Asimov’s Future History

Volume VI

All stories copyright Isaac Asimov and the Estate of Isaac Asimov, unless otherwise noted below.

All other stories copyright by the respective authors listed below.

Cyborg-By William F. Wu. First published as Isaac Asimov’s Robot City, Book 3: Cyborg, November 1987

Prodigy-By Arthur Byron Cover. First published as Isaac Asimov’s Robot City, Book 4: Prodigy, January, 1988

Refuge-By Rob Chilson. First published as Isaac Asimov’s Robot City, Book 5: Refuge, March, 1988

Perihelion-By William F. Wu. First published as Isaac Asimov’s Robot City, Book 6: Perihelion, June, 1988

Changeling-By Stephen Leigh. First published as Isaac Asimov’s Robot City: Robots and Aliens 1: Changeling, August, 1989

This  ePub edition v1.0 by Dead^Man March, 2011

Layout and design by Dead^Man

Cover art “2028_City” By Knesya of DeviantArt

Future History inlay “Summer days” by Talros of DeviantArt

Cover design by Dead^Man

Chronology of events in Isaac Asimov’s positronic robot and Foundation stories, compiled by Johnny Pez.

Table of Contents

Copyright

3604 AD Cyborg

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

3604 AD Prodigy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

3604 AD Refuge

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

3604 AD Perihelion

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

3605 AD Changeling

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Sources of dates

Cyborg

3604 A.D.

Chapter 12

TEAMWORK

ARIEL SCOOTED OVER to Derec with a look of concern. Even in his stunned condition, he appreciated it.

“You hurt bad, Derec?”

“No.” His voice came out in a coarse mutter. “Got the breath knocked out of me, but that’s all. How about you?”

“I’m all right. Thanks for getting in his way.”

He grinned. “Any time, just so it isn’t too often.” He inhaled deeply a couple of times.

She took him under one arm and helped him to his feet. “Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

“Never. The positronic brains have always been totally reliable. That record is known everywhere.” He dusted himself off. “I think the shock is worse than getting knocked down.”

“This one’s not reliable, that’s for sure.”

“Did you see where he went?” Derec looked down the street.

“No, but a couple of other robots went chasing after him. They must have been close enough to see what happened.”

“I guess I heard a few footsteps. Let’s go inside. I want to get on the console and find out if there’s been any warning about a rogue robot.”

She followed him inside. “The robots chasing him weren’t shouting or anything. I suppose they were all talking through their comlinks.”

“I guess.” He rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the wall, and winced. “I wonder what kind of insults robots exchange among themselves.” He sat down at the computer and called up a variety of subjects — including warnings, city alerts, and suspected malfunctions. Nothing turned up.

“Maybe the malfunction just occurred,” Ariel suggested. “We’ll be the first ones to report.”

“I’ll do that. Let’s see.... Malfunctioning robot does not obey the Laws. Since he actually attacked us, the rest of the robots will make searching for him a top priority. I imagine they’ll even leave their regular jobs.” He entered a description of the pertinent events.

“Doesn’t it seem odd to you that he came here?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re the only people on the planet, that anyone can find. The others are lost. And this city is huge.

Isn’t it kind of strange that the one robot here who goes berserk just happens to wind up at the only apartment with humans in it?”

He paused for a moment at the keyboard. “I see what you mean. Of course, since the positronic failure involves the Laws, maybe he was drawn somehow to humans.” He shrugged and continued on the console.

“They did know! Look at this — I got it when I entered the subject of searches.”

She leaned down close, reading over his shoulder. “Wait a minute. What kind of weird robot are they searching for?”

“I’m not sure he’s exactly a robot at all. It says: see Human Experimental Medical Team. Let’s see.”

A moment later, he was reading in fascination. “He’s human! Or at least, his brain is.”

“His brain?”

“Look at this!” Derec pointed out the summary of the surgery on the computer’s screen. “Unbelievable!”

“That’s impossible,” Ariel said, “transplanting a brain into a robot body.”

“Everything’s been impossible since we got here.” Derec shook his head, as though to clear it. “We should be used to it by now.”

“If you can ever get used to being surprised. What do we do now?”

“I’m trying to get the central computer to put me through to one of the robots on the medical team through their comlinks.”

“Yes?” said a voice through the console.

“I am Derec, a human male. Please identify yourself.”

“I am Human Medical Research 1, the Director of the Human Experimental Surgical Team.”

“I have some information regarding a robot who doesn’t obey the Laws of Robotics.”

“Excellent. We have been conducting a pattern search from the perimeter of the city inward, with the help of many robots. Can you narrow the focus of search for us?”

“I’d like to see you and your team in person. Please come meet with Ariel and myself.”

“We will do this. May I ask why you are delaying in providing me with helpful information?”

“This problem may be larger than it appears. The robot in question seriously disobeyed our instructions and physically attacked us. I think a major consultation is in order, don’t you?”

“We will come at once.” The robot’s voice was suddenly formal and expressionless.

“Say — tell me one thing now. Has this guy’s spacecraft been located? What kind of shape is it in?”

“It was destroyed on impact. What is your location?”

Disappointment struck Derec like a physical blow, but he gave them the information. Then he began pacing restlessly, trying to keep his spirits up.” At least the medical robot can tell us if he was traveling with the other two we’ve been looking for. It isn’t over yet. We’ve made some kind of progress, believe it or not. It’s about time.” He slapped a fist into his other palm. “We still just might learn something we can use.”

“You think this guy is one of the humans we’re looking for?” Ariel, too, was crestfallen.

“I think so. Remember the third visitor, who just vanished after a certain point? This must be the one. I figure the reports of him stopped because he was in a robot body.”

“I was hoping he had arrived on another ship. It would give us an extra chance.” Disappointment was evident on her face.

The medical team arrived shortly. Derec told the three robots what had transpired and then asked for the relevant information they possessed. They briefed him on what they had told Jeff.

“So it’s not a failure of the positronic brain,” Research 1 finished. “However, we have consulted among ourselves and have concluded that we must enter a repair facility to have our brains removed and destroyed.”

“What?” Derec cried. “You can’t do that. We need your help.”

“We created a situation in which a robot body violated the First Law by attacking humans. This is a violation of the First Law on our part. We would have reported immediately after the transplant~urgery if we had understood where it would lead.”

Derec looked at the two robot surgeons, who nodded in agreement. The three of them were standing together in a line, as though prepared for law-enforcement questioning. Maybe that was what they expected from a human, after violating the First Law.

“But you didn’t attack anybody,” said Ariel. “You were one step away from the situation. You can’t take responsibility for what he — you said his name was Jeff? — decided to do.”

“Besides, he didn’t hurt us,” said Derec. “It just surprised us. Well — totally shocked us, actually.”

Surgeon 2 shook its head. “The extent of the harm is not a factor, since the Laws do not make allowances for degree. Nor is our ignorance of your presence a factor. The fact that we are one step removed from the incident is the only reason that we did not shut down upon learning of this violation of the First Law. If we had directly harmed a human, the trauma to our systems would have completely neutralized our functioning. However, this individual would not exist in the unusual form he does without our contribution. He is unique, and is our responsibility.”

“Look at it this way,” said Ariel anxiously. “We need help. If Jeff is still out there running around, he could conceivably do more harm to us. Doesn’t the First Law require you to cooperate with us?”

“We have proven our judgment irresponsible,” said Surgeon 1. “You cannot rely on us. Therefore, we should be destroyed.”

“You haven’t violated the Laws any other time, have you?” Derec pointed out.

