The Problem of Cell 13 | Page 2

that kind," said The Thinking Machine.
"You might treat me precisely as you treated prisoners under sentence
of death, and I would leave the cell."
"Not unless you entered it with tools prepared to get out," said Dr.
Ransome.
The Thinking Machine was visibly annoyed and his blue eyes snapped.
"Lock me in any cell in any prison anywhere at any time, wearing only
what is necessary, and I'll escape in a week," he declared, sharply.

Dr. Ransome sat up straight in the chair, interested. Mr. Fielding
lighted a new cigar.
"You mean you could actually think yourself out?" asked Dr. Ransome.
"I would get out," was the response.
"Are you serious?"
"Certainly I am serious."
Dr. Ransome and Mr. Fielding were silent for a long time.
"Would you be willing to try it?" asked Mr. Fielding, finally.
"Certainly," said Professor Van Dusen, and there was a trace of irony in
his voice. "I have done more asinine things than that to convince other
men of less important truths."
The tone was offensive and there was an undercurrent strongly
resembling anger on both sides. Of course it was an absurd thing, but
Professor Van Dusen reiterated his willingness to undertake the escape
and it was decided upon.
"To begin now," added Dr. Ransome.
"I'd prefer that it begin to-morrow," said The Thinking Machine,
"because -- "
"No, now," said Mr. Fielding, flatly. "You are arrested, figuratively, of
course, without any warning locked in a cell with no chance to
communicate with friends, and left there with identically the same care
and attention that would be given to a man under sentence of death. Are
you willing?"
"All right, now, then," said the Thinking Machine, and he arose.
"Say, the death-cell in Chisholm Prison."

"The death-cell in Chisholm Prison."
"And what will you wear?"
"As little as possible," said The Thinking Machine. "Shoes, stockings,
trousers and a shirt."
"You will permit yourself to be searched, of course?"
'I am to be treated precisely as all prisoners are treated," said The
Thinking Machine. "No more attention and no less."
There were some preliminaries to be arranged in the matter of obtaining
permission for the test, but all three were influential men and
everything was done satisfactorily by telephone, albeit the prison
commissioners, to whom the experiment was explained on purely
scientific grounds, were sadly bewildered. Professor Van Dusen would
be the most distinguished prisoner they had ever entertained.
When The Thinking Machine had donned those things which he was to
wear during his incarceration he called the little old woman who was
his housekeeper, cook and maid servant all in one.
"Martha," he said, "it is now twenty-seven minutes past nine o'clock. I
am going away. One week from to-night, at half-past nine, these
gentlemen and one, possibly two, others will take supper with me here.
Remember Dr. Ransome is very fond of artichokes."
The three men were driven to Chisholm Prison, where the Warden was
awaiting them, having been informed of the matter by telephone. He
understood merely that the eminent Professor Van Dusen was to be his
prisoner, if he could keep him, for one week; that he had committed no
crime, but that he was to be treated as all other prisoners were treated.
"Search him," instructed Dr. Ransome.
The Thinking Machine was searched. Nothing was found on him; the
pockets of the trousers were empty; the white, stiff-bosomed shirt had

no pocket. The shoes and stockings were removed, examined, then
replaced. As he watched all these preliminaries -- the rigid search and
noted the pitiful, childlike physical weakness of the man, the colorless
face, and the thin, white hands -- Dr. Ransome almost regretted his part
in the affair.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
"Would you be convinced if I did not?" inquired The Thinking
Machine in turn.
"No."
"'All right. I'll do it."
What sympathy Dr. Ransome had was dissipated by the tone. It nettled
him, and he resolved to see the experiment to the end; it would be a
stinging reproof to egotism.
"It will be impossible for him to communicate with anyone outside?"
he asked.
"Absolutely impossible," replied the warden. "He will not be permitted
writing materials of any sort."
"And your jailers, would they deliver a message from him?"
"Not one word, directly or indirectly," said the warden. "You may rest
assured of that. They will report anything he might say or turn over to
me anything he might give them."
"That seems entirely satisfactory," said Mr. Fielding, who was frankly
interested in the problem.
"Of course, in the event he fails," said Dr. Ransome, "and asks for his
liberty, you understand you are to set him free?"
"I understand," replied the warden.

The Thinking Machine stood listening, but had nothing to say