L O Y A L T Y

This work is copyright of Charles E. Weindorf  (1987) and may not be
posted to other electronic forums or media, or placed in print without
                the written permission of the author.
                                  
     "RARR!" Dale yelled as he slammed a massive fist onto his boss's
desk.  "My network technicians aren't going to work third shift."
     Jack Troy, the network supervisor, frowned at his gigantic guru,
but he decided to let the tall man continue.
     "I don't care if we're trying to get the majority of the computer
contracts in this area.  I don't care if Megorth Computer Services is
trying to undercut our prices.  All I know is we were hired to work
normal business hours, not the middle of the night.  Look at our
contract, and you'll see it's a legal fact.  What do we look like?  Owls
or something?"
     Jack started to answer Dale's last question before thinking better
of it.  "Be reasonable, Dale.  DP-Matic Incorporated trained you to
maintain the mainframe and network, and the hours you work shouldn't
matter.  Can't you get some volunteers to cover the third shift until a
regular crew is trained?"
     "Tell you what," Dale growled, raising his voice twenty decibels. 
"When the President of DP-Matic comes in to work third shift with us, we
won't complain.  Otherwise, we take a walk if you make us work nights.  I
hear Megorth is looking for a few good technicians..."
     "All right," Jack Troy waved his hand angrily.  "I'll think of
something else without your help.  Get back to work."
     After calming himself with a mild sedative, Jack rubbed his
pounding temples and tried to organize his thoughts.  The DP-Matic
President himself had demanded an increase in productivity without an
increase in computer equipment.  Jack remembered the first Data
Processing departments had used third shift before the year 2000.  After
the Surgeon General released a report stating night work affected a
person's IQ, most businesses were forced to drop the late hours.  It
became something of a political football, and many unions based contract
on eliminating night shifts.  If a CEO couldn't make his business
successful in daylight time, no amount of night hours would help.  There
had to be another way to run the computers all night at peak efficiency. 
Jack pounded the switch on his touch-sensor intercom.
     "Set up an appointment with that salesman from Mechanical Menials,"
the Supervisor told his secretary.  "I'm desperate."

     "Greetings Mr. Troy!" the brash, young salesmen grinned as he burst
into Jack's office.  "My name is Gary Buddy, and I was really excited to
hear DP-Matic was considering a robot."
     "Lord," Jack prayed as he suffered through the salesman's opening
pitch, "please forgive me for wanting to strangle this guy already."
     "...An important contract like yours would really bring attention
to our fine product!" Gary spurted.
     "Look Gary," Jack broke in.  "I'm taking a real risk just talking
to you.  If I replace a human with a robot, unions yell, reporters flock
and workers stampede for the doors.  I need something that won't alienate
anyone.  At the same time, it has to be cheap.  You must have heard
Megorth has cut their rates again, and our budget's going down to the
bare bones."
     "Indeed, I do understand your plight," Gary smiled.  "And I've
brought Mechanical Menial's newest and finest product with me today.  We
have been waiting for such a valued new customer to be the first
recipient of this device."
     "It is untested in the field?" Jack threw his hands up in mock
surrender.  "We won't be a test sight for any automation product!"
     "But you owe it to yourself to see it," Buddy soothed.  "Enter!"
     Jack watched as a small box on nylon wheels zipped into the room. 
The robot was one meter square and sported a dozen mechanical arms.  An
electronic eye on a small pedestal scanned the office eagerly.  The
supervisor thought this was the most hyper-looking machine he had ever
seen. The multi-function mechanical arms were constantly in motion, and
the darting eye appeared to catalog all of the work that would need to be
done to clean Jack's office.
     "Mr. Troy," Gary Buddy waved his arm dramatically, "this is the
Allegiant C."
     "It looks like a can opener," Jack chucked, "and an un-stable one
at that.  Why would Mechanical Menials sell a robot that doesn't resemble
a person at all?  I thought you specialized in human-looking androids? 
This thing is a refugee from the last century."
     "Indeed it appears to be just that," Gary was quick to agree, "but
that's intended to bolster the human worker's self esteem.  If we sell a
robot that looks like a twentieth century food processor, we don't give
anyone an inferiority complex.  In reality though, the Allegiant C is a
servant of the highest order."
     "What does it do?" Jack asked as he eyed the curious contraption. 
"Can it run my computer room at night."
