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A PRIZE ... FOR EDIE
By J. F. BONE
Illustrated by Schoenherr
_The Committee had, unquestionably, made a mistake. There was no doubt that Edie had achieved the long-sought cancer cure ... but awarding the Nobel Prize was, nonetheless, a mistake ..._
The letter from America arrived too late. The Committee had regardedacceptance as a foregone conclusion, for no one since Boris Pasternakhad turned down a Nobel Prize. So when Professor Doctor Nels Christiansonopened the letter, there was not the slightest fear on his part, or on thatof his fellow committeemen, Dr. Eric Carlstrom and Dr. Sven Eklund, thatthe letter would be anything other than the usual routine acceptance.
"At last we learn the identity of this great research worker," Christiansonmurmured as he scanned the closely typed sheets. Carlstrom and Eklundwaited impatiently, wondering at the peculiar expression that fixed itselfon Christianson's face. Fine beads of sweat appeared on the professor'shigh narrow forehead as he laid the letter down. "Well," he said heavily,"now we know."
"Know what?" Eklund demanded. "What does it say? Does she accept?"
"She accepts," Christianson said in a peculiar half-strangled tone as hepassed the letter to Eklund. "See for yourself."
Eklund's reaction was different. His face was a mottled reddish white ashe finished the letter and handed it across the table to Carlstrom. "Why,"he demanded of no one in particular, "did this have to happen to us?"
"It was bound to happen sometime," Carlstrom said. "It's just ourmisfortune that it happened to us." He chuckled as he passed the letterback to Christianson. "At least this year the presentation should be anevent worth remembering."
"It seems that we have a little problem," Christianson said, making whatwould probably be the understatement of the century. Possibly there wouldbe greater understatements in the remaining ninety-nine years of theTwenty-first Century, but Carlstrom doubted it. "We certainly have ournecks out," he agreed.
"We can't do it!" Eklund exploded. "We simply can't award the Nobel Prizein medicine and physiology to that ... that _C. Edie_!" He sputtered intosilence.
"We can hardly do anything else," Christianson said. "There's noquestion as to the identity of the winner. Dr. Hanson's letter makesthat unmistakably clear. And there's no question that the award isdeserved."
"We still could award it to someone else," Eklund said.
"Not a chance. We've already said too much to the press. It's known allover the world that the medical award is going to the discoverer of thebasic cause of cancer, to the founder of modern neoplastic therapy."Christianson grimaced. "If we changed our decision now, there'd be allsorts of embarrassing questions from the press."
"I can see it now," Carlstrom said, "the banquet, the table, the flowers,and Professor Doctor Nels Christianson in formal dress with the Orderof St. Olaf gleaming across his white shirtfront, standing before thatdistinguished audience and announcing: 'The Nobel Prize in Medicine andPhysiology is awarded to--' and then that deadly hush when the audiencesees the winner."
"You needn't rub it in," Christianson said unhappily. "I can see it, too."
"These Americans!" Eklund said bitterly. He wiped his damp forehead. Thepicture Carlstrom had drawn was accurate but hardly appealing. "One simplycan't trust them. Publishing a report as important as that as a laboratoryrelease. They should have given proper credit."
"They did," Carlstrom said. "They did--precisely. But the world, includingus, was too stupid to see it. We have only ourselves to blame."
"If it weren't for the fact that the work was inspired and effective,"Christianson muttered, "we might have a chance of salvaging this situation.But through its application ninety-five per cent of cancers are nowcurable. It is obviously the outstanding contribution to medicine in thepast five decades."
"But we must consider the source," Eklund protested. "This award will makethe prize for medicine a laughingstock. No doctor will ever accept another.If we go through with this, we might as well forget about the medical awardfrom now on. This will be its swan song. It hits too close to home. Toomany people have been saying similar things about our profession and itstrend toward specialization. And to have the Nobel Prize confirm themwould alienate every doctor in the world. We simply can't do it."
"Yet who else has made a comparable discovery? Or one that is even half asimportant?" Christianson asked.
"That's a good question," Carlstrom said, "and a good answer to itisn't going to be easy to find. For my part, I can only wish that AlphaxLaboratories had displayed an interest in literature rather than medicine.Then our colleagues at the Academy could have had the painful decision."
"Their task would be easier than ours," Christianson said wearily. "Afterall, the criteria of art are more flexible. Medicine, unfortunately, isbased upon facts."
"That's the hell of it," Carlstrom said.
