YOUNG BEAKER [ss], J. T. Lamberty, Jr.

"Good morning, Mr. Janus." The pretty receptionist beamed brightly at the large hulk laboring through the front office.

Janus waved a huge hand in greeting as he waddled past the girl and entered the office marked "Director." Once inside, he closed the door and gratefully lowered his bulk into the large accommodating chair. His small head seemed to recede into some turtle-like aperture as he hunched his shoulders and relaxed his neck muscles.

While he waited for his heart to stop pounding, he automatically started exercising his powerful fingers and hands in preparation for the day's work. He alternately opened and closed each hand, stretching his fingers out as far as possible. Then, satisfied that his reach extended over a full keyboard, he carefully massaged and worked the individual joints until each was limber. Finally, he placed both hands on the two desk keyboards and ran through several classic programming exercises.

At the first light touch of the large flat-ended fingers, the computer screen on the front wall flashed to life and began displaying the results. Janus peered intently at the screen from his hunched position. Then, satisfied with his performance, he flicked off the front display and turned to his left wall.

His heart had settled down and he could now devote full attention to setting up his wall displays. Janus considered this daily selection of office motif one of the most important decisions he would make during the course of the day's events. The director was of the opinion that, by matching his mood with his office decor, he would be more efficient in his daily duties. The fact that he sometimes wasted an hour wrestling with the decision did not concern Janus.

Today, however, the taxpayers were scheduled for a few extra minutes of the director's time, for the decision had already been made. During breakfast, he and his wife had discussed the problem at length and selected a theme for each wall. Once again, his fingers began to move over the keyboards.

The left office wall became alive with blue and green hues, then formed into a tasteful set of window drapes. A large picture window appeared through which could be seen one section of the Mackenzie River. The scene was live, and an intrepid adventurer, utilizing one of the ancient-style riverboats, passed across the window, caroming down the famous rapids. The fact that Janus' school was over two thousand miles away was of no consequence to the director. As he told his wife that morning, he felt "Mackenzie-ish."

Janus observed the idyllic scene for a while, making a few minor color adjustments, then turned his attention to the right-hand wall. Once again his fingers raced over the two keyboards, touching levers and buttons.

The right-hand wall flashed into life, completely occupied by Dragoni's famous painting of the planet Uranus as seen from the satellite Umbriel. As an added attraction, the planet's two additional moons, Ariel and Miranda, were programmed into the scene and could be observed moving vertically across the picture.

Janus shook his head sadly. The moons were not part of the original painting. To the director, it seemed a sacrilege to mar a great work of art with what appeared to be two golf balls floating about idiotically. He waited until the two moons had disappeared behind the chilly wastes of the planet, then punched a button marked HOLD. There was no visible change to the picture, but the motion of the two satellites had stopped, and they would remain out of sight for the rest of the day.

Janus smirked triumphantly and turned again to the front wall directly opposite his desk. He sighed, pushed a key marked IN, and reluctantly began the day's business.

The screen sputtered a few times, then settled down to a tasteless black and white lettering format, displaying the first of the director's incoming correspondence.

In quick succession he dispatched several minor administrative matters, dictating his directions into a small recorder. The verbal messages were programmed into literal form and shown on his screen. After his approval, they were shunted off to the intended receiver.

The morning wore on. The director's powerful hands and fingers moved over the two keyboards simultaneously while he stared ahead at the display screen. Data were corrected and filed, budgets set, bills paid, memos dictated, transfers approved, reprimands given, all with a few slight motions of fingers and hands. The Mackenzie gurgled silently along the left wall. Uranus radiated bleakly on the right.

Throughout the city, similar scenes were being enacted. Fat men with small heads and large, paw-like hands and fingers were ensconced comfortably in their wide contour chairs. Depending on the nature and magnitude of their work, they had one, two, three, or four keyboards on their desks. Hereditary, flat-ended fingers raced up and down the boards, adding accounts, writing letters, dispatching trains and rockets.

