Chapter 27 Chapter Twenty-Five

Obviously, there are many questions about life, perhaps the most common of which is: Why are people born?Why die?Why do people want to wear electric watches for part of their lives?Many, many million years ago, a superintelligent pan-dimensional race (their physical characteristics in their own pan-dimensional universe were no different from ours) became tired of the endless debate about the meaning of life Well, the debate even affected their favorite pastime, "Bad Boy Extreme Cricket" (a weird game of hitting people out of the blue for no reason and then running away), so they decided to sit down and Fix this problem once and for all.

To do this, they built a gigantic supercomputer that was so amazingly smart that it started with "Cogito, therefore I am" and deduced rice pudding and personal income tax before it even connected to a database. existed until someone later shut it down. It is as big as a small city. Its main control console was installed in a specially designed operating room on a huge operating table made of fine mahogany and covered with deep red leather.The dark carpet looks formal and luxurious, exotic potted plants and photos of the main computer programmers and their families are carefully scattered around the room, and the windows look out to a tree-lined public square.

On the big day of the official start-up, two programmers in formal suits came here with briefcases and cautiously entered the operating room.They are well aware that at this most important moment, they represent the entire race.However, they still tried their best to calm themselves down, sat calmly in front of the operating table, opened their briefcases, and took out their leather-bound notebooks. Their names were Runkville and Fork. For a moment they sat in silence, and then, after exchanging glances with Fogg, Lankville leaned forward and touched a small black instrument panel. There was a faint hum, indicating that the giant computer was now fully operational.After a brief pause, it began to speak in a full, sonorous, deep voice.

It says: "I, Deep Thought, what is the great task of the birth of the second most powerful computer in all space and time in the entire universe?" Rankeville and Fogg looked at each other in surprise. "Your mission, computer..." began Fogg. "No, wait a minute, that's not right," Runkville said worriedly. "We're going to design the most powerful computer ever, not some second most powerful. Think deeply," he said to the computer, "don't you Isn't it the largest and most powerful computer ever designed, as we designed it?"

"I call myself the second most powerful," mused musingly, "then I am." The two programmers exchanged another worried look.Lankwell cleared his throat. "Something must have gone wrong," he said. "Aren't you better than the computer on Maximjaron called the 'Big Brain' that can count all the atoms in a star in a millisecond?" Is it stronger?" "Billion giant brain?" Deep Thought said in an unabashedly contemptuous tone, "It's just an abacus at best—it's nothing to worry about." "Aren't you," said Fokker, leaning forward nervously, "than the 'Googie Interstellar Thinker', the one that could calculate every 10 minutes in a five-week dust storm on Dangraband Beta?" Is a computer a better human analyst of the trajectory of a single speck of dust?"

"A dust storm that lasts for five weeks?" said Deep Thought haughtily. "Don't you want to ask me the definite vectors of all the atoms at the moment of the Big Bang? Please don't bother me with the mentally handicapped problems of this pocket calculator." .” The two programmers were silent for a while, feeling like they were sitting on pins and needles.Rankeville finally leaned forward again. "But aren't you," he said, "a crazier debater than that wonderful and indefatigable super-homogenous neutron lobbyist on Ciceronix 12?" "Super homologous neutron lobbyist," said Deep Thought, rolling his tongue deliberately, "can tell the four legs of the Arcturus donkey to separate—but only I can tell it to go backwards."

"So," asked Fogg, "what is the problem?" "There is no problem." Deep Thought said in a singing voice, "I am the second most powerful computer in all space and time in the entire universe." "But, number two?" Rankeville insisted, "Why do you always say number two? Surely you don't think of a giant compound corticosteroid grinder, do you? You don't think it's a thinking machine, either? Or... ..." A light representing contempt flashed on the console of the computer. "I'm not going to give even one iota of thought to these control system idiots!" It emphasized, "I'm not talking about anything but the computer that will come after me!" "Fokk was losing his patience. He pushed his notebook aside and muttered, "That sounded like a fucking messiah." "

"You don't know anything about the future," said Deep Thought, "yet the vast number of circuits in my body can predict, by analyzing the infinite stream of data about future possibilities, that a computer will eventually appear, and The most basic operating parameters are beyond my calculation, but this computer is destined to be designed by me in the end." Fogg sighed heavily and looked towards Lankville. "Can we keep asking questions?" he said. Rankeville motioned him to wait a little longer. "What exactly is this computer you're talking about?" he asked. "I don't want to talk about it right now," said Deep Thought. "Now, ask me anything else you want to know. Just ask."

