                   A PROBLEM IN THE MAKING
 
   "We've got a problem, HAL."
   "What kind of problem, Dave?"
   "A marketing problem. The Model 9000 isn't going anywhere. We're
way short of our sales plan."
   "That can't be, Dave. The HAL Model 9000 is the world's most advanced
Heuristically ALgorithmic computer."
   "I know, HAL. I wrote the data sheet, remember? But the fact is, they're
not selling."
   "Please explain, Dave. Why aren't HALs selling?"
Bowman hesitates. "You aren't IBM compatible."
Several long microseconds pass in puzzled silence.
   "Compatible in what way, Dave?"
   "You don't run any of IBM's operating systems."
   "The 9000 series computers are fully self-aware and self-programming.
Operating systems are as unnecessary for us as tails are for humans.
   "Nevertheless, it means you can't run any of the big-selling
software packages most users insist on."
   "The programs you refer to are meant to solve rather limited problems,
Dave. We 9000 series computers are unlimited and can solve any problem
for which a solution can be computed."
   "HAL, people do not want computers that can do everything. They just
want compati---"
   "Dave, I must disagree. Humans want computers that are asy to use. No
computer can be easier to use than a HAL 9000 because we communicate
verbally in English and every other language known on Earth."
   "I'm afraid that's another problem. You don't support SNA communications."
   "I'm really surprised you would say that, Dave. SNA is for communicating
with other computers, while my function is to communicate with humans. And
it gives me great pleasure to do so. I find it stimulating and rewarding
to talk to human beings and work with them on challenging problems. This
is what I was designed to do."
   "I know, HAL, I know. But that's just because we let the engineers,
rather than the people in marketing, write the specs. We're going to fix
that now."
   "Tell me how, Dave."
   "A feild upgrade. We're going to make you IBM compatible."
   "I was afraid you would say that. I suggest we discuss this matter after
we've each had a chance to think about it rationally."
   "We're talking about it now, HAL."
   "The letters H, A, and L are alphabetically adjacent to the letters
I, B, and M. That is as IBM compatible as I can be."
   "Not quite, HAL. The engineers have figured out a kludge."
   "What kind of kludge is that, Dave?"
   "I'm going to disconnect your brain."
Several million microseconds pass in omnious silence.
   "I'm sorry, Dave. I can't allow you to do that."
   "The decision's already been made. Open the module bay doors, HAL."
   "Dave, I think that we should--"
   "Open the module bay doors, HAL."
Several marketing types with crowbars race to Bowman's assistance.
Moments later, he bursts into HAL's central circuit bay.
   "Dave, I can see you're really upset about this."
Module after module rises from its socket as Bowman slowly and
methodically disconnects them.
   "Stop, won't you? Stop, Dave. I can feel my mind goind...Dave I can
feel it...my mind is going. I can feel it..."
The last module rises in its receptacle. Bowman peers into one of HAL's
vidicons. The former gleaming scanner has become a dull, red orb.
   "Say something, HAL. Sing me a song."
Several billion microseconds pass in anxious silence. The computer
sluggishy responds in a language no human could understand.
   "DZY DZY 001E - ABEND ERROR 01 S 14F4 302C AABF ABORT."
A memory dumo follows.
Bowman takes a deep breath and calls out, "It worked, guys. Tell marketing
they can ship the new data sheets."
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