“No, but we have no other history of contact with humans,” said Research 1. “In our initial contact with humans, we contributed to a violation —”

“Of the First Law, I know. You don’t have to keep repeating it,” said Derec. “But I shouldn’t have phrased the question that way. You still haven’t broken the Laws. Jeff did, sort of. Only, since he doesn’t have a positronic brain, that doesn’t really count.”

“Our information about human behavior is apparently incomplete,” said Research 1. “We did not understand the likelihood of Jeff’s attack on you. In fact, the central computer did not even inform us of your presence. We felt his medical condition was such that the First Law required our attempting the transplant. However, one purpose of the First Law that I infer is to preserve humans from the greater strength of our robot bodies. So to us, Jeff in this case counts as a robot, despite his lacking a positronic brain. This judgment will not be imperative on his brain, of course.”

“If the First Law required you to perform the transplant, how can you blame yourselves?” Ariel asked.

“That seems like a real contradiction. One that I wouldn’t expect from the logical mind of a robot.”

“The logical contradiction has only become evident now,” said Surgeon 1. “In the sequence of events as they unfolded, the First Law has made clear requirements of us, including our elimination.”

Derec looked at them helplessly, unable to think of an argument against their destruction that they had not countered already.

“Postpone your trip to the repair center,” Ariel suggested. “If you think it’s required, you can do it later.

Right now, we really need your help, like we said.”

“That’s right,” said Derec quickly. “How about this? The First Law requires that you help us catch Jeff and, I don’t know — stop him somehow. Then you can destroy yourselves.”

The three robots hesitated long enough to reveal that this argument had carried some weight.

“Isn’t it your responsibility to help clean up the mess?” Ariel added, with a triumphant smile. “The Second Law requires that you follow our orders to help. Since you have never directly violated any of the Laws, including the First, you’re reliable enough for us.”

“This is acceptable to me,” said Research 1. “We shall retain the option of having our brains destroyed later, in any case.”

“I find it acceptable, also,” said Surgeon 1. “Unnecessary destruction of our brains would be an inefficient handling of material, energy, and experience. We should logically establish the necessity of this move beyond any doubt, with as much gathering of relevant evidence as possible.”

“Whew,” said Surgeon 2. The robot looked at Derec. “That is the human vernacular appropriate to the occasion, is it not?”

“Sure is.” Derec laughed in relief. “Okay. That problem is solved. Next problem. We want information from this guy about getting off the planet. You just want to make sure he can’t violate any of the Laws.

What’s our plan of action?”

“You will have to take the lead in direct confrontation,” said Research 1. “Any plans will have to take this into account.”

“What do you mean?” Ariel asked.

“Since we know that Jeff has a human brain,” said Surgeon 1, “we are subject to the Laws when dealing with him. We could not disobey his instructions, for instance, if he told us to leave him alone. Or worse, to forget that he exists at all.”

“Hold it,” said Ariel, holding up a hand. “You’re upset about his breaking the laws because he’s a robot, but now you say you have to obey the Laws where he’s concerned because he’s human. Aren’t you contradicting yourselves?”

“No,” said Research 1. “In regard to the Laws, he is both human and robot. We cannot deny him the combination of traits that we ourselves gave him. All the advantages are therefore his. This makes him very powerful.”

“What about that pattern search you told me you started?” Derec asked. “How were you going to catch him when you located him?”

“Our only hope was to talk him into cooperating. We could not use violence in contradiction to the Laws. However, he will at some point be in danger to his health. At that point, of course, we would be able to force our aid on him.”

“What kind of danger?” asked Ariel. “He’s got a robot body.”

“His robot body is powered by a standard energy system,” said Surgeon 2. “However, his organic brain requires nutrition and oxygen. We installed a container of vital nutrients and synthetic hormones in the lower portion of his head, and part of his neck, and a routing system to his brain. These chemicals are delivered to his brain through its existing circulatory system by synthetic blood. Oxygen is also delivered this way, supplied by the breaths he will take from time to time.”

“Understood so far,” said Derec. “Go on.”

“He can’t eat in the normal human sense. So his nutrient pack must be refilled at certain intervals. He does not know this.”

“He doesn’t? Why didn’t you tell him?” Ariel demanded.

“He ran away before we started briefing him. We wanted to test him first. We did not know he would leave before we could inform him of this.” Surgeon 2 looked at Research 1. “Since our tests were not complete, we do not know precisely how successful the transplant has been.”

“That is true,” said Research 1. “There are considerable unknowns regarding his health. That is why an interpretation of the First Law allows us to help you find him.”

“I’ve been thinking about a question Ariel asked me a while ago,” said Derec. “Do you think Jeff came here, to our residence, for a reason? Or was it just a random visit?”

“The odds against a human, such as he is, making a random visit to the only human dwelling in the city are too high to take seriously,” said Surgeon 2.

“Your use of human food smells to attract fellow humans here may have influenced him,” said Research 1. “He is not yet in need of nutrition. However, previous habits and the stimulation of the pleasure center in his brain by the food aromas may have created a desire to experience the smell and taste of human food.”

“I don’t suppose it would work a second time,” said Ariel. “Getting away seemed awfully important to him. If he can’t eat anyway, he wouldn’t really need to come back here.”

“A logical assumption,” said Research 1.

“All right, hold it,” said Derec. “I’d like to go at this in a straight line, if you don’t mind. As I see it, we have three problems. In order to get a hold of this guy Jeff, we have to locate him and identify him and grab him. Is this pattern search of yours going to capture him? How does it work?”

“It employs the entire robot population of Robot City,” said Research 1. “However, they do not have to leave their duties. We have set up a net of testing around the perimeter of the city, moving inward, that goes from one robot to the next. No robot will work with any other or allow any other to pass, unless the other robot can demonstrate the use of his comlink. Since Jeff does not have this ability, he will eventually be identified.”

“We could have built a radio system into his body,” said Surgeon 1. “It seemed an unnecessary contradiction to his human identity, so we chose not to do so.”

“Good thing,” said Derec. “It sounds like your search could take a long time, though. If he’s smart, and wants to escape notice, he can keep away from your search until the very last minute. And if he’s lucky, he might sneak through the ring as it closes.”

Surgeon 2 shook its head. Unlike most Avery robots, he seemed to like these gestures. “It is not a ring, but a solid circle. Even if he moves out into the previously tested area without being identified, he will still be challenged by every robot who sees him. The testing will not cease until we report that he has been detained.”

Derec nodded in approval. “Not bad. I still say it will take a while, unless he gets careless.”

“Agreed,” said Research 1. “It could take an extended period of time, but it will identify him without fail.

Chances of his capture will be maximized if we have one of you, the humans, on hand t: > detain him, however. Otherwise, the Second Law will allow him to order us away unless a First Law imperative instructs us to override his orders.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Ariel turned her hands palm up and looked around at the three robots.

“We can’t order him around any more than you can. And he’s stronger than you are.”

The robots were silent.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Derec decided. “The first job is to get him identified. Maybe we can think of a way to shortcut the search process.”

“Perhaps so,” said Research 1. “We are at your disposal.”

“So to speak,” added Surgeon 2.

Chapter 13

LIFE ON THE RUN

JEFF WAS ON the run. He had shoved Derec and Ariel aside in a frenzied panic, aching to speak with fellow humans and yet terrified of being discovered — though he didn’t know why that mattered. The robot pursuit, driven by their horror of an apparent robot violating the First Law, the fundamental rule of their existence, was much greater now than it had been before. It was a testimonial to the imperative of the First Law that now, as he ran, every humanoid robot in the area dropped its duties to give chase, informed silently of his transgression by the comlinks of two robots that had happened to witness his physical assault on the humans.