"There must be some way to solve this problem," Eklund said. "After allit was a perfectly natural mistake. We never suspected that Alphax was aphysical rather than a biological sciences laboratory. Perhaps that mightoffer grounds--"
"I don't think so," Carlstrom interrupted. "The means in this case aren'tas important as the results, and we can't deny that the cancer problem isvirtually solved."
"Even though men have been saying for the past two generations that theanswer was probably in the literature and all that was needed was someonewith the intelligence and the time to put the facts together, the factremains that it was C. Edie who did the job. And it required quite a bitmore than merely collecting facts. Intelligence and original thinking ofa high order was involved." Christianson sighed.
"Some_one_," Eklund said bitterly. "Some _thing_ you mean. _C.Edie_--C.E.D.--Computer, Extrapolating, Discriminatory. Manufacturedby Alphax Laboratories, Trenton, New Jersey, U.S.A. _C. Edie!_Americans!!--always naming things. A machine wins the Nobel Prize.It's fantastic!"
Christianson shook his head. "It's not fantastic, unfortunately. And Isee no way out. We can't even award the prize to the team of engineers whodesigned and built Edie. Dr. Hanson is right when he says the discovery wasEdie's and not the engineers'. It would be like giving the prize to AlbertEinstein's parents because they created him."
* * * * *
"Is there any way we can keep the presentation secret?" Eklund asked.
"I'm afraid not. The presentations are public. We've done too good a jobpublicizing the Nobel Prize. As a telecast item, it's almost the equal ofthe motion picture Academy Award."
"I can imagine the reaction when our candidate is revealed in all hermetallic glory. A two-meter cube of steel filled with microminiaturizedcircuits, complete with flashing lights and cogwheels," Carlstrom chuckled."And where are you going to hang the medal?"
Christianson shivered. "I wish you wouldn't give that metal nightmare apersonality," he said. "It unnerves me. Personally, I wish that Dr. Hanson,Alphax Laboratories, and Edie were all at the bottom of the ocean--in somenice deep spot like the Mariannas Trench." He shrugged. "Of course, wewon't have that sort of luck, so we'll have to make the best of it."
"It just goes to show that you can't trust Americans," Eklund said. "I'vealways thought we should keep our awards on this side of the Atlantic wherepeople are sane and civilized. Making a personality out of a computer--ugh!I suppose it's their idea of a joke."
"I doubt it," Christianson said. "They just like to name things--preferablywith female names. It's a form of insecurity, the mother fixation. Butthat's not important. I'm afraid, gentlemen, that we shall have to makethe award as we have planned. I can see no way out. After all, there's
noreason why the machine cannot receive the prize. The conditions merelystate that it is to be presented to the one, regardless of nationality,who makes the greatest contribution to medicine or physiology."
"I wonder how His Majesty will take it," Carlstrom said.
"The king! I'd forgotten that!" Eklund gasped.
"I expect he'll have to take it," Christianson said. "He might evenappreciate the humor in the situation."
"Gustaf Adolf is a good king, but there are limits," Eklund observed.
"There are other considerations," Christianson replied. "After all, Edie isthe reason the Crown Prince is still alive, and Gustaf is fond of his son."
"After all these years?"
Christianson smiled. Swedish royalty _was_ long-lived. It was somethingof a standing joke that King Gustaf would probably outlast the pyramids,providing the pyramids lived in Sweden. "I'm sure His Majesty willcooperate. He has a strong sense of duty and since the real problem ishis, not ours, I doubt if he will shirk it."
"How do you figure that?" Eklund asked.
"We merely select the candidates according to the rules, and accordingto the nature of their contribution. Edie is obviously the outstandingcandidate in medicine for this year. It deserves the prize. We wouldbe compromising with principle if we did not award it fairly."
"I suppose you're right," Eklund said gloomily. "I can't think of anyreasonable excuse to deny the award."
"Nor I," Carlstrom said. "But what did you mean by that remark aboutthis being the king's problem?"
"You forget," Christianson said mildly. "Of all of us, the king has themost difficult part. As you know, the Nobel Prize is formally presentedat a State banquet."
"Well?"
"His Majesty is the host," Christianson said. "And just how does one eatdinner with an electronic computer?"
THE END
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact and Science FictionApril 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that theU.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
The following corrections were applied to this text:
Page 55: _but awarding the Nobel Prize was, nonetheless{original hadnonethelesss}, a mistake ..._
Page 56: "It was bound to happen{original had happn} sometime," Carlstromsaid.