thing. The subjects in the tanks are definitely of an illegal age for form-change work—my rough estimate puts them between two years old and sixteen years old, all of them."
It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Then Larsen said quietly. "You are telling us that there are human children in those tanks. That's monstrous. How can a child assess the risks that go with form-change?"
"They can't. In this case, the question of knowing the risk does not arise. The arrangement is a very special one, never used legally. We've known how to apply it, in principle, for many years. The stimulus to achieve a programmed form-change is being applied directly to the pleasure centers of their brains. In effect, they have no choice at all. These children are being forced to strive for the programmed changes by the strongest possible stimulus."
He leaned back in the control console chair and put both hands to his perspiring forehead. When he finally spoke again, his voice was slurred and weary.
"I can't believe it. I simply can't believe it, even though I see it. In Central Hospital, and with Capman involved. He's been my idol ever since I left medical school. He seemed more concerned for individuals, and for humanity as a whole, than anyone I ever met. Never cared for money, or possessions. Now he's mixed up in this. It makes no sense. . . ."
His voice cracked and he sat hunched and motionless in his chair. After a few seconds, Wolf intruded on his troubled reverie.
"Doctor, is there any way that you can tell us what form-changes were being used here?"
Morris roused himself a little and shook his head. "Not without the missing records. Capman must have kept those separately somewhere. I can get the computer listings through the display here, but it would be a terrible job to deduce the program purpose from the object listings. Even short subroutines can take hours to understand. There's a piece of code here, for example, that occurs over and over in two of the experiments. But its use is obscure."
"What do you think it is, Doctor?" asked Bey. "I know you can't tell us exactly, but can you get even a rough idea?"
Morris looked dubious. "I'll be reading it out of context, of course. It looks like a straightforward delay loop. The effect is to make each program instruction execute for a pre-set number of times before moving on to the next one. So everything would be slowed down by that same factor, set by the user."
"But what would it do?"
"Heaven knows. These programs are all realtime and interactive, so it would be nonsensical to slow them all down." He paused for a second, then added, "But remember, these programs were presumably designed by Robert Capman. He's a genius of the first rank, and I'm not. The fact that I can't understand what is being done here means nothing. We need Capman's own notes and experimental design before we can really tell what he was doing."
Wolf was pacing the control room, eyes unfocussed and manner intent.
"That's not going to be easy. Capman has left the hospital, I'll bet my brains on it. Why else would he have given us free run of the place? I don't understand why he did that, even if he knew we were onto him. Somehow he must have tracked what we were doing, and decided he couldn't stop us. But unless we do trace him, we may never know what he was doing here."
He turned to Larsen in sudden decision. "John, go and get a trace sensor. It's my bet that Capman has been here, in this room, in the past hour. We have to try and go after him, even if it's only for his own protection. Can you imagine the public reaction if people found out he had been stealing human babies for form-change experiments? They'd tear him apart. He must have got the children by faking the results of the humanity-tests. That's why their I.D.'s aren't on file."
Larsen hurried out of the vault. As he left, Morris suddenly looked hopeful.
"Wait a minute," he said. "Suppose that Capman were working with subjects that had
It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Then Larsen said quietly. "You are telling us that there are human children in those tanks. That's monstrous. How can a child assess the risks that go with form-change?"
"They can't. In this case, the question of knowing the risk does not arise. The arrangement is a very special one, never used legally. We've known how to apply it, in principle, for many years. The stimulus to achieve a programmed form-change is being applied directly to the pleasure centers of their brains. In effect, they have no choice at all. These children are being forced to strive for the programmed changes by the strongest possible stimulus."
He leaned back in the control console chair and put both hands to his perspiring forehead. When he finally spoke again, his voice was slurred and weary.
"I can't believe it. I simply can't believe it, even though I see it. In Central Hospital, and with Capman involved. He's been my idol ever since I left medical school. He seemed more concerned for individuals, and for humanity as a whole, than anyone I ever met. Never cared for money, or possessions. Now he's mixed up in this. It makes no sense. . . ."
His voice cracked and he sat hunched and motionless in his chair. After a few seconds, Wolf intruded on his troubled reverie.
"Doctor, is there any way that you can tell us what form-changes were being used here?"
Morris roused himself a little and shook his head. "Not without the missing records. Capman must have kept those separately somewhere. I can get the computer listings through the display here, but it would be a terrible job to deduce the program purpose from the object listings. Even short subroutines can take hours to understand. There's a piece of code here, for example, that occurs over and over in two of the experiments. But its use is obscure."
"What do you think it is, Doctor?" asked Bey. "I know you can't tell us exactly, but can you get even a rough idea?"
Morris looked dubious. "I'll be reading it out of context, of course. It looks like a straightforward delay loop. The effect is to make each program instruction execute for a pre-set number of times before moving on to the next one. So everything would be slowed down by that same factor, set by the user."
"But what would it do?"
"Heaven knows. These programs are all realtime and interactive, so it would be nonsensical to slow them all down." He paused for a second, then added, "But remember, these programs were presumably designed by Robert Capman. He's a genius of the first rank, and I'm not. The fact that I can't understand what is being done here means nothing. We need Capman's own notes and experimental design before we can really tell what he was doing."
Wolf was pacing the control room, eyes unfocussed and manner intent.
"That's not going to be easy. Capman has left the hospital, I'll bet my brains on it. Why else would he have given us free run of the place? I don't understand why he did that, even if he knew we were onto him. Somehow he must have tracked what we were doing, and decided he couldn't stop us. But unless we do trace him, we may never know what he was doing here."
He turned to Larsen in sudden decision. "John, go and get a trace sensor. It's my bet that Capman has been here, in this room, in the past hour. We have to try and go after him, even if it's only for his own protection. Can you imagine the public reaction if people found out he had been stealing human babies for form-change experiments? They'd tear him apart. He must have got the children by faking the results of the humanity-tests. That's why their I.D.'s aren't on file."
Larsen hurried out of the vault. As he left, Morris suddenly looked hopeful.
"Wait a minute," he said. "Suppose that Capman were working with subjects that had
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