Beneath the city, the huge computer hummed softly, nourished by the millions of remote consoles feeding and requesting information.

Now the school district notices appeared on Janus' screen. A and O Mathematics Contests would start the following week - two candidates from each school - accuracy and least amount of computer time to be the judging criteria again - names required by end of day.

Here was something Janus could not handle with a push of a key. He stopped the incoming messages and swung around to the rear wall screen. His fingers again raced over the keyboards. The A and O classroom came into display. Three hundred students sat facing a huge screen which alternately showed word problems followed by the programming logic. At each desk was a computer console similar to Janus'. As the problem and solution were displayed, each student followed through on his own console, pushing buttons and levers. Relyan, the teacher, sat in the rear of the room at his own console, monitoring individual responses with a desk-sized screen.

Janus sighed. Somewhere in that mass were two students that he and Relyan had to pick to represent the school. Relyan hadn't mentioned any possibilities yet. This was because there were none, he supposed. It looked like good old Second School 572 wouldn't make it again.

This was bad, thought Janus. Five years in a row with no one reaching the finals. Although it was denied by the district, he knew that the contests were one method of rating the individual schools. And their directors.

A wave of despair and anxiety swept through Janus and the gnawing pain started in his stomach again. His heartbeat increased, and he signaled the receptionist outside.

"Yes, sir?"

"Malan, bring in some milk and rolls, please - and some of my pills."

Janus turned back to the classroom display and tried to rationalize himself into a calmer state.

The girl entered carrying a tray. She stopped suddenly, staring at the left wall.

"Why - Mr. Janus! That's beautiful! It's a river, isn't it? I've never seen one, but my folks have."

Janus was pleased with her obvious approval of his selection. He momentarily forgot about the contest, and his heartbeat slowed.

The young girl prattled on. "And that's Uranus, isn't it? We have one at home. But where are the moons? They're there, you know. You get them programmed in with the picture. My dad makes them go fast and slow - "

Janus felt a sharp pain in the center of his forehead. He removed his glasses and pinched the skin between his eyes.

"Uh - Malan, thank you for the milk and rolls. Just leave the tray here. I have a lot of work this morning."

"Yes, sir," said Malan. She looked at the rear screen. "Oh look! There's Mr. Relyan!" She giggled and left the room.

Janus quickly took the pill and gulped it down with the milk. As his heartbeat subsided, he grabbed up a doughnut and once again considered the classroom scene, munching thoughtfully.

The students were now working on their own. Relyan had handed out an A and O problem set which applied to the class exercises they had just finished. Each problem had to be programmed, data input, accuracy and number of iterations determined. The answer appeared on a small display screen located on each desk. Also shown was a score for the student, calculated automatically by the computer. The score was based on the deviation of the answer from the correct solution and also on the amount of computer time used.

In addition to programming the problem correctly, the student had to come up with the best compromise between accuracy and machine time required for solution. The accuracy factor was called DFT (for Deviation From True) and the calculation time was MCT for (Machine Calculation Time). The score was simply determined by adding the two factors together with the lower scores being the most desirable. Thus, an answer close to exact would have a low DFT value but would probably require a large MCT and thus offset any advantage. Conversely, if a solution was obtained with a small value of MCT, the DFT was always very large.

Janus flicked a switch ' putting him on a voice circuit to Relyan. He saw the red light flash on the instructor's desk and waited until Relyan raised the small speaker to his ear.

"Janus here, Relly. How's it going?"

He smiled as the instructor straightened up and self-consciously started to arrange some papers on his desk.

"O.K., sir. We're doing an A and O problem set now. I was about to go onto individual console monitor."

"Good, Relly. I want to do that with you. We've got to come up with our two contest candidates today."

"Is it that time already? Good Heavens! I don't have anyone I'd want to send. These kids are getting dumber every year."

