"Harry Harrison & Marvin Minsky - The Turing Option" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

outside; the first stars were appearing and the office lights had automatically come on.
Beckworth nodded agreement and pointed to the telephone on the table across the
room. While the engineer made his call, J. J. punched his appointment book up on the
screen and cleared away his work for the day, then checked the engagements for
tomorrow. It was going to be a busy oneтАФjust like every other dayтАФand he pushed
his memory watch against the terminal. The screen said WAIT and an instant later read
FINISHED as it downloaded his next day's appointments into the watch. That was that.
Every evening at this time, before he left, he usually had a fifteen-year-old
Glenmorangie Scotch malt whisky. He glanced in the direction of the hidden bar and
smiled slightly. Not quite yet. It would wait.
Bill McCrory pressed the mute button on the phone before he spoke. "Excuse me, J.
J., but the labs are closed. It's going to take a few minutes to set up our visit."
"That's perfectly fine," Beckworth saidтАФand meant it. There had been a number of
good reasons for building the research center here in the desert. Lack of pollution and
low humidity had been two considerationsтАФbut the sheer emptiness of the desert had
been much more important. Security had been a primary consideration. As far back as
the 1940s, when industrial espionage had been in its infancy, unscrupulous
corporations had discovered that it was far easier to steal another company's secrets
than spend the time, energyтАФ and moneyтАФdeveloping something for oneself. With
the growth of computer technology and electronic surveillance, industrial espionage
had been one of the really big growth industries. The first and biggest problem that
Megalobe had faced was the secure construction of this new facility. This meant that
as soon as the few farms and empty desert had been purchased for the site, an
impenetrable fence was built around the entire area. Not really a fenceтАФand not
really impenetrable, nothing could be. It was a series of fences and walls that were
topped with razor wire and hung with detectorsтАФdetectors buried in the ground as
wellтАФand blanketed by holographic change detectors, the surface sprinkled with
strain gauges, vibration sensors and other devices. It established a perimeter that said
"No go!" Next to impossible to penetrate, but if any person or device did get through,
why then lights, cameras, dogsтАФand armed guards were certain to be waiting.
 Even after this had been completed, construction of the building had not begun
until every existing wire, cable and drainpipe had been dug up, examined, then
discarded. One surprising find was a prehistoric Yuman Indian burial site.
Construction had been delayed while this had been carefully excavated by
archaeologists and turned over to the Yuman and Shoshonean Indian museum in San
Diego. Then, and only then, had the carefully supervised construction begun. Most of
the buildings had been prefabricated on closely guarded and controlled locations.
Sealed electronically, examined, then sealed again. After being trucked to the site in
locked containers the entire inspection process had been done yet one more time. J. J.
Beckworth had personally supervised this part of the construction. Without the
absolutely best security the entire operation would have been rendered useless.
Bill McCrory looked up nervously from the phone. "I'm sorry, J.J., but the time
locks have been activated. It's going to take a half an hour at least to arrange a visit.
We could put it off until tomorrow."
"Not possible." He punched up the next day's appointments on his watch. "My
schedule is full, including lunch in the office, and I have a flight out at four. It's now
or never. Get Toth. Tell him to arrange it."
"He may be gone by now."
"Not him. First in and last out."
Arpad Toth was head of security. More than that, he had supervised the