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“No,” said Rajcik, “as long as we don’t pin any hopes on it.”

“That’s right. We don’t dare hope. Mr. Watkins, I believe this is your department.”

“Oh, what’s the use?” Watkins asked. “You say don’t hope—but both of you are hoping anyhow! You think the big electronic god is going to save your lives. Well, it’s not!”

“We have to try,” Somers told him.

“We don’t! I wouldn’t give it the satisfaction of turning us down!”

THEY stared at him in vacant astonishment.

“Now you’re implying that machines think,” said Rajcik.

“Of course I am,” Watkins said. “Because they do! No, I’m not out of my head. Any engineer will tell you that a complex machine has a personality all its own. Do you know what that personality is like? Cold, withdrawn, uncaring, unfeeling. A machine’s only purpose is to frustrate desire and produce two problems for every one it solves. And do you know why a machine feels this way?”

“You’re hysterical,” Somers told him.

“I am not. A machine feels this way because it knows it is an unnatural creation in nature’s domain. Therefore it wishes to reach entropy and cease—a mechanical death wish.”