To play the game of life well, compare it to chess, considering the second- and third-level consequences of every action.

—GILBERTUS ALBANS, Reflections in the Mirror of the Mind

The Discussion Chamber was one of the Mentat School’s largest classrooms, an auditorium with dark-stained walls covered in statesmanlike images of the greatest debaters in human history, ranging from famous ancient orators of Old Earth, such as Marcus Cicero and Abraham Lincoln, to Tlaloc who had instigated the Time of Titans, to speakers from recent centuries, such as Renata Thew and the unparalleled Novan al-Jones. When educating Gilbertus on Corrin, Erasmus had made sure his young protégé was familiar with the very best.

In an anteroom, Gilbertus reviewed his notes for the risky discussion he intended to lead, then made his way out onto the stage. With fifteen of his best students already undergoing battlefield tactical training—in accordance with Manford Torondo’s request—Gilbertus felt obligated to provide at least some level of mitigation, a voice of reason. He wanted the students to ponder the implications … but would they listen?

As he reached the podium, the classroom fell silent out of respect for the Headmaster. “Today’s lesson deviates from our usual form of tactical training. We will be taking a different approach, a change of pace.”

These were the best of his current class of Mentat trainees, hand-selected for their analytical prowess—and Manford was demanding their services for his crusade. Gilbertus never voiced his resentment at being forced to sacrifice such talented students in a cause to which he was fundamentally, and secretly, opposed.

“A crucial component of designing a successful strategy is learning to think like your enemy. This is not a natural goal: It must be practiced, and some of you may find it a difficult and extremely uncomfortable challenge. Therefore, we will debate the merits of both sides of a key issue, to help you explore the mindset of the opposing side. We will discuss the merits of thinking machines.” After an audible gasp or two, the students seemed to hold their breath. He paused, noting their intent expressions, then spoke in a clear voice. “Consider the postulation that thinking machines, in some properly restricted forms, may play a safe and useful role in human society.”

This elicited some murmurs of surprise, and angry glances from the students that Manford Torondo had sent to the school.

Gilbertus gave a slight smile. “With so many of you about to join the Butlerian ships, it is appropriate to think about what you’re fighting for, and what you’re fighting against. Out there, you will clash with the Machine Apologists, planetary leaders who sincerely believe they can put thinking machines to good use and keep them under control.” All the students were interested, though their uneasiness was palpable in the air.

He made his own choice, a redheaded young woman seated in the middle; he had planned this debate with her in mind. “Alys Carroll, you will be my opponent. I look forward to a skilled, spirited discussion.”

She rose to her feet and walked toward the stage, straight-backed and determined. Gilbertus said to the entire class, “I will argue one side of the issue, and Alys Carroll will support the opposite point of view.” He removed a bright, gold Imperial coin from his pocket. One side bore the image of Serena Butler, and the other the open hand of the Landsraad League. “Heads, and Alys will argue on the side of the thinking machines as a Machine Apologist. Tails, and I will take that side instead.”

The angry young woman looked uncertain, but before she could say anything, he flipped the coin into the air, caught it, and opened his palm. Gilbertus glanced at the coin and covered it without displaying the result to the students. While Erasmus had difficulty with the concept of lying, a Mentat had no such handicap, especially not in a case such as this. The exercise should be quite fruitful, and the single-minded Butlerian woman needed to grapple with objectivity.

“Heads,” he said. “Alys, you shall argue on behalf of the thinking machines.”

The young woman’s eyes widened. Gilbertus was amazed at how quickly the blood drained from her face.

“I open the matter for debate,” he continued, smiling. “Your objective in the discussion will be to highlight the benefits that computers and robots might bring to humankind. Convince us all that this point of view has merit. I will defend the Butlerian position.”

Alys hesitated. “I beg of you, please don’t ask me to do this.”

Gilbertus, having projected that he might encounter initial resistance, gave the answer he had prepared. “Mentats must discipline themselves to examine a problem from all angles, not just from the point of view that matches their own belief systems. As your instructor, I have given you an assignment. As the student, you will complete that assignment. You know the facts, Alys, and I want you to make a projection. Tell me the good that thinking machines could accomplish.”

Alys turned to face the audience, fumbling for words. Finally, she said, “Machines can be used in training Swordmasters to fight more effectively against machines. They have their uses, but the danger…” She opened and closed her mouth, and a flare of indignation replaced her hesitancy. “No. There can be no benefits to thinking machines. They are anathema.”

“Alys Carroll, I did not ask you to argue my side of the issue. Please complete your assignment.”

Alys bristled. “Advanced technology is destructive. Therefore I forfeit the debate. The point cannot be won!”

“It can be done.” Hoping to salvage this potentially valuable lesson, Gilbertus said, “Very well, I will take the Machine Apologists’ position, and you may make the Butlerian argument. Does that suit you better?”

She nodded, and Gilbertus realized he was looking forward to the opportunity. The audience seemed intrigued by this turn of events.

Alys plunged in. “This is a frivolous exercise, Headmaster. Everyone here knows the machines’ history of brutality and slavery—centuries of domination, first by the cymek Titans and then by the evermind Omnius. Trillions killed, the human spirit crushed.” She flushed with outrage, then tried to calm herself. “It must never happen again. There is no counterargument.” Several of the Butlerian students grumbled their agreement.

