Inter Ice Age 4 Page 2

  As usual the meeting place was on the second floor of the main building, but the atmosphere was completely different from that of the gatherings that had been held up till now, when we had tossed back and forth harmless jokes, like how it would be if we were to predict the time of divorce for newlyweds. Tomoyasu, the official from the Statistics Bureau who represented the government, was the first to stand and address us.

  “The present committee has inherited its former title, but you must consider it something altogether different. It is the unanimous consensus of the Cabinet ministers concerned to consider the period of research at an end for the time being and now to place with the committee the power of decision over program organization. This means that the forecasting machine will not be allowed to function without committee approval. Its independence will be respected in questions of research, but now that we are entering the stage of practical application, it is essential to begin by clarifying where responsibility lies. We shall henceforth adopt a policy of closed meetings. May I ask you all to observe this rule scrupulously.”

  Then a scrawny newcomer arose. He had some pretentious, not very clear rank. Apparently he was the private secretary of some minister. Nervously he bent his long, slender fingers.

  “Obviously the Americans seem to think that the Russians have a political interest in Moscow II. Moscow I excited our curiosity, and out of rivalry we were inevitably forced into the position of having to construct a forecasting machine too. That is precisely what we have done. [Why look at me?] Then, when it seemed we had really reached the stage of practical application, the Russians immediately put their machine to a political use. So we too began to feel nervous about not making political predictions. Let me put it this way, it’s as if we have with our own hands conjured up a forecaster-cum-spy. Just think about it a minute. We must not let ourselves be put at a disadvantage inadvertently. I urge you to bear this point in mind.”

  I asked for the floor. The Institute head looked at me anxiously out of the corner of his eye.

  “Well now, what’s going to happen to the program plans the members have been working on up to now? I presume, of course, that we should go on with them.”

  “What are they?” cried the scrawny fellow, peering at Tomoyasu’s papers.”

  “There were three maybe,” said Tomoyasu, hastily leafing through the papers and showing him.

  “Not three at all,” I rejoined. “Plan I was clearly decided on. It was a question of the speed of mechanization and the correlation between wages and the value of commercial commodities. But we hadn’t decided what factory to use as a model.”

  “Just a minute, Professor,” interrupted Tomoyasu. “The power of decision has shifted from this meeting to the committee. What’s been done up to now is out.”

  “But those plans have been all arranged, you realize.”

  “Too bad,” said the skinny fellow, puckering his lips and laughing. “They’re most inadvisable. They’re subtly related to political questions. I’m sure you understand.”

  The other committee members joined him in laughter. I personally didn’t see what was funny. I experienced, in fact, a feeling of apprehension.

  “I don’t understand. That’s absolutely the same as recognizing the victory of Moscow H, isn’t it?”

  “Come, come. That’s what they want us to think. You’ve got to be careful. Really!”

  Everyone present broke out laughing again. What a stupid committee. I no longer even felt like standing in opposition. I had no particular liking for politics. But if Plan I was out of the question, we should have to get to work and draw up an alternate one.

  “Well, now. Shall we go on to Plan II: What will the employment situation be after five years if we continue tightening credit at the present rate?”

  “That’s no good either, I think,” said the beanpole, looking around at the other members as if seeking their agreement. “Well, if it comes to that, everything’s related to politics.”

  “Mm. I wonder.”

  “Name something that isn’t.”

  “I’d like to get your opinion, Professor. It’s your speciality after all.”

  “Plan III: the inducement factor in the next general elections.”

  “Absurd! It’s the most unacceptable of anything up to now.”

  By the way, a committee member in attendance for the first time broke in uncertainly, “I’m not really convinced at all. As a matter of course you make a distinction between the case where you know the prediction and where you don’t. If a prediction is made and publicized, doesn’t that influence the future?

  “I’ve explained that a hundred times to the former committee.”

  Apparently I had spoken curtly, and Tomoyasu hastily offered his services to explain. “For example, in such a case, if one takes action on the basis of knowing one prediction, then another prediction has to be made. That is, a second prediction. And then if that is made public, a third one must be made, and so on ad infinitum. The last prediction is what we call the prediction of maximum value. You should understand that normally we select the mean between the first prediction and the final one.”

  “Impressive, you’ve thought the whole thing through quite thoroughly,” said the stupid committee member, nodding to me as if in admiration.

  “Look here, Katsumi,” murmured the Institute head appeasingly, “isn’t there a more suitable question, something to do with natural phenomena?”

  “If you want a weather forecast, you can get it at the Weather Bureau. Very simple to hitch up their calculator to our machine.”

  “Well then, something more complex ...”

  I remained silent, I could not bring myself to such a compromise. Damn it, let them justify themselves to Tanomogi and the others. How could I announce that the data we had accumulated within the last half year would now be useless?

