Super-Toys Last All Summer Long
by Brian Aldiss
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Aldiss, in a January 1997 interview with Wired Magazine, says
that in the early 90's he Stanley Kubrick made two collaborative
attempts to turn his story "Supertoys..." into a script. "I can't
tell you how many directions we went. My favorite was when David
and Teddy got exiled to Tin City, a place where the old model
robots, like old cars, were living out their days. Stanley
definitely had the ambition to make another big science fiction
movie, but in the end, we didn't get anywhere. Stanley called in
Arthur Clarke and asked him to provide a scenario, but he didn't
like that, either....
"I have a feeling, having worked with him, that he hasn't got the
dashing confidence of youth," says Aldiss. "But of course, with
age, you acquire a different sort of confidence." The director's
creative vision, meanwhile, is clearer than ever. "Stanley
embraces android technology," Aldiss notes, "and thinks it might
eventually take over -- and be an improvement over the human
race."
The original drafts made by Aldiss and Kubrick became the
starting point for his as-yet unfinished project A.I. Following
the departure of Aldiss, Kubrick subsequently worked with authors
Ian Watson and Bob Shaw. The film is currently under
pre-production in London; few further details are currently
known.
"Supertoys..." appeared first in Harper's Bazaar, and is 969
Brian Aldiss, all rights reserved
-----------------------------------------------------------------
In Mrs. Swinton's garden, it was always summer. The lovely almond
trees stood about it in perpetual leaf. Monica Swinton plucked a
saffron-colored rose and showed it to David.
"Isn't it lovely?" she said.
David looked up at her and grinned without replying. Seizing the
flower, he ran with it across the lawn and disappeared behind the
kennel where the mowervator crouched, ready to cut or sweep or
roll when the moment dictated. She stood alone on her impeccable
plastic gravel path.
She had tried to love him.
When she made up her mind to follow the boy, she found him in the
courtyard floating the rose in his paddling pool. He stood in the
pool engrossed, still wearing his sandals.
"David, darling, do you have to be so awful? Come in at once and
change your shoes and socks."
He went with her without protest into the house, his dark head
bobbing at the level of her waist. At the age of three, he showed
no fear of the ultrasonic dryer in the kitchen. But before his
mother could reach for a pair of slippers, he wriggled away and
was gone into the silence of the house.
He would probably be looking for Teddy.
Monica Swinton, twenty-nine, of graceful shape and lambent eye,
went and sat in her living room, arranging her limbs with taste.
She began by sitting and thinking; soon she was just sitting.
Time waited on her shoulder with the maniac slowth it reserves
for children, the insane, and wives whose husbands are away
improving the world. Almost by reflex, she reached out and
changed the wavelength of her windows. The garden faded; in its
place, the city center rose by her left hand, full of crowding
people, blowboats, and buildings (but she kept the sound down).
She remained alone. An overcrowded world is the ideal place in
which to be lonely.
*
The directors of Synthank were eating an enormous luncheon to
celebrate the launching of their new product. Some of them wore
the plastic face-masks popular at the time. All were elegantly
slender, despite the rich food and drink they were putting away.
Their wives were elegantly slender, despite the food and drink
they too were putting away. An earlier and less sophisticated
generation would have regarded them as beautiful people, apart
from their eyes.
Henry Swinton, Managing Director of Synthank, was about to make a
speech.
"I'm sorry your wife couldn't be with us to hear you," his
neighbor said.
"Monica prefers to stay at home thinking beautiful thoughts,"
said Swinton, maintaining a smile.
"One would expect such a beautiful woman to have beautiful
thoughts," said the neighbor.
Take your mind off my wife, you bastard, thought Swinton, still
smiling.
He rose to make his speech amid applause.
After a couple of jokes, he said, "Today marks a real
breakthrough for the company. It is now almost ten years since we
put our first synthetic life-forms on the world market. You all
know what a success they have been, particularly the miniature
dinosaurs. But none of them had intelligence.