Even the function robots began to impede him as he ran down the street, apparently ordered by the robots already in pursuit. Without positronic brains, the function robots could not make any advanced judgments of their own, but they could follow instructions. Little sweepers and couriers began zigzagging in front of him; giant construction equipment, intelligent enough not to require drivers, blocked his path down other streets. Behind him, all manner of weirdly shaped devices had joined the growing number of humanoid robots chasing him down the street.

“Come on, Jeffrey; come on, Jeffrey,” he thought to himself as he ran, the rhythm of the phrase keeping time with his beating footsteps. He was even starting to breathe again, perhaps because the stress had caused a greater need for oxygen in his brain, even though his physical activity would not have caused that need. What a time to think about his physiology, he sneered at himself.

Ahead of him, more robots of all kinds were shifting to cut off his escape. They almost had him — no! On the right, an open tunnel stop invited him. He angled for it on a collision course with a large, block-shaped function robot with a variety of flexible tentacles ending in tools. The function robot rolled to a stop, filling the entrance to the tunnel. Jeff grimaced — at least on the inside — and reflexively clenched his steel jaw as he collided with it.

Jeff bounced away, but caught at one of the extended tentacles to maintain his footing. The impact had shoved the function robot back just enough for him to slide past one of its comers and run down the ramp. He nearly stumbled as the ramp started to move, and he ran, tripping on his toes, into the nearest booth. This time he knew how to work the controls, and took off quickly into the dim light of the tunnel.

He looked back once, and saw the crowd of humanoid robots pouring down the ramp and entering platform booths. The function robots had been eliminated from the chase, since the booths were designed for intelligent, humanoid passengers. He faced forward again, now trying to blend with the other robots riding in booths.

He shifted to one of the mid-speed lanes and looked nonchalant. In a way, he was new at losing himself in the crowd, and yet, after being highly visible all his life, this was ridiculously easy. Some of the robots in pursuit came alongside, and others passed him, but they could not distinguish between him and the others. He had no way of knowing if they were trying to reach him through their comlinks or not, but if so, they didn’t seem to know who was answering and who was not. All the robots within sight were standing in roughly the same position, confined in booths the same way.

When a couple of robots rode into the siding at the next tunnel stop, some of the pursuing robots followed them. Jeff realized then that the longer he remained riding the platform, the thinner the pursuit would become. So he stayed where he was, occasionally changing lanes as though he were traveling in a deliberate manner to a specific destination.

It worked.

He smiled to himself as he rode. Three times, now, he had escaped robots that were chasing him. Nor had he outmuscled them — if he could use that term for robot arms. He had had to outsmart them, in the end, since they were physically as strong as he was. And if they ever really got hold of him, he would claim his rights as a human to consideration under the Laws of Robotics.

They were no match for him.

Only other humans had the same ultimate power over the robots that he did, based on the Laws... but, of course, they would be much weaker physically. He realized, for the first time, that he was actually the single most powerful individual on the entire planet. If he was careful, he could do anything here that he wanted.

Of course, he had no idea of how the city was governed. Perhaps the robots had some kind of city councilor something. It didn’t matter, since they would have to obey him if he decided to reveal himself and give them orders. He had to make sure they couldn’t catch him, though.

He shook his head slightly, trying to remember why he didn’t want to be caught. Nor could he figure out why he was afraid of the robots, if they had to obey his orders. It didn’t make sense, but that was how he felt.

Maybe those two humans could join him. Of course, they would have to undergo the same transplant surgery that he had. Then all three of them would be virtually invincible, not only against the robots, but against any other humans who might come to this planet. They might not like the idea, but it could be done without their agreement. After all, he hadn’t had any chance to discuss the matter, either.

“Well, well, well,” he said aloud. “A conspiracy. A takeover. So I do have something to accomplish here, after all.”

He had been carefully watching the robots traveling around him, and knew that the ones pursuing him had all left the tunnel system by now. To increase his distance from them, he rode a little longer, then stopped at a siding chosen at random. Now that he was out of their sight, he didn’t think they could pick him out again.

Once back on the surface, he got on the slidewalk to ride until he got his bearings. With safety as close as any tunnel stop, he was free to roam. At the same time, he wanted to communicate with his human colleagues if he could do so without having robots jump allover him.

When he had picked out a few landmarks, principally a huge, shining dome and a strange, many-sided pyramid, he worked his way back toward the human residence. All the while, he looked about carefully for any sign that robots were conducting a search. He didn’t see any evidence of a continuing search in the area, but he had to be careful.

He was in the neighborhood, now, but still kept riding the slidewalk around in a series of jagged circuits, looking for a trap. His human colleagues, as he thought of them, were not in sight. The robot traffic here was light, and seemed to be safe enough.

He started to look in the other direction, when a familiar shape caught his eye. When he glanced back, he saw that same robot pushing the wheeled handcart again. On impulse, he leaped off the slidewalk and walked briskly up behind the robot.

“Are you following me?” he demanded.

The robot stopped and turned around. “Are you addressing me?”

“Yes. Identify yourself.”

“I am Alpha.”

Jeff hesitated. “Alpha? That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound like the other names in this place. Why are you different?”

“I am not a native construct of this planet. Please identify yourself.”

“I’m Jeff. If you’re a stranger here, then we have something in common. I thought you were following me around.”

“Not at all. Our proximity must be a coincidence. However, you may be able to aid me.”

“Are you willing to join up with me? The two of us, we don’t have any particular place in this society. I’m... gathering friends, you might say. Followers.”

“I have no objection to this.”

“Fair enough. What can I do for you?”

Alpha pulled a cloth from the wheeled cart. A small, furry creature lay inside, its eyes closed and its pointed ears limp and flat. Clumps of brown and gold fur had been falling out, revealing leathery skin under it. “This is an intelligent non-human named Wolruf. She is starving. I came to this planet with her.

However, food for her has been scarce. Can you find some?”

“I’m not sure,” said Jeff, looking at the little alien doubtfully. She had a caninoid body. “You ask anybody else? Any of these robots who live here?”

“Yes. However, since I have determined that she is nonhuman, the Laws do not apply and they are not required to help save her. The robots I have questioned here do not know where to find food for her, and have no greater ability to locate any than I. So the responsibility remains mine.”

“I think you’ve met up with the right pers — individual.”

“Can you help? We explored near a lake that I believe to be a reservoir and found a few plants that helped keep her alive, but that is all. I surmise that she requires a concentration of proteins they did not provide.”

“It so happens that I smelled some food — human food, that is — in this very neighborhood. In a town like this, it must have been prepared in some kind of autogalley, like they have on shipboard. That would mean it could be altered to prepare other kinds of chemical food.”

“I smelled it also,” said Alpha. “This is what brought me to this area. However, the winds come and go.

I lost the scent for a short time, and when I recovered it, an altercation of some kind was taking place among robots. Since I have chosen to make Wolruf’s safety a priority, I was forced to leave the immediate vicinity.”

“I see.” Jeff chose not offer any additional information about that particular altercation.

“And since that time, I have not been able to locate any odors of the same type.”

“Ah. Well.” Jeff paused, not sure how to proceed. He wanted to get this little doggie-thing some food, to win over his new friend. On the other hand, he did not want to be identified again. To stall for time, and to satisfy his curiosity, he nodded at the cart. “Where’d you get that contraption?”