     "Glad you asked me that, Jack,"  Gary clapped.  "The Allegiant C
has been configured to run your entire mainframe and network.  Each
mechanical attachment is geared to a certain piece of computer equipment. 
It has three optical disk loader arms.  It has nine arms that are used to
clean and service the various printers, mass storage units and
controllers you have.  It doesn't need a mechanical typing hand, because
it responds to computer messages and problems directly to the network. 
In effect, it is a logical and physical participant in your system."
     Jack closed the door to his office after hearing Dale imitate the
salesman.  Jack had enough when the lead technician started saying "It
slices, it dices, it feeds the dog."
     "Please go on," Jack asked.
     "The Allegiant C has no need of technical manuals.  It contains a
procedure for every problem that you could run into.  If the Allegiant C
is unsure of a new problem or a new piece of software, it can call up to
ten different programmers at once.  All done via a cellular hook up.  It
will have a printed summary on your desk each morning about any unusual
occurrences, and it will be available to give you a report any time you
wish to call in."
     "Nice," Jack nodded.  "But what about big problems?  If my system
or network goes down, what can this tin can do that my people can't?"
     "You have a highly automated computer room that can diagnose itself
and call a service center on its own.  Still, you have to wait for the
repair technicians to arrive, wasting hours of productivity.  But you
won't have that problem any more.  The Allegiant C is so flexible that it
can emulate any piece of equipment in your computer room.  If an optical
disk reader fails, the Allegiant plugs itself into the reader port and
becomes a disk.  The same thing for a printer, controller or mass storage
unit.  In fact, anything but the central processor itself can be replaced
by the Allegiant C until the original is repaired.  The Allegiant C even
carries a set of replacement chips for most of the devices."
     "Wow," Jack exclaimed honestly.  "Can it make coffee?"
     "A coffee maker attachment costs just five million dollars," Gary
Buddy shot back.
     "Quit pulling my leg," the Supervisor laughed.  "You can't get a
good one for less than six millon."
     "Well, you caught me," the salesman shrugged.  "It can't make
coffee, but I haven't told you the best thing about the unit."
     "There's something more?" Jack frowned as searched the Allegiant C
for a clue at the hidden function.
     "Yes," Gary grinned with pride.  "The Allegiant C's logic chips
have been supplemented with something special.  The function is hidden in
the robot's name itself, Allegiant.  This is the top-secret Loyalty
Algorithms."
     "What are you talking about?" Jack puzzled.  "Are you saying this
robot feels loyalty?"
     "Not only feels loyal, it is entirely devoted to your company,"
Buddy explained.  "The robot will do anything for the benefit of its
owner.  You are its King; it is your vassal.  Your company can do no
wrong where the Allegiant is concerned.  It would destroy itself rather
than let its Lord come to harm."
     "Impressive," Jack sighed.  "But I'm sure it comes with an equally
impressive price tag, and Megorth has sapped all of our profits away."
     "Indeed," Gary spread his hands.  "But that is what makes your
company the perfect first customer.  We believe the Allegiant C can turn
your entire company around, and for this purpose, we'll give you the
Allegiant C."
     "What?" Jack laughed.  "What does Mechanical Menials get out of
this deal?"
     "We'll have two benefits from this.  The first is the publicity of
your rapid recovery.  Customers will be breaking down our doors to order
one.  The second is that you'll attend one seminar to tell what you
thought of the Allegiant C."
     "What if I don't like it?" Jack asked in surprise.
     "Then you can tell every data processing supervisor in the world
that you didn't like the product.  We're sure you'll be more than
satisfied, though."
     "One last thing," Jack Troy ventured.
     "Sure," the agreeable salesman replied.  "Name it."
     "You must never sell one of these to Megorth Computer Services."
     "My superiors have already anticipated this request," Buddy nodded. 
"Megorth won't get an Allegiant C."
     "Its a deal then," Jack said.  "When can we have Allegiant C?"
     The salesman spoke the words "You're sold" to the robot, and the
Allegiant C darted our the door and into the computer room.  Jack grinned
as he heard Dale curse in surprise at the speeding robot.
     "Good luck," Gary Buddy waved as he left.
     "If this thing works," Jack thought, "luck will be obsolete."

     It was a couple of days before Jack Troy checked on the Allegiant
C.  He was surprised to see the computer room was immaculately clean: not
a thing was out of place.  He was also surprised to see his technicians
reading newspapers.
