"Murray Leinster - A Logic Named Joe" - читать интересную книгу автора (Leinster Murray)

Somebody melds a hundred aces an' says:
"Why not punch for it an' see what happens?"
It's a gag, o' course. But the guy goes over. He punches keys. In theory, a censor block is gonna
come on an' the screen will say severely, "Public Policy Forbids This Service." You hafta have censor
blocks or the kiddies will be askin' detailed questions about things they're too young to know. And there
are other reasons. As you will see.
This fella punches, "How can I get rid of my wife?" Just for the fun of it. The screen is blank for half a
second. Then comes a flash. "Service question: Is she blonde or brunette?" He hollers to us an' we come
look. He punches, "Blonde." There's another brief pause. Then the screen says,
"Hexymetacryloaminoacetine is a constituent of green shoe polish. Take home a frozen meal including
dried-pea soup. Color the soup with green shoe polish. It will appear to be green-pea soup.
Hexymetacryloaminoacetine is a selective poison which is fatal to blond females but not to brunettes or
males of any coloring. This fact has not been brought out by human experiment, but is a product of logics
service. You cannot be convicted of murder. It is improbable that you will be suspected."
The screen goes blank, and we stare at each other. It's bound to be right. A logic workin' the Carson
Circuit can no more make a mistake than any other kinda computin' machine. I call the tank in a hurry.
"Hey, you guys!" I yell. "Somethin's happened! Logics are givin' detailed instructions for wife-murder!
Check your censor-circuitsтАФbut quick!"
That was close, I think. But little do I know. At that precise instant, over on Monroe Avenue, a
drunk starts to punch for somethin' on a logic. The screen says "Announcing new and improved logics
service! If you want to do something and don't know how to do itтАФask your logic!" And the drunk says,
owlish, "I'll do it!" So he cancels his first punching and fumbles around and says: "How can I keep my
wife from finding out I've been drinking?" And the screen says, prompt: "Buy a bottle of Franine hair
shampoo. It is harmless but contains a detergent which will neutralize ethyl alcohol immediately. Take one
teaspoonful for each jigger of hundred-proof you have consumed."
This guy was plenty plasteredтАФjust plastered enough to stagger next door and obey instructions. An'
five minutes later he was cold sober and writing down the information so he couldn't forget it. It was new,
and it was big! He got rich offa that memo! He patented "SOBUH, The Drink that Makes Happy
Homes!" You can top off any souse with a slug or two of it an' go home sober as a judge. The guy's
cussin' income taxes right now!
You can't kick on stuff like that. But a ambitious young fourteen-year-old wanted to buy some kid
stuff and his pop wouldn't fork over. He called up a friend to tell his troubles. And his logic says: "If you
want to do something and don't know how to do itтАФask your logic!" So this kid punches: "How can I
make a lotta money, fast?"
His logic comes through with the simplest, neatest, and the most efficient counterfeitin' device yet
known to science. You see, all the data was in the tank. The logicтАФsince Joe had closed some relays
here an' there in the tankтАФsimply integrated the facts. That's all. The kid got caught up with three days
later, havin' already spent two thousand credits an' havin' plenty more on hand. They hadda time tellin' his
counterfeits from the real stuff, an' the only way they done it was that he changed his printer, kid fashion,
not bein' able to let somethin' that was workin' right alone.
Those are what you might call samples. Nobody knows all that Joe done. But there was the bank
president who got humorous when his logic flashed that "Ask your logic" spiel on him, and jestingly asked
how to rob his own bank. An' the logic told him, brief and explicit but good! The bank president hit the
ceiling, hollering for cops. There musta been plenty of that sorta thing. There was fifty-four more
robberies than usual in the next twenty-four hours, all of them planned astute an' perfect. Some of 'em
they never did figure out how they'd been done. Joe, he'd gone exploring in the tank and closed some
relays like a logic is supposed to doтАФbut only when requiredтАФand blocked all censor-circuits an' fixed
up this logics service which planned perfect crimes, nourishing an' attractive meals, counterfeitin'
machines, an' new industries with a fine impartiality. He musta been plenty happy, Joe must. He was
functionin' swell, buzzin' along to himself while the Korlanovitch kids were off ridin' with their ma an' pa.