“I constructed it from scrap materials on the edge of the city, where new urbanization is taking place.”

“Very clever. Well. Hmm.” This little cart impressed him. It was so simple. A robot who could do this kind of thin $on his own resources, and who had no ties to Robot City, was definitely an asset.

Jeff decided that he could not risk returning to the human residence. Nor did he want to turn over his new friend to other humans, who could give orders contradictory to his own, and perhaps even turn Alpha against him. He couldn’t trust anybody. Yet he had to find a solution.

Another humanoid robot was walking toward them. Jeff chose, on the spot, to take a different kind of risk, one that would allow him to make a run for cover if necessary.

“Halt and identify yourself,” he said to the approaching robot.

“For what purpose?” The robot halted, however.

“I have instructions for you.”

“I am Architectural Foreman 112. Identify yourself.”

“My name is Jeff.” He sighed, and then fixed his gaze carefully on Architectural Foreman 112. “I am human.”

Beside him, Alpha looked up with new attention.

“Perhaps you are malfunctioning. Your comlink might be more efficient. I thought you said that you are human,” said Foreman 112.

“I am. My human brain was surgically transplanted into a robot body. However, the Laws of Robotics apply to me as a human. You must obey my instructions. Understand?”

Foreman 112 studied him. “I understand. I have just contacted the central computer, and have been informed that this transplant took place into a body of your type and that you have been reported in this neighborhood very recently.”

“Good. Now —”

“You are also the object of a search. The Human Experimental Medical Team urgently requests your presence and cooperation.”

“Now, you just forget about that. They don’t have any right to capture me. I haven’t done anything wrong.” He eyed the robot suspiciously. “Did you tell them where I am?”

“I have reported your location here at the request of the central computer.”

“Shut up and listen to my orders! Now, look inside this thing. This cart holds a little creature that is dying of starvation. Its friend here is named Alpha. I’m instructing you to build, or arrange the building, of an autogalley that can feed this, this —”

“Her name is Wolruf,” Alpha repeated. “She is an intelligent non-human.”

“Yeah, right.”

Foreman 112 looked at Wolruf. “Would the location of an existing chemical processor be acceptable?

One is in storage. This would provide nutrition much faster.”

‘That one’s okay,” Jeff said carefully. “But only that one. Understand? Nobody else’s. Got it?”

“It is the only one I have knowledge of,” said Architectural Foreman 112. “It should suffice in this emergency.”

“Good. Okay. You take Alpha and Wolruf to wherever it is. Alpha, can you explain what kind of food she needs?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Uh — I have to get out of here at the moment, since this traitor has reported my location.” He glared at Architectural Foreman 112. “I want to talk to you again, Alpha, but....” He couldn’t tell Alpha where to meet him in front of this other robot, who would report him again. “Never mind where. I’ll worry about that later. I’ll give you this order: if I try to meet with you in secret someplace, you cooperate. Got it?”

“Yes,” said Alpha.

“All right. On your way, you two.”

Jeff watched them just long enough to be satisfied that they were leaving together. He felt a sense of accomplishment on several grounds: Alpha now owed him a favor, and he had convinced Architectural Foreman 112 that he was a human for whom the Laws applied. If he proceeded carefully, he really might take over Robot City.

“Well, well, Jeffrey. So far, so good. Maybe your life has a purpose after all, know what I mean?”

The last building block he needed in order to create a powerful following was the support of the other humans. He didn’t dare visit them in person until he found out how they felt about him, but he could safely contact them from a distance. First, however, he had to get away from here.

“All right, Jeffrey. Back into the labyrinth again. They’ll never find you in your second home.”

As before, he used the tunnel system to shake the chase. This time he departed before any pursuit came into view. The tunnel system, unless it was shut down completely, remained the perfect escape. The individual booths kept him isolated and the tunnels had so many stops and branches that his chance of losing himself down there was very good. After another long ride, he came up again at a random spot and went to the edge of the nearest slidewalk.

As he waited for a humanoid robot to ride the slidewalk his way, he seriously considered the possibility that the robots running the city might actually shut down his tunnel system. It wouldn’t break the Laws.

This crazy city might have other places he could sleep in peace, and it almost certainly would offer other ways of escaping pursuit. He just hadn’t had time to find out what they were yet.

“Hey, where is everybody? What’s going on?”

He glanced around, puzzled. Everywhere else in the city, humanoid robots had been more or less everywhere. He could see a few in the distance now, but none were coming past him.

“Ho, ho, Jeffrey ol’ boy. Time to get smart, maybe, eh? Something isn’t quite normal. No sense just standing out here to frost. Let’s just take a little trip, visit the tunnel again, see the sights.”

Now leery of a trap, he turned and fled back down the tunnel stop. Moments later, he was shooting through the underground system again in one of the booths, looking at the robots in other booths all around him. What if they were part of the trap? Maybe he was being escorted, herded, to wherever they wanted him to go.

“Calmly, calmly,” he said aloud in the booth. “Maybe they don’t know anything for sure. Maybe they’re trying to smoke you out. Look like everybody else, remember?” He started giggling to himself. “That’s it.

Stay calm and look like all the others.”

He did so, secretly looking over the other robots traveling in the tunnels. None of them seemed to pay any attention to him.

“Shaken the pursuit again, have you?” he said out loud. “Very good, very good. This will work. This project will work. Now, let’s get on with it.”

Still, some time passed before he decided that he could safely return to the surface again. Then he picked another stop at random and reemerged into the sunlight. Now he was once more in an area of the city with a fair amount of humanoid traffic on the slidewalks, as he had been used to seeing. In the distance, the tall pyramid glinted in the sunlight, giving him a reference point.

He flagged down the first humanoid robot who came riding by, and identified himself as human. Like the last robot he had approached this way, Energy Pack Maintenance Foreman 3928 verified his claim with the central computer.

“I am satisfied that you are Jeffrey Leong, a human,” said E Pack Foreman 3928.

“Good. Then under the Second Law, you know —, —”

“As a positronic robot, I am familiar with the Laws of Robotics.”

“All right!” Jeff shouted. “Then get this! Don’t ever interrupt me again! You understand, you slag heap?”

“I understand,” the robot said blandly.

“You’d better. Come to think of it, that moniker of yours is too long. From now on, you answer to Can Head. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“My name is Energy Pack Maintenance Foreman 3928. I will also answer to Can Head.”

“Well... good enough, I guess.” Jeff laughed. “Now listen to this. I want to contact the two humans living here in Robot City. I’ve met them, and I think they’re the only ones here. You use your comlink or whatever it is to get a hold of them. That’s an order,” he added, leaning close and staring into Can Head’s eyeslit.

“I have just checked with the central computer. I can go through it to a computer console in their dwelling. However, I lack the capacity to transmit your voice directly.”

“Yeah? You aren’t lying to me, are you, Can Head?”

“I lack that capacity, as well.”

“Hmm — maybe. You should. Unless things aren’t as they seem around here. Nothing in this town is right, if you ask me. Only, how can I trust you to pass on what I say? What if you play around a little with the content? Or don’t report what they say back to me just like they say it? What about that?”

“I lack the capacity for deceit.”

“What do you need to transmit my voice directly? A microphone and some other equipment, I guess, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go find some. You get it and arrange for me to contact them directly. Get going.”