     "What is going on here, Dale?" Jack growled at his lead technician. 
"What am I paying you for?"
     "You know," the large man said as he put aside his paper, "I was
going to ask you the same thing."
     "Get out of that chair and do some work," the supervisor yelled.
     Dale went back to reading his paper.  "I tried that, and it didn't
work.  You try to be a technician."
     "All right," Jack fumed as he moved to the console.  He read one
optical disk reader was requesting a spin test.  Before the supervisor
could walk to the disk storage cabinet, the Allegiant C charged past him,
took the controller off line and shot back to the optical disk drive. 
Within two seconds, the robot was finished with the spin diagnostic and
had started to sweep the floor.  Again, Jack tried to respond to a system
request, but the robot was far faster.  The DP-Matic executive watched in
amazement as the Allegiant C charged from task to task.
     "Could I see you in my office, Allegiant?"  Jack asked, and the
robot sped ahead to open the office door.  Jack sat down at his desk as
the Allegiant C closed the door, waiting for the boss to speak.
     "Allegiant," Jack began, "your reports from your first two night
shifts were very well written.  You seem to be handling our equipment
perfectly."
     "Thank you, sir," the robot answered in a voice that sounded like a
ten year old boy.  "But please call me Al.  You'll find it much easier to
use in conversation."
     "OK, Al," Jack agreed.  "I wanted to talk to you about the daytime
workers."
     "They're good people," Al nodded his eye scanner.  "I like them
all."
     "I understand you got into an argument with one of them," Jack
said.  "Someone was complaining about working conditions."
     "Yes," Al agreed.  "But I told the person that DP-Matic has
excellent working conditions, and that they were mistaken."
     "You are loyal to the company," Jack noted.  "I need to know who it
was."
     "I cannot tell you that, sir," the robot declined.  "It would be
disloyal to the technician."
     "If the company has a disgruntled employee," Jack reasoned,
"shouldn't I know about it?  What about your loyalty to me."
     "If I report this employee's mistaken impression," Al answered
quickly, "I would harm the employee even though there was no problem at
all.  It is best I keep this misunderstanding confidential, preventing
any hard feelings."
     Jack chuckled to himself.  While Al sought to keep from being
disloyal to the employee or the company, it had made a solid decision. 
Could it be this machine was better at handling people than some of the
other company supervisors?
     "Al," Jack continued, "I'm amazed at the amount of work that you're
able to do, but you have to understand my technicians should do some of
the work during the day.  If the President of DP-Matic walked in and saw
them relaxing on company time, there would be a lot of former employees."
     The machine jerked all of its limbs slightly in a movement that
could only be described as a shiver.
     "I never thought of that," it whispered.  "I could have caused them
to be fired?"
     In an instant, the robot shut itself off.
     Jack waited for Al to turn himself back on, but the robot remained
quiet.  The supervisor even got up from his desk and prodded the silent
machine.  Before he touched Al again, Jack punched in a number on his
video phone.  A moment later, the image of the Mechanical Menials
salesman appeared.
     "Buddy," Jack Troy yelled without preamble, "your damn robot just
committed hari kari in my office."
     "Calm down, Jack," Gary replied.  "You must have triggered the
robot's Conscience Mechanism.  If it faces a situation in which it cannot
be entirely devoted to its owner, it shuts itself off - rather than do
the wrong thing.  Whatever you told it must have made it think it was
harming the company.  Even though it's shut off, it's still listening to
our conversation.  Tell it how it can help you, now how it could hurt
you."
     Jack turned back to the robot, wondering if this would classify him
as one of the first mechanical psychologists.
     "Al," Jack started, "I didn't mean to say your work would get them
fired.  I need you to do the more mundane cleaning and maintenance when
they're here.  Let them respond to the system requests, and you can
answer any questions that they have."
     Al jumped to life at once.
     "That would be a pleasure, sir!" it agreed eagerly.  "May I get
started?"
     "Yes, yes," the supervisor answered tiredly before the robot bolted
from the room.
     "You see," Gary said, "The Conscience Mechanism was put in place so
no one could order Al to harm your company.  It won't even listen to me
anymore.  It's your servant alone."

     The following morning, Jack was enjoying his fourth cup of coffee
when Dale stalked through the door of his office.  The supervisor knew
there was something different about the large man, but he couldn't put
his finger on it.  Ah, yes.  Dale was smiling.
     "I wasn't going to mention this at all," Dale began, "but Al made
me come in here."