Gilbertus sighed. “I disagree—as I must for the sake of debate. The Machine Apologists assert that we can tame thinking machines and have them serve humanity. They contend that we should not discard all machines just because of the excesses of Omnius. What of agricultural harvesting machinery, they ask, and construction machinery to erect shelters for the homeless? And medical devices to cure the sick? There are legitimate humanitarian uses, they assert, for automated machines and computer systems.”

“I doubt if the downtrodden human populations who suffered and died on the countless Synchronized Worlds would agree!” Alys sniffed. “But those victims cannot speak for themselves.”

Gilbertus regarded her with a mild expression. “That might seem a legitimate basis for outlawing thinking machines—if it weren’t for the fact that humans prosecuted the atomic purges across the Synchronized Worlds. Humans killed billions or trillions of captives on those planets, not thinking machines.”

“It was necessary. Even though those enslaved populations are dead, they are still better off.”

Gilbertus seized the opening. “And how can we be certain they would agree? The assumption that they would choose death over life under the rule of Omnius is insupportable. A Mentat cannot make valid projections without accurate data.” He turned to look at her. “Have you ever spoken directly with any human who lived on the Synchronized Worlds under the efficiency of machine rule? As you point out, they are all dead.”

“This is absurd! We know what life was truly like under machine domination—many firsthand accounts have been published.”

“Ah, yes, the damning histories written by Iblis Ginjo, Serena Butler, and Vorian Atreides—but those accounts were designed to inspire hatred of machines and to incite League humans to violence. Even the stories of slaves rescued from the Bridge of Hrethgir were skewed and used as propaganda in the writing of history.”

He realized that his voice was rising, and he calmed himself. Through his hidden spyeyes, Erasmus would be listening in with great interest, and he hoped to make his mentor proud of him.

“But let us step back and consider the general principles of how properly tamed technology should serve mankind. Robots have the capability of performing repetitious, time-consuming, or complex tasks such as collecting data, harvesting crops, or calculating safe navigational routes. Accepting limited machine assistance would free humans to make new advances.”

“When Omnius enslaved the human race, we had little time to advance and improve,” Alys pointed out, to a satisfied muttering from her supporters.

“But by prohibiting the use of sophisticated machines—machines that we developed to benefit humanity—we deny the progress humanity has made throughout history, and we condemn ourselves to resuming the practice of slavery. Because we turn our backs on machinery that could perform essential functions, human beings are taken from their homes and families, shackled, beaten, and forced to perform menial labor that machines could do instead. Many people die doing arduous and hazardous work, simply because we refuse to use thinking machines. Is that moral, or intelligent? One could argue that the violent Buddislamic uprisings against human slavemasters on Poritrin were as justifiable and necessary as the Jihad against thinking machines.”

She shook her head briskly. “Oh no, it’s entirely different. The Buddislamics refused to fight at our side.”

Gilbertus swallowed an ill-advised retort and took a deep breath. “A difference in philosophy is not a just cause for enslavement.” An awkward pause followed, because many of the school’s students came from worlds that still relied on slave labor.

When Alys struggled to counter his words, Gilbertus noted that the normally self-assured young woman was faltering, repeating points she’d already made. It meant she was running out of ideas. This gave him hope. If he could subtly convince the Butlerian Mentat candidates, perhaps he could guide more people back to sanity.

But abruptly, several students began to call out disagreements, no longer listening, and trying to shout him down instead.

“Please, please!” Gilbertus raised his hands for calm. Perhaps he had taken it too far. “This is just an exercise, a learning experience.” He smiled, but did not get the friendly response he’d hoped for. Instead, he found himself debating the handful of hostile students; even Alys could barely get a word in.

Paradoxically, he found himself winning the discussion, but losing control of it—and of the audience. As the uproar continued, he surveyed the room and saw to his disappointment that most of the students were uneasy. Even those who had earlier expressed agreement with his logic were now afraid to show it in the face of the Butlerian vehemence.

Several students left their seats and walked out. One turned from the upper doorway of the hall and called down to the stage, “Machine Apologist!”

The class ended in a furor.

*   *   *

GREATLY UNSETTLED, GILBERTUS hurried to his office, locked the doors, and retrieved the Erasmus core from its hiding place, but felt no relief when he held the pulsing sphere in his shaking hands. “I think I made a mistake.”

“That was a fascinating performance and most enlightening. I am curious, however. You knew there were Butlerian sympathizers in the audience. They did not wish to hear a debate, only to see their beliefs reaffirmed. As a Mentat, you must have projected the possible effects of your words on such unreceptive listeners.”

Gilbertus lowered his head. “I was unforgivably naïve. I simply presented logical arguments, exactly as you and I have always done in our debates.”

“Ah, but others are not as rational as we are.”

Gilbertus set the memory core down on a table. “Have I failed miserably, then? I founded this school to teach logical analysis and projection.”

“Perhaps the Butlerians reacted so vehemently because they could sense what you truly believe. The eternal human battle of emotion versus intellect, of the right and left hemispheres of the brain fighting for control. Human life is a constant struggle, while superior machines don’t need to bother with such nonsense.”

“Please don’t use this as an excuse to assert machine superiority! Help me find a solution, a way out. I need to defuse the situation before Manford returns. He took his ships to the Tlulaxa worlds, but he’ll certainly hear a report of this when he gets back.”

“Fascinating, how things can go wrong so quickly,” Erasmus said. “Positively fascinating.”