"It seems like a paradox that in this day and age we can create
life but not intelligence. Our first selling line, the Crosswell
Tape, sells best of all, and is the most stupid of all." Everyone
laughed.
"Though three-quarters of the overcrowded world are starving, we
are lucky here to have more than enough, thanks to population
control. Obesity's our problem, not malnutrition. I guess there's
nobody round this table who doesn't have a Crosswell working for
him in the small intestine, a perfectly safe parasite tape-worm
that enables its host to eat up to fifty percent more food and
still keep his or her figure. Right?" General nods of agreement.
"Our miniature dinosaurs are almost equally stupid. Today, we
launch an intelligent synthetic life-form -- a full-size
serving-man.
"Not only does he have intelligence, he has a controlled amount
of intelligence. We believe people would be afraid of a being
with a human brain. Our serving-man has a small computer in his
cranium.
"There have been mechanicals on the market with mini-computers
for brains -- plastic things without life, super-toys -- but we
have at last found a way to link computer circuitry with
synthetic flesh."
*
David sat by the long window of his nursery, wrestling with paper
and pencil. Finally, he stopped writing and began to roll the
pencil up and down the slope of the desk-lid.
"Teddy!" he said.
Teddy lay on the bed against the wall, under a book with moving
pictures and a giant plastic soldier. The speech-pattern of his
master's voice activated him and he sat up.
"Teddy, I can't think what to say!"
Climbing off the bed, the bear walked stiffly over to cling to
the boy's leg. David lifted him and set him on the desk.
"What have you said so far?"
"I've said --" He picked up his letter and stared hard at it.
"I've said, 'Dear Mummy, I hope you're well just now. I love
you....'"
There was a long silence, until the bear said, "That sounds fine.
Go downstairs and give it to her."
Another long silence.
"It isn't quite right. She won't understand."
Inside the bear, a small computer worked through its program of
possibilities. "Why not do it again in crayon?"
When David did not answer, the bear repeated his suggestion. "Why
not do it again in crayon?"
David was staring out of the window. "Teddy, you know what I was
thinking? How do you tell what are real things from what aren't
real things?"
The bear shuffled its alternatives. "Real things are good."
"I wonder if time is good. I don't think Mummy likes time very
much. The other day, lots of days ago, she said that time went by
her. Is time real, Teddy?"
"Clocks tell the time. Clocks are real. Mummy has clocks so she
must like them. She has a clock on her wrist next to her dial."
David started to draw a jumbo jet on the back of his letter. "You
and I are real, Teddy, aren't we?"
The bear's eyes regarded the boy unflinchingly. "You and I are
real David." It specialized in comfort.
*
Monica walked slowly about the house. It was almost time for the
afternoon post to come over the wire. She punched the Post Office
number on the dial on her wrist, but nothing came through. A few
minutes more.
She could take up her painting. Or she could dial her friends. Or
she could wait till Henry came home. Or she could go up and play
with David....
She walked out into the hall and to the bottom of the stairs.
"David!"
No answer. She called again and a third time.
"Teddy!" she called, in sharper tones.
"Yes, Mummy!" After a moment's pause, Teddy's head of golden fur
appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Is David in his room,Teddy?"
"David went into the garden, Mummy."
"Come down here, Teddy!"
She stood impassively, watching the little furry figure as it
climbed down from step to step on its stubby limbs. When it
reached the bottom, she picked it up and carried it into the
living room. It lay unmoving in her arms, staring up at her. She
could feel just the slightest vibration from its motor.
"Stand there, Teddy. I want to talk to you." She set him down on
a tabletop, and he stood as she requested, arms set forward and
open in the eternal gesture of embrace.
"Teddy, did David tell you to tell me he had gone into the
garden?"
The circuits of the bear's brain were too simple for artifice.
"Yes, Mummy."
"So you lied to me."
"Yes. Mummy."