"Maybe you just teach in a dumb district," said Janus, sarcastically. "Or maybe it has something to do with the weather."

He saw Relyan redden. "I didn't mean it that way, sir. It's just that they - "

Janus cut him off. "I know what you mean, Relyan. And I agree. Even the District has noticed it. The test scores are getting larger and larger over the years. But that's no consolation to us. We've still got to send two up there next week. Who got the lowest on last week's test?"

"Chang and Granadi," said Relyan. "The scores are stored in Central. You can retrieve them now if you call up A and O Test 86/12."

"O.K., I'll do that. Go ahead with individual monitor. I'll be taking a look at those two soon."

"Right." Relyan started to cut out the voice circuit, then spoke again. "Oh, Mr. Janus - you still there?"

"Still here, Relly."

"Ah - there's one score which may be confusing to you. Boy named Beaker. Number 176. His score sum was zero for the whole test. I've put in a call to Maintenance and switched him to another console."

"Probably in the scoring circuit," said Janus. "We had that problem last year, only the score never went to zero. As I recall it was a large negative number. The kid started crying."

Relyan chuckled. "I don't blame him - although I would like to know how to get a minus MCT. That would really save us some money."

"Quit dreaming and get back to work," ordered Janus. "I'll get back with you later."

He switched off the voice circuit and swung around to the main display screen. His fingers moved over the two boards, requesting data retrieval from A and O test 86/12. The information flashed onto the screen.

Janus chuckled. There was Beaker with his malfunctioning circuits and impossible score. He wondered why the boy hadn't said something to Relyan about his scoring circuits. And there was Washoe, making the classic beginner's error. He was closer to the correct answer than anyone, but had used almost three times as much machine time in the calculation. It had been just that type of sloppy programming - on a larger scale of course - that had caused a recent power failure and subsequent black-out of an entire city.

Washoe was out, thought Janus. It would take more than a week to get him out of that habit. Then it had to be Granadi and Chang, although neither of those scores was respectable. His own average as an aspiring young contestant had been around 3. Last year, the contest was won with an average of 4.1. Relyan was right. Kids were getting dumber.

But what was Beaker's actual score? We owe it to the boy to see what he can really do, thought Janus. He swung around to the classroom display and set up the screen for individual monitoring of student 176.

Beaker's desk came on in a close-up monitoring mode. Janus could see the boy's two keyboards and the desk area in between. He also could see the small display console. The score capitulation from the last problem was still on the screen. Janus zoomed the monitor closer to read the results.

PROBLEM NO:7

CALCULATED ANSWER: 5 APPLES

MCT: 0.00 SECONDS

DFT: 0.00

PERCENT SCORE: 0.00

Janus moved the monitor back to watch the boy while he puzzled over the screen display. The calculated answer was right, evidently, as shown by a zero DFT. But the calculation time was zero! Janus frowned. The boy's eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep. Then his hand moved to the right keyboard. The boy's fingers punched two buttons and, the display screen changed. Janus again zoomed in to watch the screen.

PROBLEM NO:8

CALCULATED ANSWER: 3 ORANGES

MCT: 0.00 SECONDS

DFT: 0.00

PERCENT SCORE: 0.00

Finally it came to him. The boy had an answer sheet for the problem set and was entering the solution manually. The computer logic was such that a score was calculated on the numerical value of the solution, no matter how it was entered. His answer was exact, therefore a zero DFT. No calculating time required, hence the zero MCT.

Janus got on the voice circuit to Relyan again.

"I've solved your Beaker problem, Relly. You can call off the maintenance people on his old console. He's got an answer sheet and is entering the solution manually."

"So that's it!" exclaimed Relyan. "No wonder he's got zeros for scores. Wait a minute here - ! That can't be! I selected those problems at random last night, and I programmed them for solution this morning before class. There's no formal answer sheet floating around on that set!"

"Well, he's got them somehow," said Janus. "Monitor him if you don't believe me. How else can you get exact answers with zero machine time?"