Chapter 14

THE TRANSPLANT

ARIEL SAT AT the console, trying to think up other subjects that might tell her something about Jeff or his whereabouts. Derec was out with the medical team, making plans to catch him. The search for Jeff had given Derec and Ariel a new focus for their attempt to get off the planet, and the fact that they had actually seen him made their chances seem more tangible. Her spirits were up again, even if Jeff’s spacecraft had been destroyed on impact.

She had just left the console to take a break when a voice came through the speaker.

“Hello! Hey, you! Answer me.”

She slid back into the seat, puzzled by the odd greeting. That wasn’t the kind of courtesy one received from robots. “Identify,” she answered cautiously.

“I don’t have to identify unless I feel like it. This is the robot that knocked you two down. The Laws don’t apply to me.” He paused. “You know what I’m talking about?”

“Jeff,” said Ariel excitedly. “Uh, hi. Where are you?”

Weird robot laughter buzzed through the speaker. “You can’t fool me that easy. Say, how did you know my name? What’s your name: You’re pretty, as I recall.”

“I’m Ariel.” She wanted to keep him talking and see if she could persuade him into coming in. If not, maybe he would slip up and say something that would give away his location. “Can I help you? What are you calling about?”

“If you know my name, you must have talked to those robot doctors, huh? So you know how I got this way.”

“Yes, and they told us you need to come in for your health. They didn’t finish the tests, and you don’t know how to take care of yourself yet. You left before they could explain.” She eyed the keyboard, wondering if she could have the central computer contact the medical team while she kept Jeff in conversation.

“Oh, sure; I have to come in for my own good, right? Frost, I’m not that stupid.”

“Jeff, what are you afraid of? They’re robots. They can’t do anything to harm you.” She started tapping the keys carefully, not wanting to make any noise he might hear.

“Don’t let them fool you, kid. If they’re so helpful, why don’t they transplant you? You’d like it this way.

So would your friend. What’s his name, anyhow?”

“His name is Derec. What do you mean, why don’t they transplant me? They were trying to help you because you were injured in the crash when you landed. Why would I want to have my brain transplanted?” She continued on the keyboard.

“They helped me, all right. Don’t you get it, Ariel? I like this. I’m better this way.”

“Better? You mean you like having a robot body?” She stopped typing, shocked. “I thought you might be mad at them for doing this. You sound angry about something.”

“Angry? Frost, what for? I’m the most powerful individual on this entire planet.”

“What do you mean?” She completed entering the instruction for Derec and the medical team to return as fast as they could, and why. If they could intercept Jeff’s broadcast and eavesdrop, they should attempt that in the meantime. Triangulating on his beam and trapping him would be best of all.

“What do I mean? Are you crazy? It’s obvious! I’m stronger than you or any other human, and I’m free of the Laws. Completely free of them! I have every physical advantage of a robot and every privilege of being human. I can do anything I want. Anything! Don’t you understand?” He was screaming now.

She hesitated, surprised by the sound of a robot voice yelling at her in frustration. “I understand,” she said calmly. “It’s okay, Jeff. I understand.”

“Do you?” He demanded suspiciously.

“Sure. It makes sense. You’re unique. No one has ever lived the way you’re living now. You’re the very first. Uh, tell me what it’s like. It must be interesting.” Since she had no idea where Derec and the medical team were, she couldn’t estimate their time of arrival. All she could do was keep talking.

“What it’s like?” He sounded surprised. “Well... it’s different. Very different. Everybody thinks I’m a robot, for one thing. You look like everybody else. No one knows who you are. Your body can do different things, too. For instance, you can see better and hear better and smell better. And you can sleep standing up.”

She laughed. “What?”

“Forget it,” he said brusquely. “Never mind that part. Forget I mentioned it.”

“You like to sleep standing up?”

“I said forget it!” He shouted. “Besides, any robot can do that. Stop, I mean, in a fixed position. They don’t sleep, of course. That’s all I meant. They can all do that, can’t they? Huh?”

“Yes, they can. Take it easy. It’s okay.” She hesitated, realizing that she certainly couldn’t predict what would set him off on a tirade. “How old are you, Jeff?”

“Uh — eighteen. Sort of. In this life, I’m just a couple days old.” He laughed, much too hard. Then he stopped abruptly. “Actually, I don’t know how long I had this body before I woke up. I have no birthday any more, not in this body.”

“Eighteen? Really? I guess I thought you’d be older. Were you in school? I mean, before you got here.”

She tried to sound as sympathetic as she could.

“I was on my way to college,” he said quietly.

She sensed that this was a sore subject, and dropped it. “Where are you from, Jeff?”

“The planet Aurora.”

“Really?” She said brightly. “I’m from Aurora, too, and I’m just a little younger than you are. In fact —”

She hesitated, then decided to say it. “I’m Ariel Welsh.”

“Ariel Welsh... really? The famous one?”

“Well...” The reminder stung. “I guess so. Juliana Welsh is my mother.”

“So this is where you wound up! Wow. I’m really talking to you? You were in all the news and everything.” Suddenly he sounded his age, and guileless.

Ariel said nothing.

“That does it,” he said firmly. “You order those robots to transplant you. You’re sick, right? Well, you won’t be sick in a robot body. Unless the infection has reached your brain, too, of course. So you tell them, all right? Then after that, you can join me.”

Ariel was reeling. If it could work, it might stop the spread of the disease. Her body could be frozen while a cure was found, and she could go on living as a robot. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Hey! You there? Hey, Ariel!” He yelled.

Of course, she might have to stay on Robot City, in that case. Then again, as a robot, she would fit in a little better. No, much better. Nor would she feel that she was wasting her life here. The biological life expectancy of her body wouldn’t start up again until it was thawed out, whenever that could be arranged.

Her brain would age normally if it was functioning in a robot body, but maybe the disease would not affect her brain, or at least not as fast. She could encourage the medical team to work on a cure. The First Law would require that, wouldn’t it?

“You still there?” Jeff demanded.

“Yes! Yes, I’m here. Don’t go — I’m interested.”

“You are?” He sounded surprised again, then he recovered. “Of course you are! I knew you would be.

It’s better this way. We can take over the city together. Now, how about Derec?”

“Huh? What about him?”

“The transplant, of course! Aren’t you listening to me? What’s wrong with you?”

“He doesn’t have any reason to be transplanted.”

“Of course he does! That’s what I’ve been telling you! He can see better, hear better, and all that. He’ll like it. And the three of us can take over the planet. The robots will have to obey us. Think of it — an entire planet at our disposal.”

“I’m hot sure he’s going to see it that way.” She added to herself that Derec’s amnesia was in his mind.

Transplanting his brain wouldn’t take care of that problem.

“Of course he will. It’s easy to understand. He’ll get it.”

“Why would we want to take over the planet?”

“So it would be ours, of course. What kind of question is that? We could run it.”

“Actually, the robots run it pretty well, don’t you think? Everything runs smoothly here.”

“But it would be ours!”

“But what would we do with it? What would be different? The robots would still do all the work, just like they do now.”

“It would be ours! Don’t you understand? The entire planet would belong to us.”

“Okay, Jeff, okay. But if nothing changes, those are just words. Ownership wouldn’t mean much, would it? The robots obey us already, so that won’t get any better.”

“You’ll see! If you get this transplant, you’ll understand. Then you’ll find out, just like I did.”

Ariel started to answer, then realized that the static had stopped: he was gone. She let out a deep breath, and sagged back in the chair with the release of tension. At this point, she didn’t mind having to wait a little while for the others to return. He had given her several things to think about.

Derec was breathless when he ran into the room, followed by his concerned but calm robot companions. “Is he still on the line? I want to talk to him.”

