"Asimov, Isaac - Buy Jupiter and Other Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

Marmie said, "You heard me; a common monkey, even funnier-looking than the average editor. I made an appointment for this afternoon. Are you coming with me or not?"
"Of course not. You think I'd abandon a stack of manuscripts this high"-and he indicated his larynx with a cutting motion of the hand-"for your stupid jokes? You think I'll play straight man for you?"
"If this is in any way a joke, Hoskins, I'll stand you dinner in any restaurant you name. Miss Kane's the witness."
Hoskins sat back in his chair. "You'll buy me dinner? You, Marmaduke Tallinn, New York's most widely known tapeworm-on-credit, are going to pick up a
check?"
Marmie winced, not at the reference to his agility in
overlooking a dinner check, but at the mention of his name in all its horrible trysyllabicity. He said, "I repeat. Dinner on me wherever you want and whatever you want. Steaks, mushrooms, breast of guinea hen, Martian alligator, anything."
Hoskins stood up and plucked his hat from the top of the filing cabinet.
"For a chance," he said, "to see you unfold some of the old-style, large-size dollar bills you've been keeping in the false heel of your left shoe since nineteen-two-eight, I'd walk to Boston. ..."
Dr. Torgesson was honored. He shook Hoskin's hand warmly and said, "I've been reading Space Yarns ever since I came to this country, Mr. Hoskins. It is an excellent magazine. I am particularly fond of Mr. Tallinn's stories."
"You hear?" asked Marmie. "I hear. Marmie says you have a monkey with talent, Professor."
"Yes," Torgesson said, "but of course this must be confidential. I am not yet ready to publish, and premature publicity could be my professional ruin."
"This is strictly under the editorial hat, Professor."
"Good, good. Sit down, gentlemen, sit down." He paced the floor before them. "What have you told Mr. Hoskins about my work, Marmie?"
"Not a thing, Professor."
"So. Well, Mr. Hoskins, as the editor of a science fiction magazine, I don't have to ask you if you know anything about cybernetics."
Hoskins allowed a glance of concentrated intellect to ooze out past his steel-rims. He said, "Ah, yes. Computing machines-M.I.T.-Norbert Weiner-" He mumbled some more.
"Yes. Yes." Torgesson paced faster. "Then you must know that chess-playing computers have been constructed on cybernetic principles. The rules of chess moves and the object of the game are built into its circuits. Given any position on the chess board, the machine can then compute all possible moves together with their consequence and choose that one which offers the highest probability of winning the game. It can even be made to take the temperament of its opponent into account."
"Ah, yes," said Hoskins, stroking his chin profoundly.
Torgesson said, "Now imagine a similar situation in which a computing machine can be given a fragment of a literary work to which the computer can then add words from its stock of the entire vocabulary such that the greatest literary values are served. Naturally, the machine would have to be taught the significance of the various keys of a typewriter. Of course, such a computer would have to be much, much more complex than any chess player."
Hoskins stirred restlessly. "The monkey, Professor. Marmie mentioned a monkey."
"But that is what I am coming to," said Torgesson. "Naturally, no machine built is sufficiently complex. But the human brain-ah. The human brain is itself a computing machine. Of course, I couldn't use a human brain. The law, unfortunately, would not permit me. But even a monkey's brain, properly managed, can do more than any machine ever constructed by man. Wait! I'll go get little Rollo."
He left the room. Hoskins waited a moment, then looked cautiously at Marmie. He said, "Oh, brother!"
Marmie said, "What's the matter?"
"What's the matter? The man's a phony. Tell me, Marmie, where did you hire this faker?"
Marmie was outraged. "Faker? This is a genuine professor's office in Fayerweather Hall, Columbia. You recognize Columbia, I hope. You saw the statue of Alma Mater on 116th Street. I pointed out Eisenhower's office."
"Sure, but-"
"And this is Dr. Torgesson's office. Look at the dust." He blew at a textbook and stirred up clouds of it. "The dust alone shows it's the real thing. And look at the title of the book; Psychodynamics of Human Behavior, by Professor Arndt Rolf Torgesson."
"Granted, Marmie, granted. There is a Torgesson and this is his office. How you knew the real guy was on vacation and how you managed to get the use of his office, I don't know. But are you trying to tell me that this comic with his monkeys and computers is the real thing? Hah!"
"With a suspicious nature like yours, I can only assume
you had a very miserable, rejected type of childhood."
"Just the result of experience with writers, Marmie. I have my restaurant all picked out and this will cost you a pretty penny."
Marmie snorted, "This won't cost me even the ugliest penny you ever paid me. Quiet, he's coming back."

With the professor, and clinging to his neck, was a very melancholy capuchin monkey.
"This," said Torgesson, "is little Rollo. Say hello, Rollo."
The monkey tugged at his forelock.
The professor said, "He's tired, I'm afraid. Now, I have a piece of his manuscript right here."
He put the monkey down and let it cling to his finger while he brought out two sheets of paper from his jacket pocket and handed them to Hoskins.
Hoskins read, " 'To be or not to be; that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a host of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more: and, by a sleep to say we-' "
He looked up. "Little Rollo typed this?"
"Not exactly. It's a copy of what he typed."
"Oh, a copy. Well, little Rollo doesn't know his Shakespeare. It's 'to take arms against a sea of troubles.' "
Torgesson nodded. "You are quite correct, Mr. Hoskins. Shakespeare did write 'sea.' But you see that's a mixed metaphor. You don't fight a sea with arms. You fight a host or army with arms. Rollo chose the monosyllable and typed 'host.' It's one of Shakespeare's rare mistakes."
Hoskins said, "Let's see him type."
"Surely." The professor trundled out a typewriter on a little table. A wire trailed from it. He explained, "It is necessary to use an electric typewriter as otherwise the physical effort would be too great. It is also necessary to wire little Rollo to this transformer."
He did so, using as leads two electrodes that protruded an eighth of an inch through the fur on the little creature's skull.
"Rollo," he said, "was subjected to a very delicate brain operation in which a nest of wires were connected to various regions of his brain. We can short his voluntary activities and, in effect, use his brain simply as a computer. I'm afraid the details would be-"
"Let's see him type," said Hoskins. "What would you like?"
Hoskins thought rapidly. "Does he know Chesterton's 'Lepanto'?"