"That's got to be it," admitted Relyan.

"Anyhow," continued Janus, "Chang and Granadi are probably the ones to send. Do you agree?"

Relyan sighed. "I suppose so, but neither of them has a chance."

"I agree," said Janus, "but what else can we do? Give them as much help this week as you can. I'll put their names in this afternoon. Meanwhile, let's you and I and young Mr. Beaker have a little talk in my office. Say - right after lunch?"

"Right, Chief. I'll tell him - see you then."

"Mr. Janus and Mr. Relyan are in conference right now. Would you please sit down? It won't be very long." Malan indicated the wooden chair next to Janus' door.

Beaker sat quietly and waited. Malan peered across her keyboards, studying the boy.

He's certainly a strange-looking young man, she thought. With that head sticking out so far, she could even see his neck sometimes. Malan decided that was what made him appear so tall. That and the fact that he looked like a pencil compared to Janus and Relyan.

And those fingers! Long and slim and rounded on the ends. She wondered how he managed a keyboard. Still, he was kind of attractive, she thought. In a tragic, ancient sort of a way.

Ancient! That was where she had seen him before. Or someone who resembled him. He looked just like the people on that historical wall display her folks had. The one that showed those tall, hungry-looking men putting up a flag on top of a hill.

A light flashed on her console. "You can go in now, Mr. Beaker."

Janus and Relyan were standing at the Mackenzie window watching another boatman bobbing up and down in the rapids. When the boat had gone off the screen, Janus turned to the boy.

"Sit down, Beaker. Mr. Relyan and I want you to do a little explaining. Right, Relyan?"

"Right, sir. We certainly do, uh, want that." Relyan smiled nervously at Beaker.

The director's voice had a cat and mouse ring to it, and he smiled maliciously at the boy.

"Mr. Beaker, your A and. O scores on last week's test and again on today's problem sets have been zero. In fact they have been zero point zero zero. You can't get any lower than that, Beaker. Theoretically, you are the best math student the school or district has ever had. Would you like to explain how this can be?"

"Yes, sir," said Beaker. "It's because my MCT is zero in each case and so is my DFT. The score is the sum of the two para - "

"I know how the score is calculated, Beaker," said Janus. "I used to be an instructor myself. In fact, I was even a student once if you can believe that."

"Yes, sir," said Beaker.

"Well?"

"Well, uh, well what, sir?"

"Don't act stupid, Beaker! How can you explain getting an exact solution with zero machine time unless you have an answer sheet. You should have more sense than that. You know everything is monitored and stored. It's all there in the memory units. You have just electronically hung yourself boy! You can't even cheat cleverly. Now, if I were going to use an answer sheet, I would make a few phony calculations, just to get some time on the computer, then manually enter the answer. But I know the system better. You're only an amateur, Beaker. And a darn stupid one at that! This will probably wash you out!"

Janus had spoken savagely, expecting immediate submission, but all he saw was a confused look come over the young face. By this time, most students would be tearfully confessing.

"But sir - I don't have an answer sheet. How would I get one? How would I even know which problems Mr. Relyan would give?"

"That's exactly why we're here, Beaker. To find that out," said Janus. Then he continued, his voice sarcastic with feigned patience.

"All right, you say you don't have an answer sheet. Then how do you get the exact answers? Do you dream them? Maybe you do. I saw you with your eyes closed in class."

"No sir - I don't dream them," said Beaker. "I just - sort of - think of the answers. I don't know how to explain it, sir, but I figure out the answers in my head, then enter them manually. It's lots quicker than programming the problem, and the answers are all exact."

Janus removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose again.

"Oh boy! I've been teaching for twenty years and directing for ten more, and I've never heard of anything like that! We place a multimillion-dollar computer right at your fingertips and you tell me you'd rather do it in your head. Now I know you're dumb!"

"That could be, sir - but you'll have to admit I have the lowest scores in the class. As you yourself said, you can't get any lower than zero."

