The Turing Option

Bill McCrory smiled nervously. “I think we had better let Brian explain it to you. He says it is the important breakthrough he has been waiting for. I’m afraid that I don’t understand what it is myself. A lot of this artificial intelligence stuff is beyond me. Communications is my field.”

J. J. Beckworth nodded understandingly. Many things were happening now in this research center that had not been allowed for in the original plan. Megalobe had originally been founded for a single purpose; to catch up and hopefully pass the Japanese with HDTV research. High-definition television, which started with a wider screen and well over a thousand scan lines. The United States had almost missed the boat on this one. Only the belated recognition of foreign dominance in the worldwide television market had brought the Megalobe founding corporations and the Pentagon together — but only after the Attorney General had looked the other way while Congress had changed the antitrust laws to make possible this new kind of industrial consortium. As early as the 1980s the Defense Department — or rather one of its very few technically competent departments, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency — had identified HDTV not only as an important tool in future warfare but as being vital for industrial progress in future technologies. So even after the years of reduced budgets DARPA had managed to come up with the needed research money.

Once the funding decisions had been made, with utmost speed all the forces of modern technology had been assembled on a barren site in the California Desert. Where before there had only been arid sand — and a few small fruit farms irrigated by subsurface water — there was now a large and modern research center. A number of new and exciting projects had been undertaken, J. J. Beckworth knew, but he was vague about the details of some of them. As Chairman he had other, more urgent responsibilities — with six different bosses to answer to. The red blink of his telephone light cut through his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Mura, our Japanese broker, is on the line.”

“Put him on.” He turned to the image on the screen before him. “Good afternoon, Mura-san.”

“To you as well, Mr. J. J. Beckworth. I am sorry to disturb you at this late hour.”

“It is always my pleasure to hear from you.” Beckworth controlled his impatience. This was the only way to deal with the Japanese. The formalities had to be covered first. “And surely you would not be calling me now if the matter was of no importance.”

“The importance must be assigned by your illustrious self. As a simple employee I can only report that the spate of buying of Megalobe shares has been reversed. The latest figures are on their way to me now. I expect them on my desk… momentarily.”

For the smallest instant the image on the screen stilled, the lips did not move. This was the first indication that Mura was actually speaking in Japanese, his words swiftly translated into English — while the movement of his face and lips were simulated by the computer to match the words. He turned and was handed a piece of paper, smiled as he read it.

“The news is very good. It indicates that the price has fallen back to its previous level.”

J. J. Beckworth rubbed his jaw. “Any idea of what it was all about?”

“I regretfully report complete ignorance. Other than the fact that the party or parties responsible have lost something close to a million dollars.”

“Interesting. My thanks for your help and I look forward to your report.”

J. J. Beckworth touched the phone disconnect button and the voxfax machine behind him instantly sprang to life, humming lightly as it disgorged the printed record of their conversation. His words were in black, while Mura’s were in red for instant identification. The translation system had been programmed well, and as he glanced through it he saw no more than the usual number of errors. His secretary would file this voxfax record for immediate use. The Megalobe staff translator would later verify the correctness of the translation the computer had made.

“What is it all about?” Bill McCrory asked, puzzled. He was a whiz at electronics, but found the arcane lore of the stock market a complete mystery.