  The question had nothing to do with natural phenomena or social phenomena, but how to handle the capacities of the forecasting machine that we had come this far with.

  The meeting was adjourned for the day with the understanding that I should think up some new plan for the next meeting in the light of the opinions that had been expressed. Henceforth, gatherings were held every other week, but every time the attendance declined, and the fourth time there remained only three of us: Tomoyasu, myself, and the thin fellow. Something definitely would be wrong with anyone who was not fed up with these boring meetings and their eternal leading questions.

  From the beginning Tanomogi demonstrated a clearly antagonistic attitude to the way the meetings went. After all, not coming to any decision was for the committee a way of escape that stemmed from their excessive desire to avoid what was controversial. We griped about it, yet we had our pride as technicians nonetheless and did not shirk our work. We desperately racked our brains to set up a program that would satisfy the committee. How many sleepless nights we spent in the days before each meeting.

  However, the more we worked, the more we realized how few areas were unrelated to politics. If, for example, we attempted to predict the extent of arable land, then that involved the problem of specialization of the farming class. If we tried to investigate the distribution of completely paved roads some years from now, then we became entangled in the national budget. It serves no purpose to go through all the examples, but every single suggestion in the twelve times the committee met was rejected.

  I was thoroughly disgusted. It was like a spider’s web: The more we tried to avoid politics, the more we became entangled in them. I had no particular intention of aligning myself with Tanomogi, but it was about time to try a defiant attitude.

  With this in mind, I purposely went to the next meeting with no plan. Of course, I did not forget to prick Tanomogi.

  “Let me remind you that I, unlike you, have no interest in politics.”

  The result of that meeting was my crestfallen retreat.

  5

  The telephone rang. It was Tomoyasu.

  “
Sir? Let me say I’m much obliged to you. In fact, I’ve been talking over a number of things with the Bureau chief since our meeting. [ Liar! It had been barely a half hour!] It looks as if things are going to be sticky if you don’t come up with some kind of new plan by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Sticky?”

  “We’ve got to inform the emergency meeting of the Cabinet tomorrow.”

  “And so you should. As I said before ...”

  “Well, then ...sir .. .I don’t know whether you’re aware of it or not, but one sector is of the opinion that the project should be closed down.”

  Had things come to this? Was I to hang my head meekly and every week keep turning out some useless plan? God, no! It was too late for that now. Should I rather erase the memory of the forecaster, put it back into its original state of stupidity, and hand over the reins to someone else?

  I glanced again at the scrapbooks on the shelf and arose, looking around at the machine. The blank pages cried out to be filled, and the machine did not know what to do with its capacities. As for Moscow II, it caused no subsequent trouble with predictions about foreign countries, but domestically it was consistently successful. I don’t know, was prediction, as far as freedom is concerned, really as dangerous as all that? Or were we already caught up in psychological warfare? I wondered.

  It was hot .. . excessively hot. Unable to sit still, I went downstairs to visit the research lab. As I entered, voices in animated discussion suddenly fell silent. A red flush of confusion spread over Tanomogi's face. Judging from previous experience, he had been denouncing me. “Don’t get up ... please,” I said, seating myself in an empty chair. Then, though I had not intended to speak in such a manner, I suddenly broke out bitterly: “We’re closing down. I’ve just had a call.”

  “What do you mean? What went on at the meeting today, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Nothing especially. Same as usual. Talk, talk, talk. That’s all.”

  “I don’t understand .. . really. Have you finally admitted that we have no confidence in making political predictions?”

  “Not in the least. I’m full of confidence.”

  “Well then, do they say the machine can’t be trusted?”

  “I said so myself. Then they said: ‘You don’t trust something that hasn’t been used yet, do you?’”

  “Well then, damn it, why don’t they use it?”

  “A simple-minded answer would be just that. But thinking political prediction is possible is itself political in nature.” Even Tanomogi held his tongue in surprise. Why was he quiet? It wasn’t my idea. I wanted him to snap right back. Curiously, I was irritated by his silence.

  “In general, you know, this business of predicting the future is probably quite meaningless. What’s the use for us to know we’re going to die in due course anyway?”

  “But I’d like to avoid anything other than a natural death, if I can,” retorted Wada Katsuko. Sometimes this young woman was extremely common and at others terribly charming. Her weak point was the dark mole above her lips. When the light was right, it looked like a dribbling from her nose.

  “Can you still be happy, knowing you can’t avoid death? Anyhow, if we had realized that the project would be closed down sooner or later, do you think we would have expended so much time and effort in constructing the forecaster?”

  “But, sir, are they really going to close it down?”

  Typical of Tanomogi.

  “It doesn’t really matter. We should go right on making our predictions and putting the results under their noses,” said Aiba, playing his usual role of appeaser.

  “And supposing the results are the same as the ones announced by the Soviets?”

  “Impossible!” exclaimed Wada.