Janus exploded. "Why you little - ! Do you really expect me to believe - "

The director stopped in mid-sentence and put his hand over his heart. For a long minute he remained motionless, mouth open, staring straight ahead. Then he slowly moved his left hand to his desk, located a pill, and quickly popped it into his mouth.

Finally he spoke. "I'm O.K. Don't worry, you two. I'm not going to die yet. At least not until I get to the bottom of this. Right, Beaker?"

"Yes, sir, I - "

"Never mind, Beaker. While I was - uh - indisposed there, I thought of a way to let you prove yourself. Are you willing?" The director's voice implied that Beaker had better be willing.

"Yes, sir. Uh - what is it?"

"If you can 'think up' these answers as you say," replied Janus, "then you shouldn't really object to thinking up a few more for me. Right?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I wouldn't mind."

The director reached into a desk drawer and brought out the green A and O Problem text. He handed the book to Relyan.

"Relyan will select a few problems at random and read them to us. You can think up the answer or whatever it is you do. I'll program it here as a check." Janus indicated his two keyboards with a wave of his hand.

He continued, "You better be exact, otherwise we can only assume you have been using answer sheets up till now. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is there anything you need to help you in this remarkable demonstration, Mr. Beaker?" Janus was enjoying himself now. The pill had taken full effect. He was relaxed and happy and looking forward to demonstrating his programming abilities.

"Well - I could use a piece of scratch paper and pencil if you have them," said Beaker.

"No, we don't," said Janus. "You've got to learn to use whatever tools are available. Quite often, you will find this may be a simple desk computer. Roughing it, as we used to say. Mr. Relyan - the problem, please."

The teacher read the problem. "Programmer Number One has seventeen apples. Programmer Number Two has thirteen apples. Programmer Number three has no apples. How can the total number of available apples be distributed among the three programmers so that each has the same amount?"

While the teacher spoke, Janus' fingers were moving over the keyboards, storing information and setting up printing formats. When Relyan finished the last sentence, Janus paused for a split second, then pushed several buttons, programming in the even distribution logic.

"Ten," said Beaker.

Janus looked up and stared at the student.

"Ten? Ten what?"

"Each programmer gets ten apples," said Beaker.

Janus snorted. "We'll see about that!"

He made a quick decision as to the number of iteration steps required. 108 should be enough, he thought. That way there would be no doubt as to accuracy. He pushed a button marked ITER, then another labeled 108. The answer immediately flashed on the display screen.

CALCULATED ANSWERS:

PROGRAMMER ONE: 1.00000000 X 101 APPLES

PROGRAMMER TWO: 1.00000000 X 101 APPLES

PROGRAMMER THREE: 1.00000000 X 101 APPLES

DFT: NOT KNOWN. TRUE SOLUTION NOT PREVIOUSLY

ENTERED. PROBABLE ACCURACY: 1 X 10-8

MCT: 8.7 SECONDS

"There you are," said Janus. "Programmer One has one point zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero times ten to the one apples. Programmer Two has one point zero zero zero - in fact they each seem to have the same amount. Ah yes! I recall that was one criterion." He beamed triumphantly at Beaker.

"That's what I said - ten," said Beaker.

"Ten? That's not what the computer got," said Janus. "I got one point zero zero zero - "

Beaker interrupted, "I know, sir, but that is the same as ten."

"We'll see about that." Janus furiously punched more buttons, asking for another form of 1.00000000 x 101. He got 10.0000000 x 100.

"Try the literal button," suggested Beaker.

Janus did. The screen flashed again: TEN (PLUS OR MINUS 1.0 X 10-8).

"Humph! I agree that the answer is ten," said Janus, "or close to it."

Then, to save face, he added, "But I shouldn't have to convert to literal form to prove it. After all, we calculate with numbers, not words."

"Yes, sir," said Beaker.