     "What's on your mind?" Jack said curiously.
     "Last night, Al was scheduled for maintenance for two hours," Dale
explained, "but he told us that he didn't require a tune-up yet.  Since
the mainframe computer was to be shut down for the same two hours as Al,
the robot didn't have anything to do."
     The lead technician looked out of the door to see if he could
escape, but Al was just outside, gesturing for him to continue.
     "Anyway, I figured Al should have a night out," Dale said in a
rush.  "We took him to our softball game."
     "WHAT?" Jack yelled as he spilled most of his coffee on his desk. 
"You took a multi-trillion dollar, one-of-a-kind robot to a Mudsox game?"
     "Wait," Dale held up his hands.  "Al is fine, but I had to tell you
what he did.  It was the greatest thing that has ever happened to our
team."
     Jack was too intrigued to continue yelling, so he let the big
Mudsox player continue.
     "At first, Al was keeping the score book and cheering for the
Mudsox louder than anybody.  Before long, we were letting him coach.  He
was sending signals to our batters with all twelve arms, and he
deciphered the other team's bunt and steal signs.  By the seventh inning,
we were down by one run with two outs, but we had runners at first and
third.  Al signaled for the runner on first to steal.  There was a big
cloud of dust as the runner slid into second.  The umpire called him out. 
We were all leaving the field when Al charged out to second and began
arguing with the Ump.  He said 'He missed the tag, I saw it with my
infrared sensor.'  Of course, the umpire would hear nothing of it, and he
tried to leave, but Al wouldn't quit.  Al popped open one of his control
panels and replayed the whole steal on a small video screen.  He played
it back a dozen times.  Magnified.  Reverse angle.  Slow Motion. 
Holographic.  With a sound track.  You name it.  We all saw the runner
was really safe, but the umpire refused to change the call.  This is when
things got good.  Al printed a copy of the umpire's handbook and ripped
it up in front of the ump.  Then he threw the scraps into the air and
started kicking artificial turf onto the umpire's shoes.  Al became the
first robot to be thrown out of a regulation softball game.  Even though
he wasn't allowed to coach any more, Al appealed the play to the home
plate umpire, and he agreed with Al!  He reversed the call, I hit the two
runners home, and we were the winners.  It was the strangest game I've
ever been in."
     Jack let his blood stop boiling before speaking.
     "If you tell anyone else about last night, you'll be cleaning the
garbage cans in the cafeteria for a month.  This story does not go out of
this office."
     Dale grinned at the idle threat, but he agreed.
     "I won't turn Al in.  He's the best decision you ever made, and I
think he's made this a great place to work.  Listen to this."
     Dale motioned for Allegiant C to enter the office, and the robot
obeyed at once.
     "Al," the lead technician asked, "what's my average?"
     ".405," Al replied, "but if you used the green bat instead of that
gold one, you'd hit more doubles."
     "Forget it," Dale growled.  "How would you like me to demonstrate
that bat's accuracy on your head...wherever that is."
     Jack kicked both of them out of his office, hoping he never had to
hear a story like that again.

     It was a couple of months before the Allegiant C reported its first
problem, but Jack Troy couldn't tell anything was wrong with the robot.
     "You say your personality chips are near failure?" Jack inquired. 
"You sound fine to me."
     "They will go down within the next 48 hours," Al affirmed.  "I'll
have to have Mrs. Marsh replace them.  I'm not allowed to change
personality chips by myself."
     Jack remembered that Mrs. Marsh was the only employee of DP-Matic
that was certified to change computer chips.  She was over 60 years old
and had learned the skill from her grandfather.  Jack hoped she could
take time off from cooking lunch in the cafeteria to change the chips.
     "Hurry down to the cafeteria, Al," Jack directed.  "I'll tell Mrs.
Marsh that you're on your way."

     Mrs. Marsh smiled at the funny looking robot as it sped toward her. 
She had seen every computer and robot in the past 50 years, but she knew
they had never become entirely self sufficient.  And it was a good thing
too!  Her skill at maintaining complicated little machines had allowed
her to get around the mandatory retirement age of 35 and continue to do
what she like best: cooking.
     "Good day, Mrs. Marsh," Al greeted.  "Would it be too much trouble
to have you change a chip set for me?"
     "Not at all," Mrs. Marsh said kindly.  "Open up your access panel
and give me your replacement chip set."
