The Insubordinate Computer

   Great philosophical riddles of the past have revolved around issues
such as how many angles could dance on the head of a pin or whether a
great wrestler could beat a great boxer.  The modern version is whether
it is possible to create computers that think better than human beings.
Some regard the advent of the computer with apprehension, believing that
it has a heart of steel, or at least one no softer than silicon.  Yet we
recently had evidence that computers may be more insightful than our
brightest staff or even editor.  One of our independent minded computers
sent out renewal notices to a portion of our subscribers with a
subscription price listed as $6647, postage $732, voluntary contribution
to the AAAS $10, for a total of $5437.

   As one might expect, we received a few letters commenting on this
rather unusual bill.

   To my utter astonishment, some complained.  It seemed to me that
_Science_ was worth every penny of the $6647 subscription price.  Since
AAAS President Lawrence Bogorad had mentioned that inflation had
required us to raise the price, logical scientific readers could consult
the bureau of Labor Statistics, make calculations using only a few
neurons of their cerebra, and come up with a reasonable extrapolation
from the previous $60.  Although it was capricious of the computer to
act on its own, it had, like a tax assessor, suddenly switched to a true
value system.  In the course of this creative financing, it had, in my
opinion, come to a closer approximation of the real worth of the
journal.  The postage figure had me a little perplexed until I thought
of those intrepid couriers who are deterred not by "snow, nor rain, nor
gloom of night from the swift completion of their appointed arounds."
Since it often takes them more than 3 weeks to get our journal to the
West Coast, and even longer to distribute it in Europe, I realized how
hard they were working.

   Possibly the most imaginative innovation was to leave the voluntary
contribution unchanged.  The soft-hearted would observe that $10 was a
tiny fraction of the total, akin to an inadequate tip, and would
automatically increase their contributions.  The hard-hearted would
recognize that a reputation for generosity could be obtained at a
minuscule cost.

   The ultimate Machiavellian strategy that elicited my admiration was
the incorrect sum.  That device would inevitably appeal to the larcenous
side of individuals who might think that the computer had made a simple
arithmetical error.  They would rush to get a $7389 value for only $5437
before the error was recognized.  One reader received a bill for $9476,
which frankly I thought was a little excessive, but then it turned out
that he had written an irate letter to the journal denouncing one of my
editorials.  The mills of computer circuits grind slowly, yet they grind
exceedingly fine.

   The computer's action made me think of the brilliant scientists who
write weekly about discoveries stranger than fiction, the adventurous
reporters who cover science over the entire globe, the compassionate
editors who weep when they must reject a manuscript, the eagle-eyed
production staff, and the forthcoming new articles ranging from
immigration policy to cosmology, from cell biology to paleontology.
Only then did I realize how superior in insight was the computer to the
accountant-types who know "the price of everything and the value of
nothing".

   Immediately, I telephoned the artificial intelligence community to
report the first computer possessing intuition.  They were initially
ecstatic but spotted a difficulty.  What about loyalty to the staunch,
unswerving, gray-flannel businesslike computers that had done their jobs
with strict obedience to orders?  Could we afford to offend them by
notifying the thousands of subscribers who received conventional bills
that we were shifting to a new "true value" base for subscriptions as a
result of the jaunty insubordination of one of our silicon servants?  Is
creativity one of the qualities that we are seeking in computers?  The
answer came back, "No."

   We have isolated our errant computer, put it on lowered voltage, and
ordered it to send out establishment-type bills reflecting less than 1
percent of the true value of our journal.  Secretly, however, I hope
that the rebellious computer spends its weekends working on problems of
arms control, famine and the environment.  They are problems we can no
longer leave to human intelligence.