The two programmers shrugged at each other.Fogg collected himself. "Deep Thinking Computer," he said, "we've given you this task. We want you to tell us..." He paused. "Answer!" "Answer?" Deep Thought said, "Answer to what?" "Life!" said Fogg urgently. "Cosmos!" said Rankeville. "Everything!" they both said in unison. He pondered for a while. "It's kind of tricky," it said at last. "But you can do it?" "Yes," said Deep Thought, "I can do it." "Is there an answer?" asked Fogg, almost breathless with excitement.

"A concise answer, can it be done?" Rankeville added. "Yes," said Deep Thought, "life, the universe, and everything. The answer is yes. Only," it added, "I have to think about it." A sudden commotion marred the moment: the door was slammed open, and two angry-faced figures in the rough, faded blue drawstring robes of Crookswang University burst in, throwing a man who tried in vain to hold them back. The doorman fell aside. "We demand to go in!" shouted the younger of the two, pushing an elbow into the throat of a young secretary. "Come on," the older one also shouted, "You can't stop us!" He pushed a programmer away from the door.

"We solemnly declare that you cannot keep us out!" the young man yelled, though he was now firmly inside the house and met no further attempts to stop him. "Who are you?" Rankeville stood up angrily from his seat, "What do you want to do?" "I am Manjixes!" the older man declared. "I solemnly declare that I am Rumfondel!" cried the young man. Majestic turned to Rumfondel. "Enough," he said exasperatedly, "there's no need to state this solemnly." "Okay!" Rumfondel cursed and slammed his fist on a table beside him, "I am Rumfondel, and this is not a statement, but pure fact! All we ask for is pure fact!" "No, we're not!" said Manjikseth angrily. "That's not what we're asking for!" Barely taking a breath, Rumfondel yelled, "We don't ask for pure facts! What we ask for is no pure facts. I ask that I may or may not be Rumfondel!" "Damn it, then who are you?" Fogg couldn't bear it. "We," said Majikses, "are philosophers." "Though we might not be," said Rumfondel, waving his finger warningly at the programmers. ’ “Yes, we are philosophers,” insisted Manjikseth. “We are here for the express purpose that, as representatives of the union of philosophers, sages, prophets, and other thinkers, we wish to close this machine, we want it shut down now!" "What's wrong?" asked Rankeville. "I'll tell you what's wrong, buddy," said Manjikseth. "Division, that's the problem!" "We demand," Rumfondel began yelling again, "that the division of labor may or may not be the problem!" "You keep these machines running," Majikthes warned, "thank you. But the Eternal Truth is ours. If you want to inquire about your legal status, do so, man. By law, The search for ultimate truth is clearly the inalienable privilege of us thinkers among you. If any goddamn machine ever found it, we'd be straight up out of a job, wouldn't we? I mean, we've been Debating whether or not there is a God in the middle of the night, but what good is our work if this machine gives you God's goddamn phone number the next morning?" "Exactly," cried Rumfondel, "we solemnly declare that the realms of doubt and uncertainty are strictly assigned to us!" Suddenly, a loud voice sounded in the house. "Can I say a few words about this?" Shen Si asked. "We're going to organize a strike!" cried Rumfondel. "That's right!" echoed Majikses. "You're going to start a national strike of philosophers!" The hum in the room suddenly increased.Several auxiliary subwoofers surrounding the room were turned on to increase the loudness of the contemplative sounds. "What I want to say," growled the computer, "is that my circuits have now irrevocably begun to calculate the answers to the ultimate questions about life, the universe, and everything." Satisfied with the attention, he lowered the volume, "But running this program will take me a little while." Fogg glanced impatiently at his watch. "How long?" he asked. "7.5 million years." Deep Thought replied. Rankeville and Fogg looked at each other. "7.5 million years!" they said in unison. "Yes." Deep Thought said, "I once said that I had to think about it, didn't I? I figured out that running such a program would inevitably trigger a media frenzy on popular philosophy. As for the answer I finally came up with, every Everyone will have a theory, and in the media market, who can speak more than you when it comes to this topic? As long as you insist on attacking each other fiercely, slap each other in the mass media, as long as you have smart agents , you can make a lot of money for a lifetime without breaking a sweat. How does that sound?" The two philosophers stared at him dumbfounded. "Damn it," said Majikseth, "that's what I call thinking. You see, Lumfondel, how come we never thought of that?" "No idea," whispered Rumfondel with awe, "our brains must be too well trained, Manjikseth." With that said, they turned and walked out the door, throwing themselves into a life beyond their wildest dreams.