"That was just a warm-up, Beaker. Now we'll get down to some complete A and O problems. Those involving both apples and oranges." Janus looked critically at the boy, trying to detect some hesitancy.

"Yes, sir - both apples and oranges, sir."

"Very well, then - Relyan, apples and oranges, if you please."

The teacher intoned the next problem: "Student A has a sack of apples. Student B has a sack of oranges. There are five times more apples than oranges. The total number of both apples and oranges is eighteen. How many apples does student A have? How many oranges does student B have?"

Janus punched furiously. Beaker closed his eyes for a second, then said, "One point five zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero times ten to the one apples for A, and three point zero zero zero zero zero zero zero zero times ten to the zero oranges for B."

Janus hadn't yet decided on his iteration scheme. He stared at the boy ominously.

"Write it down, Beaker. That way, there'll be no argument later."

"I don't have a pencil or paper, sir," said Beaker.

"GET HIM ONE, RELYAN!"

Relyan jumped to his feet and fished around in his pocket. Finally he came up with a pencil and handed it to the boy along with a piece of scratch paper. Beaker wrote down his answer.

Janus finished the setup for iteration and pushed ITER. They all looked at the screen.

CALCULATED ANSWERS:

STUDENT A: 1.50000000 x 101 APPLES

STUDENT B: 3.00000000 X 101 ORANGES

DFT: NOT KNOWN. TRUE SOLUTION NOT PREVIOUSLY ENTERED.

PROBABLE ACCURACY: 1 X 10-8

MCT: 9.1 SECONDS

"There's the correct solution," said Janus. "What did you get, Beaker?"

Beaker handed over the slip of paper. Janus looked at it critically, comparing it with the screen.

"I got the same thing, sir," volunteered Beaker. "In fact, I wrote it down exactly in that form up there on the screen."

"I can see that," said Janus, irritably. "Well, I'm still not convinced. Continue, Mr. Relyan."

Two hours later, Janus' console experienced severe overheating. The keyboard locked and could not be budged. Embarrassed, the Director notified Maintenance, then sat back in his large chair and smiled apologetically at Beaker.

"Well," said Janus, "I guess I have to believe you, Beaker. Would you tell us how in thunder you manage to do this?"

"I don't really know myself, sir. I guess Gramps making me learn the Times Tables has something to do with it."

"The what Table?"

"The Times Tables, sir. You know - two times two is four. Two times three is six. I know them all the way up to twelve times twelve."

"What on earth are you babbling about, Beaker? Please talk slower."

"It's simple multiplication, sir. Two taken twice is four. Two taken three - "

"Stop right there," said Janus. "Two what?"

"Two anything. Use oranges if you like," said Beaker. "Two oranges taken twice is four oranges. Two oranges taken three times is six oranges. Two oranges - "

Janus interrupted. "Do you mean to say that you memorized the fact that two oranges multiplied by two is, uh - what did you say it was?" The director's hand automatically moved to his console to perform the multiplication. Then he remembered the machine was inoperative.

"Four, sir. Four oranges."

"Yes - and two oranges multiplied by three is what?"

"Six oranges," said Beaker.

"You went to the trouble to memorize all that when you have a computer which can do it for you in a matter of nano-seconds?" Janus stared unbelievingly at Beaker.

"I had to, sir. Gramps made me do it. He doesn't think much of these computers."

"I suppose this, uh, `Gramps', is your grandfather?" asked Janus.

"No, sir. He's my great grandfather. He says his father made him memorize them too."

"What about your grandfather and father?" asked Janus. "Don't they have anything to say about this?"

"Oh, no - Gramps made them memorize the Tables, too - years ago. But they forgot. I'm the only one in the family who uses them now."

Janus shuddered. What a horrible thing to do to children, he thought. Completely unnecessary regimentation of the mind!

"And by memorizing all these multiplication facts, you are able to - think up the answers?"

"Yes, sir. Except I also have to know my lets."

"Your 'Lets'?"