  “Does it make any difference if they are?” said Aiba.

  “All right, that’s enough. I don’t imagine there's a Communist among you?”

  “Sir? What do you mean by that?” Suddenly things had become complicated.

  “Well, they say that. I personally don’t think much about it?”

  “Ah ... I thought so?”

  “They’d be no match for you, sir?”

  Everyone laughed, as if in relief. I despised myself.

  “Is this business of closing down a joke then?”

  Smiling vaguely, I arose. As Tanomogi struck a match and held it out, I realized that I was holding a cigarette between my lips. Speaking so that only he could hear, I said: “Come up to the second floor afterwards.”

  Tanomogi gazed back at me, surprised. He had apparently taken my meaning at once.

  6

  “It’s true.” I suddenly realized what we had to do as I was talking with all of you?"

  The noise of the fan was really quite irksome.

  “I thought so. For some reason, it occurred to me too at just that time?"

  “Well then, you’ll help me? It’s going to mean sleepless nights. I don’t want the others to know too much yet.”

  “Certainly not?”

  Tanomogi and I at once removed the scrapbooks from the shelf, dismantled them, and began the work of reassembling them in such a way as to make them easily understandable to the machine. It must commit their contents to memory.

  “I’ve skimmed through these ideas a number of times. The machine was inclined to want to discuss them rather frequently.”

  “It’s self-consciousness?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. Anyway, if I can get it to understand its position, it will certainly think up a way of getting over this crisis by itself.”

  “But can it go that far on just these data?”

  “Further explanations will be necessary, of course. We’ll put them on tape later.”

  Wada brought in some sandwiches and beer for our supper.

  “Is there anything else you need?” she asked.

  “No, thank you. This is fine.”

  The hours passed quickly as we worked. Before we knew it, it was nine o’clock, then ten. Every once in a while we would cool our eyes with ice from the refrigerator.

  “Shall we have it commit the Moscow II predictions to memory too?”

  “Of course, we’ll have to. It’s an important tuning point when we shift from Book Three to Book Four.”

  “What address shall we feed the data to?”

  “Let’s make an intermediate reading, including all the news from Russia, shall we?”

  The results were most interesting. The first common item was that the forecaster in the Soviet Union was exceedingly active-that was clear from the outset. But what surprised us was the fact that the Moscow II prediction that the future would see a completely Communist society also showed on our machine.

  “Strange. What does the machine think a Communist society is?”

  “Well, it seems to have a general idea.”

  “Look and see whether there’s another address that reacts.”

  The machine, now in possession of the basic ideas, understood Communism in this way.

  Politics-Prediction- oo

  That is, Communism is the maximum prediction value, the ultimate political prediction which appears once one has complete knowledge of all predictions.

  I experienced a rather strained feeling, like a snake biting its own tail, but since the definition was different from a value judgment, there was no use in finding fault with the machine. I decided to push ahead in any event, and by the time I had fed in all the data on hand, it was well past three. I felt refreshed after I ate the sandwiches that had been brought in.

  “Well now. From what angle shall we have the machine assemble the program?”

  “What do you mean ‘from what angle’? We’re not that far along yet. Before we do that, I would first like the answer as to what data we still need to understand just how to deal with the committee.”

  It was annoying, time-consuming work. There was nothing to do but push ahead patiently by feel and intuition, by a kind of trial-and-error method. Before long, the window was fain
tly tinged with blue. A time when our fatigue was overwhelming. Since, when I remained motionless, I drifted into sleep, I alternated with Tanomogi. After a while, when I looked around, Tanomogi himself was already dozing.

  In the meantime, there was a faint response. At first I could not make out the sense. When I tried analyzing the two addresses which were producing mutual responses, I found that one was myself while the other appeared as a man. The prediction machine itself was, of course, me. The machine and a man? What could it ever mean? Just a minute. Wasn’t the vagueness of the response due to the fact that simple data were negating each other? Thereupon I tried suppressing something, leaving the response items as they were. When I did so, the reaction was greater. It was not only a question of suppression; wherever I erased, the reaction increased in the same way. But I was quite at a loss. What did it want to say?

  Suddenly I was aware that the very vagueness of the response was perhaps an answer to my question. A question I had asked without realizing it. The purpose of the programming that I had stated without being aware of it. If that was the case, what, in heaven’s name, was I trying to ask? It was obvious: Was there, or was there not, any possibility of breaking the resistance of the committee? If there was, the question was how to go about it.

  This was perhaps the answer to my question. If I accepted it as such, it was easy to understand. We must try a prediction about a man-a very private kind of man-made up of data that canceled out other data of a social nature, mutually negating each other, a prediction of a private future.

  Indeed, that was probably it. Apparently I had been taking the machine too lightly. It seemed that the forecaster possessed powers beyond my imagination. It was not unexpected that the child should surprise the parent, that the student should best the teacher.