"Stop calling me Mummy! Why is David avoiding me? He's not afraid
of me, is he?"
"No. He loves you."
"Why can't we communicate?"
"David's upstairs."
The answer stopped her dead. Why waste time talking to this
machine? Why not simply go upstairs and scoop David into her arms
and talk to him, as a loving mother should to a loving son? She
heard the sheer weight of silence in the house, with a different
quality of silence pouring out of every room. On the upper
landing, something was moving very silently -- David, trying to
hide away from her....
*
He was nearing the end of his speech now. The guests were
attentive; so was the Press, lining two walls of the banqueting
chamber, recording Henry's words and occasionally photographing
him.
"Our serving-man will be, in many senses, a product of the
computer. Without computers, we could never have worked through
the sophisticated biochemics that go into synthetic flesh. The
serving-man will also be an extension of the computer--for he
will contain a computer in his own head, a microminiaturized
computer capable of dealing with almost any situation he may
encounter in the home. With reservations, of course." Laughter at
this; many of those present knew the heated debate that had
engulfed the Synthank boardroom before the decision had finally
been taken to leave the serving-man neuter under his flawless
uniform.
"Amid all the triumphs of our civilization -- yes, and amid the
crushing problems of overpopulation too -- it is sad to reflect
how many millions of people suffer from increasing loneliness and
isolation. Our serving-man will be a boon to them: he will always
answer, and the most vapid conversation cannot bore him.
"For the future, we plan more models, male and female--some of
them without the limitations of this first one, I promise you! --
of more advanced design, true bio-electronic beings.
"Not only will they possess their own computer, capable of
individual programming; they will be linked to the World Data
Network. Thus everyone will be able to enjoy the equivalent of an
Einstein in their own homes. Personal isolation will then be
banished forever!"
He sat down to enthusiastic applause. Even the synthetic
serving-man, sitting at the table dressed in an unostentatious
suit, applauded with gusto.
*
Dragging his satchel, David crept round the side of the house. He
climbed on to the ornamental seat under the living-room window
and peeped cautiously in.
His mother stood in the middle of the room. Her face was blank,
its lack of expression scared him. He watched fascinated. He did
not move; she did not move. Time might have stopped, as it had
stopped in the garden.
At last she turned and left the room. After waiting a moment,
David tapped on the window. Teddy looked round, saw him, tumbled
off the table, and came over to the window. Fumbling with his
paws, he eventually got it open.
They looked at each other.
"I'm no good, Teddy. Let's run away!"
"You're a very good boy. Your Mummy loves you."
Slowly, he shook his head. "If she loved me, then why can't I
talk to her?"
"You're being silly, David. Mummy's lonely. That's why she had
you."
"She's got Daddy. I've got nobody 'cept you, and I'm lonely."
Teddy gave him a friendly cuff over the head. "If you feel so
bad, you'd better go to the psychiatrist again."
"I hate that old psychiatrist -- he makes me feel I'm not real."
He started to run across the lawn. The bear toppled out of the
window and followed as fast as its stubby legs would allow.
Monica Swinton was up in the nursery. She called to her son once
and then stood there, undecided. All was silent.
Crayons lay on his desk. Obeying a sudden impulse, she went over
to the desk and opened it. Dozens of pieces of paper lay inside.
Many of them were written in crayon in David's clumsy writing,
with each letter picked out in a color different from the letter
preceding it. None of the messages was finished.
"My dear Mummy, How are you really, do you love me as much --"
"Dear Mummy, I love you and Daddy and the sun is shining --"
"Dear dear Mummy, Teddy's helping me write to you. I love you and
Teddy --"
"Darling Mummy, I'm your one and only son and I love you so much
that some times --"
"Dear Mummy, you're really my Mummy and I hate Teddy --"
"Darling Mummy, guess how much I love --"
"Dear Mummy, I'm your little boy not Teddy and I love you but
Teddy --"
"Dear Mummy, this is a letter to you just to say how much how
ever so much --"
Monica dropped the pieces of paper and burst out crying. In their
gay inaccurate colors, the letters fanned out and settled on the
floor.
