THE VARIABLE MAN
ILLUSTRATED BY EBEL
He fixed things—clocks, refrigerators, vidsendersand destinies. But he had no business in the future,where the calculators could not handle him.He was Earth’s only hope—and its sure failure!
Security Commissioner Reinhartrapidly climbed the frontsteps and entered the Councilbuilding. Council guards steppedquickly aside and he entered thefamiliar place of great whirringmachines. His thin face rapt,eyes alight with emotion, Reinhartgazed intently up at thecentral SRB computer, studyingits reading.
“Straight gain for the lastquarter,” observed Kaplan, thelab organizer. He grinned proudly,as if personally responsible.“Not bad, Commissioner.”
“We’re catching up to them,”Reinhart retorted. “But toodamn slowly. We must finallygo over—and soon.”
Kaplan was in a talkativemood. “We design new offensiveweapons, they counter with improveddefenses. And nothing isactually made! Continual improvement,but neither we norCentaurus can stop designinglong enough to stabilize for production.”
“It will end,” Reinhart statedcoldly, “as soon as Terra turnsout a weapon for which Centauruscan build no defense.”
“Every weapon has a defense.Design and discord. Immediateobsolescence. Nothing lasts longenough to—”
“What we count on is the lag,”Reinhart broke in, annoyed. Hishard gray eyes bored into thelab organizer and Kaplan slunkback. “The time lag between ouroffensive design and theircounter development. The lagvaries.” He waved impatientlytoward the massed banks of SRBmachines. “As you well know.”
At this moment, 9:30 AM,May 7, 2136, the statistical ratioon the SRB machines stood at21-17 on the Centauran side ofthe ledger. All facts considered,the odds favored a successfulrepulsion by Proxima Centaurusof a Terran military attack. Theratio was based on the total informationknown to the SRBmachines, on a gestalt of thevast flow of data that poured inendlessly from all sectors ofthe Sol and Centaurus systems.
21-17 on the Centauran side.But a month ago it had been24-18 in the enemy’s favor.Things were improving, slowlybut steadily. Centaurus, olderand less virile than Terra, wasunable to match Terra’s rate oftechnocratic advance. Terra waspulling ahead.
“If we went to war now,”Reinhart said thoughtfully, “wewould lose. We’re not far enoughalong to risk an overt attack.”A harsh, ruthless glow twistedacross his handsome features,distorting them into a sternmask. “But the