-and-answer device for the edification of
producers, manufacturers, marketers, retailers in that Higher
Reality!
The reaction monitors comprised the system whereby the Upper
Operator asked His questions, introduced His stimuli! The
method was analogous to Fuller's own, cruder expedient of using [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]