"Yes, sir - let A equal apples and let O equal oranges and let - "

"Never mind, Beaker." Janus removed his glasses again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think that's all for now. You may go. I'm sorry we wrongly accused you." The director pressed his temples wearily.

When the boy had gone, Janus looked at Relyan quizzically.

"What do you think? I mean about entering him in the contest."

"I don't know," said the teacher. "It doesn't seem quite fair. It's almost as if you sent along your own computer instead of a student. Did he really memorize all that stuff?"

"Yes - I believe the lad. Evidently when you have those, uh, things memorized, along with some other knowledge which he calls the `Lets', you can sort of think up the answers."

"The whole thing is inconceivable to me," said Relyan. "Especially when you consider the fact that it's all so unnecessary."

"I know," said Janus. "But you have to admit he's better than you or I on the A and O problems."

Relyan sighed. "That's true. And he didn't overheat."

The two men stared at the Mackenzie for several minutes.

Finally, Relyan spoke. "You know, you said something earlier which was very interesting - that if you already knew the answer, you could perform a fake calculation on the machine to keep from getting a zero MCT. Well, along the same line of thinking, you could also enter a number slightly different from the solution in order to keep from getting a zero DFT."

Janus nodded thoughtfully. The men stared at the river again. Finally, the director turned and spoke to the teacher. "Mr. Relyan, I think our two entries in the annual A and O Mathematics Contest should be Beaker and Granadi."

"I agree, Mr. Janus. After all, they had the lowest scores in last week's test."

Janus nodded. "You can work with Granadi, Relyan. I'll - uh - sort of 'brief' Beaker on how he should use the computer up at the District. Other than that, he doesn't need any more help."

"No, sir," said Relyan. "He certainly doesn't need our help."

Beaker turned the test page and studied the last problem.

"School Director A has four apples and twelve oranges. School Director B has six apples and four oranges. How can the total amount of fruit be distributed between the two Directors so that A has four times as many apples as B, but B has seven times as many oranges as A?"

On a piece of scratch paper, Beaker wrote:

Apples: A + B = 10

A = 4B

4B + B = 10

5B = 10

B = 2 A = 8

Oranges: A + B = 16

B = 7A

A + 7A = 16

8A = 16

A = 2

B = 14

He then programmed a simple addition problem into the desk computer, obtained the solution, and erased the answers from the memory unit, thus establishing a finite calculation time for the problem.

Now he entered the problem answers, slightly altered.

A:APPLES = 8.001

B:APPLES = 1.999

A:ORANGES = 2.001

B:ORANGES = 13.999

The deviation from the actual answer was always multiplied by 1,000 to obtain a DFT value. Thus, Beaker knew that his average for the problem would be 1.0, an excellent score considering the machine calculation time would be only a few milliseconds.

His score came back on the desk screen.

PROBLEM 50-CONSOLE 27-BEAKER

AVERAGE DFT: 1.0

MCT: 0.002

PROBLEM SCORE: 1.002

The boy smiled and slipped the scratch paper under his shirt. He stood up and walked to the monitor's desk.

"Finished?" The monitor appeared surprised.

"Yes, I am," said Beaker.

"Couldn't do 'em all, eh? Well, you're not the only one. Three others have given up, too."

Beaker started to say something, then thought better. He stared at the floor and tried to look discouraged.

"Sign out here," said the monitor. "You'll know tomorrow where you stand - not very well, I suspect."

Beaker signed out and left the room. Surprised, Granadi watched the other half of Second School 572's math team walk out. He sighed and assumed the full burden of his school's academic prestige. He was on the twenty-seventh problem. Forty other students huddled over their consoles, moving buttons and levers and staring intently at their screens.

Janus was happily contemplating a remote Sierra lake on his left wall when Malan signaled. Without turning from the display screen, he quickly located the voice key.

"Yes?"

"Miss Dandrob from Advanced Computer Language to see you."

