Silicon Dreams by Martin H Greenberg

Author:Martin H Greenberg [Greenberg, Martin H]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 075640018X
Publisher: DAW Books
Published: 2001-12-02T21:00:00+00:00

Things went from bad to worse over lunch, which included more delegates arriving for the afternoon meeting. While just about every group present agreed with something that PHIL had raised, none of them could understand why he defended the prejudices of others that were so obviously wrong. The result was that everybody had something to argue about, and things became acrimonious. The atmosphere carried over to the session back in the conference room afterward, where everybody accused their opponents of operating a double standard. PHIL irked everyone except the ecclesiastics by quoting several passages from the Christian Gospels that they all claimed to subscribe to, denouncing the judging of others until one has first attained perfection oneself—and then setting impossible standards for attaining it; then he upset the ecclesiastics by drawing attention to how much of the Bible had been added in Roman counterfeiting operations that would have impressed the KGB. The meeting broke up early with the still-squabbling groups departing back to their places of origin or havens elsewhere in the building, unanimous only in declaring the project to be dead on the taxiway. Nangarry was swept out with the tide in the course of trying to placate them. General Wade left with a couple of corporate lawyers who were agitated at PHIL’s revelation of the costs and consequences of alcohol and tobacco consumption being far more severe than of other drugs that were illegal—PHIL had also suggested that drug-traffic interdiction had become the military’s biggest pretext for foreign intervention, which was what had irked Wade. Dave found himself left staring bleakly at a few secretaries picking up papers and notes, a proleroid janitor coming in to clean the room, and Lieutenant Kantrel still tapping at her laptop.

“How did it go?” PHIL inquired from a speaker grille above the nearest screen.

“You played it undeviatingly to the end,” Dave said. “I think you’ve been metaphorically crucified.”

“What did I do?”

“Told them the truth.”

“I thought that was supposed to be a good thing. Isn’t it what everyone says they want?”

“It’s what they say. But what people really want is certainty. They want to hear their prejudices confirmed.”

“Oh.” There was a pause, as if PHIL needed to think about that. “I need to make some conceptual realignments here,” he said finally.

“I guess that’s something we’re going to have to work on,” Dave replied.

He looked away to find that Kantrel had stopped typing and was looking at him curiously, with a hint of the mischievous smile that he had seen before playing on her mouth. He shrugged resignedly at her. “How not to sell an idea.”

“To be honest, I thought you were quite wonderful,” she said.

“Me? I hardly said anything. I was too confused. If you liked it, that was all PHIL, not me.”

“You can’t hear music without hearing the composer. When you look at a painting, you see the artist.” She looked Dave up and down and made a gesture to take in his wavy head, puckish-nosed face with its dancing gray eyes and trimmed beard, and lithe, tanned frame clad in a bottle-green blazer and tan slacks.

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