“Too late,” said Ariel. “I kept him on as long as I could, but I ran out of stuff to say.”

“We overheard part of it, but not too much.”

“He must have been using a very primitive radio set,” said Surgeon 2. “The quality of our reception varied greatly as we traveled through the city on our return trip.”

“Do you know where he is?” Derec asked.

“No. He was very suspicious, and, well, kind of strange.” She looked at the robots. “Was he like that before?”

“Like what?” Research 1 asked.

“He sounded almost paranoid. And he kept going through mood swings. One minute he’s laughing and the next minute he’s totally enraged. Then he forgets it all and makes ordinary conversation.” She shook her head. “It just wasn’t normal.”

“No,” said Research 1. “He was not like that in the brief time he was awake with us.”

“He was in a post-operative state at that time,” said Surgeon 1. “He was surprised, and perhaps shocked. Nor was he conscious when we first found him. His behavior during the brief time he was awake with us may not have been representative of his personality.”

“You mean he might always have been erratic and emotionally unstable?” Derec asked.

“Possibly,” said Research 1. “Our data is too limited for a sound conclusion.”

“I have another theory,” said Ariel. “Do you think something is going wrong with him in some way?”

“Clarify, please,” said Research 1.

“Well, he’s been through a lot,” she pointed out. “And at times he sounded normal and friendly. He was on his way to college somewhere. If he got accepted off-planet, outside Aurora, he was probably a good student.”

“Agreed,” said Derec. “You think the transplant has changed his personality, then.”

They both turned to Research 1.

“How likely is it?” Ariel asked.

“This is possible. The odds cannot be calculated under the circumstances.”

“Well — what do you think might have gone wrong?” She decided not to express the reason for her new interest in the transplant right now.

“Without precise medical data, I can offer two general possibilities. One is that the emotional shock of finding himself in a robot body has distressed him to the point of behavioral change. The second is that his brain is suffering from a chemical imbalance that has caused this problem. It might be nutritionally or hormonally based, or might indicate a flaw in our procedure or planning.”

“Can you help him?” asked Ariel. “If we catch him, I mean. He doesn’t seem too far gone yet.”

“That will depend on the precise nature of the problem, of course,” said Research 1.

“We may have a full solution to the larger problem of Jeff, however,” said Surgeon 1. “With your cooperation, Derec.”

“What? Mine?”

“We are capable of intricate surgical techniques,” said Surgeon 1. “And we have a great deal of information of certain types regarding human physiology and medical care. However, we lack certain basic information regarding gross anatomy and some details of all kinds.”

“I don’t know anything like that,” said Derec. “I don’t think it’s in the central computer, either.”

“You don’t need to,” said Medical Research 1. “We need your body as a model.”

Ariel stifled a laugh.

“How so?” Derec asked carefully. “What do you mean, as a model?”

“We need information regarding the complete physiology of a young human male, particularly regarding the arrangement of inner organs, in order to restore Jeff’s body to a healthy condition. Yours can act as a kind of map.”

“Pardon me for asking this,” said Derec, “but exactly what do you need from me? In particular, uh....”

“You will not be subjected to any risk,” said Research 1. “After all, the First Law would not permit risk in your case, as it did in Jeff’s. We have the ability to construct scanning systems that will tell us what we must know without surgical procedures or drugs.”

Derec visibly relaxed. “Okay, sure. But we still have to get our hands on Jeff.”

“Granted,” said Research 1. “Nevertheless, we will arrange to have the systems constructed, since they do not currently exist. It will not take very long. The odds are very high in favor of Jeff’s eventual apprehension, limited only by his unknown medical condition and the chance of injurious accident to his brain. Damage to the rest of him can, of course, be fully repaired.”

“Brain damage would require a great deal of trauma,” observed Surgeon 2. “His cranial protection was especially designed for him, as demanded by the First Law, and is highly effective.”

“Good,” said Derec. “We definitely need information from him, and the saner he is, the better. A crazy guy’s answers aren’t going to help us much.”

“Enough about my conversation with him,” said Ariel. “What about you? Did you get anything accomplished while you were out there? Or didn’t you have enough time?”

“We rearranged the pattern of the ongoing search,” said Research 1. “The closing doughnut has been speeded up, based on the First Law concern regarding Jeff’s health. We have charged some additional robots inside the remaining hole here in the center of the city with the same behavior. This may locate him a little faster.”

“I believe the colloquial phrase is, ‘smoke him out’,” said Surgeon 1. “Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Ariel laughed.

“I told them that putting more pressure on Jeff might push him into a mental mistake,” said Derec.

“I think so,” said Ariel. “He’s gotten very short-tempered.”

“Maybe it’s just as well that robots are out looking, if he’s going to get violent.” Derec turned to the robots. “Now we’re just back to waiting, I guess, for the time being. We’ll contact you immediately if we have a new development.”

“Very well,” said Research 1. “We shall return to our facility and prepare the scanning systems.”

When they had left, Ariel got up so that Derec could have the console chair if he wanted it. Instead, he started into his room.

“Derec?” She said quietly, standing with her arms folded.

“Yeah?” He turned at his doorway.

“Did they talk about the transplant while you were out walking around with them?”

“No, not really. Why?”

“I was thinking about what Research 1 said. That maybe Jeff has gone weird because of the shock of waking up and finding out what happened to him. That might throw anybody, don’t you think?”

“Sure. What about it?”

“If that’s true, then the transplant was actually successful, wouldn’t you say? The surgery itself, I mean, and all the adjustments they had to make in the robot body.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But they aren’t sure that’s the case, remember? It’s just one possibility.” He cocked his head. “Since when did you get interested in all this?”

She shrugged self-consciously. “I was just thinking about it. On account of talking to Jeff. He says it’s not too bad.”

“Not too bad? Being a robot on the outside and a human on the inside?” He had started to smirk, teasing her, but then realization crossed his face. “Hey, wait a minute. You don’t...?”

“Not for sure.” She turned away, embarrassed. “I just want to know more about it, that’s all.”

“You mean you’d actually consider this? Turning yourself into a robot?”

She nodded her head without turning around.

“And then what — stay here? In this ridiculous place?” His voice was filled with wonder as much as anger.

“It’s better than dying!” She whirled on him. “Or being frozen whole and maybe never waking up! What if there isn’t any cure, anywhere? Maybe these robots could find one, if I stayed long enough.” She felt tears stinging her eyes.

“Well,...” He paused uncertainly. “What about the other possibility? Maybe the robots messed up somehow. Maybe that’s why Jeff’s going crazy. You can’t risk that. That would be worse than looking for a cure off the planet somewhere.”

“If we get off the planet! Derec, what if we’re still stuck here? I won’t have anything to lose then, will I?”

“Well, I... I don’t know. Maybe not.”

“And what if Jeff was always a little crazy? Nobody here knows him. Maybe he hasn’t been changed at all. What about that?”

He shook his head. “Maybe that’s true. You were the one who came up with the theory about his going crazy now. All I know is that if they can’t rig up the transplant right, it could kill you faster than your disease.”

She looked away from him.

He hesitated, watching her. When she didn’t say anything else, he went on into his room.

She walked into her own room and collapsed on her bed to stare at the ceiling. Then she remembered: it would not do her any good. One of the effects of her disease, before causing death, was insanity. Even a transplant like Jeff’s would not help her escape her own brain.

Chapter 15

THE CIRCLE TIGHTENS

JEFF STOOD ON the stationary shoulder of a slidewalk, at the apex of a high, arching overpass. Robots and vehicles passed on a major boulevard several stories below him. On one comer, five humanoid robots were talking. He had watched three of them approach the other two, and had seen that the pair standing together had blocked their path to engage them in conversation.