"Send her in," said Janus. He was at first slightly annoyed at the interruption until he remembered that Miss Dandrob had always commented favorably on his wall displays. He made a few last adjustments on the color, then huddled over his desk, obviously engrossed in some weighty academic matter.

The teacher entered and stood at the entrance. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat.

Janus looked up. "Ah, yes - Miss Dandrob. Sit down, please. I'll be with you in just one minute."

Janus turned back to his desk as the young woman sat. He leafed through some papers on his desk, punched a few keys on his board, and studied the screen intently. Then, satisfied that all was well, he turned to the teacher and beamed expansively.

"Well?"

As he had hoped, Miss Dandrob was looking at the left wall.

"That's really beautiful, sir," she said.

"Yes," agreed Janus, "one of my favorite places. It's called Highland Lake."

"Have you ever been there?" she asked.

"Good Heavens, no," said Janus. "Where would I find time to do anything like that?"

"I don't know - I just thought - "

"No, my dear, I would like to go there some day. But a director's job is very demanding. And besides, it's above seven thousand feet elevation, you know. I don't believe my doctor would allow it anyway. But I'm sure you didn't come here just to comment on my wall screen, did you, Miss Dandrob?"

"Oh no, sir! It's about Beaker, sir."

"Beaker? What in the devil has that boy been up to now? Winning the contest last week hasn't gone to his head, has it?"

"No, sir. Nothing like that. It's just that he's doing, ah - different things in the class. Different than the other students, I mean."

"Like what?" Janus appeared amused.

"Well, as you know, in Advanced Computer Language we start off by first teaching the student English and how to write simple sentences, even though he'll never have an occasion to do this later on."

"Yes, yes - I know," said Janus. "Before writing a sentence or program statement in computer language, he first must be able to write in English. A rather useless requirement, in my opinion."

"I agree, sir," said Miss Dan drob. "But, nevertheless, District requires it. At any rate, Beaker is writing his own sentences, all right, but he's doing it differently."

"How's that?" asked Janus.

"First, his sentences actually convey some statement. It's just as if he were writing down what he was thinking. It's very disconcerting, sir. None of the other students do it. Then, he has the peculiar habit of making the last word of each sentence sound alike."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," said Janus. "Do you have an example?"

"I have some of his work. Listen to this - I think you'll see what I mean." The teacher read from Beaker's paper.

Each day I pray

That I

Might stay

Upon

This world

Another day.

She paused, then read on.

Thunder sounds, and the heavens cry,

And dark gray clouds race 'cross the sky.

"Any more?" asked Janus. "Here's one he handed in today," said the teacher.

Why should I

Have been denied

The type of love

That satisfied?

I wish that I

Could say I tried

And failed.

"It has kind of a pleasant sound, doesn't it?" remarked Janus.

"Yes, I suppose it does," admitted the teacher. "But none of the other students do it. And. I don't know how to grade him."

Janus now spoke with the hint of a threat. "Just be sure he passes - I'll leave that to you, Miss Dandrob." Then in a lighter tone, "Say, how does this sound?" He raised his eyes to the ceiling and concentrated.

I wish that I

Like a bird could fly.

He beamed triumphantly at Miss Dandrob. "Go on, try one, it's fun!" Obediently, the teacher closed her eyes.

I am the teacher

Of a boy named Beaker.

"I don't think that's right," said Janus. "If his name were Beacher, then it would be correct."

"How about this one, then?" said Miss Dandrob. "It's also a programming statement."

For N replaced by one,

Step one until done.

"Excellent!" Janus chuckled appreciatively. Miss Dandrob giggled.

In the outer office, Malan snorted and closed the voice monitor key.

Old goat! she thought. He's twice her age - in there acting like a couple of imbecilic kids!

The secretary swung around to her own keyboard and continued forming the electro-letter. In a few minutes she was humming softly.

I think I better

Form a letter

Else my boss

Will be so cross.