*
Henry Swinton caught the express home in high spirits, and
occasionally said a word to the synthetic serving-man he was
taking home with him. The serving-man answered politely and
punctually, although his answers were not always entirely
relevant by human standards.
The Swintons lived in one of the ritziest city-blocks, half a
kilometer above the ground. Embedded in other apartments, their
apartment had no windows to the outside; nobody wanted to see the
overcrowded external world. Henry unlocked the door with his
retina pattern-scanner and walked in, followed by the
serving-man.
At once, Henry was surrounded by the friendly illusion of gardens
set in eternal summer. It was amazing what Whologram could do to
create huge mirages in small spaces. Behind its roses and
wisteria stood their house; the deception was complete: a
Georgian mansion appeared to welcome him.
"How do you like it?" he asked the serving-man.
"Roses occasionally suffer from black spot."
"These roses are guaranteed free from any imperfections."
"It is always advisable to purchase goods with guarantees, even
if they cost slightly more."
"Thanks for the information," Henry said dryly. Synthetic
lifeforms were less than ten years old, the old android
mechanicals less than sixteen; the faults of their systems were
still being ironed out, year by year.
He opened the door and called to Monica.
She came out of the sitting-room immediately and flung her arms
round him, kissing him ardently on cheek and lips. Henry was
amazed.
Pulling back to look at her face, he saw how she seemed to
generate light and beauty. It was months since he had seen her so
excited. Instinctively, he clasped her tighter.
"Darling, what's happened?"
"Henry, Henry -- oh, my darling, I was in despair ... but I've
just dialed the afternoon post and -- you'll never believe it!
Oh, it's wonderful!"
"For heaven's sake, woman, what's wonderful?"
He caught a glimpse of the heading on the photostat in her hand,
still moist from the wall-receiver: Ministry of Population. He
felt the color drain from his face in sudden shock and hope.
"Monica ... oh ... Don't tell me our number's come up!"
"Yes, my darling, yes, we've won this week's parenthood lottery!
We can go ahead and conceive a child at once!"
He let out a yell of joy. They danced round the room. Pressure of
population was such that reproduction had to be strict,
controlled. Childbirth required government permission. For this
moment, they had waited four years. Incoherently they cried their
delight.
They paused at last, gasping and stood in the middle of the room
to laugh at each other's happiness. When she had come down from
the nursery, Monica had de-opaqued the windows so that they now
revealed the vista of garden beyond. Artificial sunlight was
growing long and golden across the lawn -- and David and Teddy
were staring through the window at them.
Seeing their faces, Henry and his wife grew serious.
"What do we do about them?" Henry asked.
"Teddy's no trouble. He works well."
"Is David malfunctioning?"
"His verbal communication center is still giving trouble. I think
he'll have to go back to the factory again."
"Okay. We'll see how he does before the baby's born. Which
reminds me--I have a surprise for you: help just when help is
needed! Come into the hall and see what I've got."
As the two adults disappeared from the room, boy and bear sat
down beneath the standard roses.
"Teddy -- I suppose Mummy and Daddy are real, aren't they?"
Teddy said, "You ask such silly questions, David. Nobody knows
what real really means. Let's go indoors."
"First I'm going to have another rose!" Plucking a bright pink
flower, he carried it with him into the house. It could lie on
the pillow as he went to sleep. Its beauty and softness reminded
him of Mummy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Image]
|
 讓我們程式搜尋結果更加完美 如果您覺得該文件有幫助到您，煩請按下我如果您覺得該文件是一個一無是處的文件，也煩請按下我 |
|
該文件您看起來是亂碼嗎？您可以切換編碼方式試試看！ISO-8859-1 | latin1 | euc-kr | euc-jp | CP936 | CP950 | UTF-8 | GB2312 | BIG5 |
|