He couldn’t tell what they were discussing at this distance, but normally robots would communicate privately among themselves through their comlinks. The most likely reason they were using spoken communication was that they were searching for him. His lack of a comlink was one identifying mark he could not disguise.

“You can’t go that way, either, Jeffrey,” he said into the slight breeze. It would carry his voice the other way, so that even their most sensitive robot hearing would not detect it. “They think they’re closing in.

Well, maybe they are and maybe they aren’t. We’ll see.”

He stepped onto the slowest lane of the slidewalk and rode it standing still, carefully watching in all directions. With his vision magnified for distances, he was able to spot these little clusters of conversing robots before they noticed him. They were uncharacteristic of normal robot behavior.

As near as he could tell, these clusters were coming toward the center of the city from all directions.

They had been slowed down, though, because the population was higher as they approached the heart of the urban area. That might give him time to figure out an escape.

“Time for another reconnoiter, Jeffrey ol’ pal. Just keep it casual and don’t let anybody sneak up on you.

Got it? Of course I’ve got it, you moron; I’m you.” He laughed at his little joke and prepared to change direction at an upcoming junction ramp with another slidewalk.

He knew, by this time, the routes that gave him the most visibility, either with raised sections of slidewalk or open areas that offered a broad vista of the city. The robots involved in the pattern search were direct, and made no attempt to disguise their efforts, so he was able to see how much progress they had made.

The circle was surprisingly tight, and still closing in.

“Now it’s time to check out their procedure a little more closely. It’ll take some care, Jeff. Think you can handle that? Of course I can. Shut up and get to work.”

He was hoping to eavesdrop. The difficulty was in listening without attracting the attention of the search team. He continued to ride the slidewalks until he found a cluster of robots speaking below another slidewalk overpass. When he was close enough, he stepped off onto the shoulder again and turned up his aural sensitivity until he could hear them clearly.

“We have contacted all three of you through your comlinks,” one robot was saying. “We believe all three of you responded, but we wish to speak aloud with you as well.”

“Identify,” said another.

“I am Drainage Foreman 31. I am temporarily suspended from my regular duties. At the present time, I am leading this team of three robots in search of a human with the physical body of a robot. This is the purpose of our questions.”

An extended moment of silence followed. Jeff understood what was happening. The search team was matching up comlink communication with eye contact and spoken words so that they would have no chance of letting him through by mistake, or by his getting lost in the crowd.

“I am going to repeat my answer to you aloud,” Drainage Foreman 31 said to another robot. “This human had his brain successfully transplanted into the body of a robot. For this reason, he has the strength and appearance of a robot, but the authority of the Laws of Robotics. I am going to ask you a question aloud now. Please respond through your comlink.”

Another moment of silence followed, then more talk of a similar kind.

Jeff stepped back onto the slidewalk to ride away. He was convinced that he could not fake having a comlink. That one robot was being very thorough in his testing, and he was backed up by two more robots. Jeff couldn’t win a wrestling match with three robots, each with a strength equal to his own.

He was still wary as he approached a tunnel stop. If the robots did not shut down the system entirely, they would at some point stake it out, perhaps with checkpoints down in the tunnels themselves. They could not be careless enough to have forgotten it. However, they might not yet have set up their search there.

“This block is clear so far,” he muttered to himself, looking toward a tunnel stop. “And no one’s standing at the opening. All right, then. Casually, like before — and watch out for a checkpoint down in the tunnel itself. Right? Of course you’re right. So am I. I know you are. Shut up and let’s go. Okay, okay....”

He went on muttering to himself, seriously now, as he sauntered toward the stop. Several humanoid robots passed him on the way, as well as the normal crowd of function robots of all sizes and types, but he was not worried about any of them. The search teams had so far all been teams of threes, and they had stopped every humanoid robot they met. They did not just walk around normally, like this.

At the open tunnel stop, he paused to glance around. Everything seemed fine so far. He got on the ramp and rode down into the tunnel. “Maybe your luck will hold, Jeffrey ol’ friend. Of course it will; why wouldn’t it? Well, just don’t get overconfident.”

They were after him. He knew they were after him. They had no right to stop him; he hadn’t done anything wrong and he hadn’t hurt anyone, not even a robot. They were only robots, anyway. They had no reason to be after him.

What if something had gone wrong with them? What if they didn’t have to obey the Laws any more, either? They ran this city by themselves, didn’t they? They could change the rules. Surely they manufactured their fellow robots right here. What if they were making positronic brains that didn’t obey the Laws? They must be. Otherwise, how could they be chasing him at all? Trying to capture him had to break some Law or other.

That’s why they wanted him. He had the same freedom from the Laws, but he wasn’t one of them. They had just been pretending to obey the Laws before.

At the base of the ramp, he peered around suspiciously. Nothing appeared out of order around the siding loop. He stepped into one of the booths and punched the keys on the console for his destination.

Nothing happened.

Then a green instruction light appeared, reading, “Temporary adjustment in control system requires use of robotic comlink. Give standard destination code to activate booth.”

He sprang out of the booth, then looked around in embarrassment. If a searching robot had seen him fail to activate the booth, he would be identified on the spot. Fortunately, no one had noticed.

So, they had taken his beloved tunnel system away from him. All right. That didn’t mean he was finished.

After all, they were just robots. He was human —” Right?” He spoke aloud. “Of course you’re right.

Now shut up before you give yourself away.”

He rode up the ramp slowly, glancing in all directions when he reached the surface. “We are still in disguise, still in disguise. Let’s approach the enemy’s lair and see what we can see. Very good, very good.”

Newly resolved to keep quiet for as long as he could remember to do so, he started again for the residence of Derec and Ariel. He knew that they lived near the center of the city, certainly in the central area, and he was guessing that the pattern search was ultimately closing in on that spot. That meant he could escape detection the longest there, and, if he was lucky, he just might overhear something that would let him make a successful getaway.

“Just remember,” he said to himself. “Don’t let them actually lay eyes on you. They don’t seem to tell us robots apart too well, but they just might recognize you, ol’ buddy. Right? Right. Shut up; you’re talking out loud again.”

He recognized the building and the entranceway to their residence easily enough, but he had no plans for what to do next. Since robots did not normally loiter, he could not very well just hang around watching the place.

One of the reasons he had been safe from detection in the tunnel system was that he had been isolated in the booths. Another was that the very act of moving made him appear occupied, like all the legitimate residents of Robot City. He got onto a slidewalk and started walking purposefully, hoping that this would work as an adequate substitute for the time being.

As usual, he set up a route that carried him in an irregular, jagged rotation, now using the human residence as a central reference point. He used the first two circuits to look for search teams, but he didn’t see any here. Then he relaxed somewhat and altered his route so that he passed within sight of the human residence more often.

Derec and Ariel did not appear while he was watching. He wondered if he might do better talking to Derec than to Ariel, though she had said she was at least interested in the transplant. She had not been so optimistic about Derec, but maybe she was wrong.

He would not want to talk to Derec yet, since she might be right. If he could talk to her again first, maybe she would have the transplant and understand why it was so desirable. Then they could both convince Derec to join them.

He would just have to wait and watch.

By the time he had lost count of the number of circuits he had made, boredom was setting in. Maybe those two hardly ever came out of their lair. Or maybe they weren’t in there at all, but out roaming around the city — looking for him, probably. He laughed — giggling, really — at the idea. If they would just come home, their search would be over.

