“It just goes to show that you can’t trust Americans,” Eklund said. “I’ve always thought we should keep our awards on this side of the Atlantic where people 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—preferably with female names. It’s a form of insecurity, the mother fixation. But that’s not important. I’m afraid, gentlemen, that we shall have to make the award as we have planned. I can see no way out. After all, there’s no reason why the machine cannot receive the prize. The conditions merely state 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 even appreciate 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 is the 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 something of a standing joke that King Gustaf would probably outlast the pyramids, providing the pyramids lived in Sweden. “I’m sure His Majesty will cooperate. He has a strong sense of duty and since the real problem is his, not ours, I doubt if he will shirk it.”
“How do you figure that?” Eklund asked.