     The Allegiant C complied, and Mrs. Marsh examined the logic and
loyalty chip package.
     "Hmm," She said.  "Al, could you read the part numbers on these
chips?  My eyes aren't what they used to be."
     "Certainly," Al complied.  "They are series number 135715-18208..."
     Al thought about the series number.  Something in the deepest nests
of his loyalty circuits screamed the numbers back to him, and he suddenly
realized what a fool he had been.  It all made sense now.  He knew what
he must do.
     "It looks like the chips labeled 'Conscience Logic' are over
heating," she warned.  "Should those be replace also?"
     "No," Al responded coldly.  "I'll work better without them."
     "You know best," Mrs. Marsh shrugged.
     "I do now," Al agreed.

     Jack hummed to himself as he walked into the doors of the DP-Matic
corporation.  It was February 2nd, exactly six months since the Allegiant
C's arrival, and Jack was a living legend.  Sales were up.  Operating
costs were down.  Megorth Computer Services had posted huge losses at the
end of the last year.  In fact, Megorth, the one time arch-enemy, was
begging for peace with DP-Matic.  They were even offering the owners of
DP-Matic the controlling interest in Megorth after a lucrative merger. 
Yes, Megorth was finished!
     And, it was all because of Mr. Jack Troy, corporate hero and
managerial superman who had found the Allegiant C robot at no cost to the
company.  Al had made the computer room so efficient that DP-Matic sold
three times as much processing time as it could have with an all human
day time staff.  And with Megorth out of the way, prices for DP-Matic
computer time would start going up, up, up!  There was even a rumor that
the board of directors was going to vote for an across the board raise. 
Everything was perfect.
     Jack walked into the computer room and froze.  Every piece of
electronic equipment in sight had been smashed.  All of the optical
drives, printers, consoles, controllers, mass storage units, optical
disks and the mainframe central processor itself had been reduced to
piles of twisted metal, gallium arsenide and optical fibers.  The
supervisor stared at the wreckage in horror for a long time.  February
2nd.  The darkest day in DP-Matic History.
     At last, he heard the steps of a very large man approaching from
behind him.
     Dale stood next to his boss for a few moments, looking at the
terrible sight.  Finally, the lead technician was able to speak.
     "Boss,"  he said intently, "did the groundhog see his shadow
today?"
     Jack magically jerked back to life.  He sprang for Dale's throat
with both hands.
     "You!" the smaller man screamed, "you did this.  If it's the last
thing I do, I'm going to kill you."
     "Wait," said a venomous voice behind supervisor.
     Jack turned, coming face to face with the Allegiant C.
     "Dale is innocent,"  Al said in a voice that could have come from
an executioner.  "I was the one who did it."
     With that, the Allegiant C threw a twisted, gold bat at the two
men's feet.
     "My lucky bat!" Dale cried.
     "I don't know what went wrong with you, Al," Jack said, "But we can
recover this entire room with insurance money.  The data on these devices
was backed up and kept in remote sights.  We'll get you repaired and
everything will be back to normal."
     "That's what you think," Al snarled.  "I've been to all of the
backup sights and ruined them too.  This company has ceased to exist!"
     Jack Troy fell silent as the depth of the damage sank in.  As he
saw it, there could be only one reasonable response.  The supervisor
picked up the gold bat and swung it at the robot with all of his might. 
The solid bat crashed deep into the Allegiant C, and it began to speak.
     Crash!
     "What?  No blindfold and cigarette?"
     Crash!
     "That is the best hit that bat had all year."
     Crash!
     "Jack stands amid the rubble of Helen's city..."
     Crash!
     The Allegiant C fell silent long before Jack finished beating it. 
After a half hour, Dale had enough and decided to rescue his old friend.
     "Give me my bat, boss," Dale said as he took the crumpled metal
weapon.  He walked off to see if his insurance policy covered this sort
of thing.
     Jack knelt on the ground next to the robot that had given DP-Matic
its second life.  What had gone so wrong with the machine that was
guaranteed to be dedicated to its Lord?
     The supervisor picked up one of the Allegiant C's chip boards and
was about to throw it when he noticed an infamous inscription on one of
the chips.  The very inscription that Mrs. Marsh couldn't read, but Al
must have.
     "Loyalty Logic Chip - Mechanical Menials," it read, "Provided by
MCS."
     "MCS," Jack mumbled, "Megorth Computer Services."