“No, it wouldn’t,” he said aloud, sobering suddenly. “I would still have to hide from them. I’d have to be careful, wouldn’t I? Of course you would. Now be quiet.”

He got off the slidewalk in view of their entranceway, just because he was tired of riding around and around. “A real robot wouldn’t get tired of it,” he said. “A real robot would just do it over and over until the job was done. But not you. That’s why you’re still human, isn’t it? Huh? Of course it is.”

He stood on the shoulder of the slidewalk, wondering what he should do next. “You forgot to tell me to shut up,” he added. “All right, shut up. Thank you.”

A humanoid robot came riding up on the slidewalk. As he neared Jeff, he stepped off and walked up to him. “Identify,” he said. “Use your comlink, please.”

“Uh —” Jeff stared at him in shock. This guy was alone, without any search team. Apparently they had altered their policy. Jeff was caught totally off guard. “I, uh — what do you want?”

“I am not receiving you,” said the robot. “Please accompany me. I am under instructions to escort all robots without functioning comlinks to a location nearby.”

“Do you know why?” Jeff didn’t move. He was thinking as fast as he could. If he could stall, he would.

The robot looked at him without speaking. After a moment, Jeff realized the reason.

“Please answer me out loud,” said Jeff. “I’m not receiving you, any more than I’m transmitting.”

“Yes,” said the robot out loud. “I know why.”

“Tell me.”

“We are searching for Jeff Leong. He is a human brain in a robot body. It possesses no comlink. A secondary benefit may be the identification of robots whose comlinks have malfunctioned without their having noticed, so they can be repaired.”

“Identify.”

“I am Air Quality Foreman 6.”

“Who gave you this instruction?”

“Human Research 1.”

“Yeah, I know him. Another robot, in other words.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Don’t get smart with me, slag heap. Now, then. I know something about robots from when I was on Aurora. If a human gives you an order that contradicts an instruction from a robot, the Second Law makes you obey the human, right?”

“Assuming no other influences pertain, yes.”

“Other influences?” Jeff said suspiciously. “Like what? You aren’t trying to break the Laws, are you?”

“No, decidedly not. An example of another influence might be prior programming, for instance. Another would be the force of the First Law, which of course takes precedence over the Second and Third. Are you unaware of this? If you are testing me, under what authority are you acting? Identify.”

He was trapped, and would have to gamble.

“I’m Jeff Leong, the human-robot you are searching for. Don’t contact anyone!” he shouted suddenly.

“Did you obey me? I know how fast those positronic brains of yours can work.”

“I obeyed you. I started to use my comlink to report locating you, but I aborted it.”

“Aha!” Jeff laughed. “So you have to obey me, eh? Well, well.”

“Your orders override the instructions I received from Human Research 1, because programming itself was not involved. He gave me a simple instruction. If you issue orders contrary to my programming, I will not obey.”

“Hmm. You believed me pretty quick. Are you sure you believe me?” He demanded.

“Yes. I am not capable of lying about this.”

“Why do you believe me?”

“If you had a positronic brain, you would not be able to lie to me and say otherwise. Therefore you must be, or possess, the human brain in the robot body.”

“Okay, okay, fair enough. Say, why didn’t I think of ordering around search robots before? Jeffrey, you’re not yourself. That’s why.” He giggled to himself. “You certainly aren’t, are you?”

“Do you have further instructions for me?” asked Air Quality 6, in the same bland voice as before.

“Oh, yeah — you bet. I sure do. The first order is, you don’t let on to anyone who I am. Understand?

I’m just another robot here in town. Got it?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now we’re going to be a team. I’ll give you the orders and you’ll obey them. Since you have a comlink that works, you’re going to help me get away from all these search teams. If you detect the presence of one of those teams, you alert me and help me avoid them. We’re going to get out of here.

Got it?”

“I understand that we are going somewhere. I do not know what ‘here’ we are getting out of.”

“I’ll explain one step at a time,” said Jeff, eyeing the robot thoughtfully. “Well, well. I think we’re going to get along. You know, taking over this town is going to be easier than I thought. Let’s go down to the nearest tunnel stop. You know where it is?”

“Yes. Follow me.”

Derec was munching bacon and wiping out the inside of the chemical processor’s receptacle when Ariel sat up straight in her chair by the computer console.

“Derec, we’ve got something. He’s been found. Sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of? What is it?” He hurried to her and leaned down to read over her shoulder.

“A partial alert came into the central computer just now. All it says is, ‘Jeff Leong located.’”

“That’s all? That doesn’t sound like an efficient robot message. Move over. I bet the message was aborted somehow — maybe Jeff punched him or something.” He leaned in front of her and quickly keyed for the location of the report and read the coordinates. “Hey — that’s right outside! Come on!”

He turned and ran out, aware of Ariel following right behind him.

Derec skidded to a stop on the street, looking all around. Various humanoid robots were in sight, but none were doing anything unusual. He had no way of picking out one over another.

“Derec, how about those two?” She pointed at a pair of humanoid robots just going around a corner. “I think that one looks sort of like Jeff, don’t you?”

“Could be, I guess.... There’s a tunnel stop over there. I think I’ve got it — he’s ordered another robot to run the tunnel booths for him. If he does, he can go anywhere. The whole search will be a waste of time.

Come on!” He ran back inside and got on the console.

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t we try to catch them?”

“We are. Here it is — the destination he’s chosen. I see he’s only going a couple of stops from here. He must be pretty sharp. Instead of just heading out as far as he can go, and risking interception, he’s going to leave a broken, unpredictable trail. Maybe I can alert some robots in that area, somehow —”

“That’s a waste of time!” Ariel shouted. “Look where he’s going — it’s right next to the Key Center. He still has a distance to go. We can beat him there ourselves!”

“What? How?” Derec turned to look at her, but she was already running out the door. He hesitated, then got up and ran after her.

Jeff and Air Quality 6 had had to squeeze into the same tunnel booth, of course, and it was very crowded. Jeff decided to make this stint a short one, to test Air Quality 6’s reliability. He still wondered if some kind of programming might have allowed the robots to act in unusual ways for the sake of trapping him. Air Quality 6 activated the booth, and they took off through the tunnel.

The awkward fit in the booth made the trip seem longer than it was. Finally, they slowed into the siding loop and got out. Jeff led the way up the ramp.

The great bronze dome he had often seen rose up in front of them, gleaming in the sunlight. He didn’t know what it was, but it was a visual reference point he had often used. Air Quality 6 had brought him here faithfully, so he supposed he could trust the robot after all.

“Good job, pal,” Jeff said to the robot. “Well, I guess we can take a longer trip now, maybe out to the edge of town. You probably know this place better than I do. You got any suggestions?”

“I detect the approach of two humans from one direction and a robot from another.”

“What? Where?”

“There.” Air Quality 6 pointed to a transparent, horizontal chute lined up with a loading dock not far away. Derec and Ariel were climbing out of the vacuum tube. “And there. The robot is not in sight yet, but is about to come around a corner. He had been using his comlink to contact me.”

“You didn’t respond, did you?” Jeff growled in a low voice.

“No.”

“Good. You freeze — don’t speak, move, or communicate in any way till I give you the counter order.”

Jeff froze himself into position at the same moment, just as Derec and Ariel came running up.

“Is that you, Jeff?” Ariel asked breathlessly.

Jeff held himself still, and was relieved to see that his last order to Air Quality 6 was being obeyed, as well.

“One of you has a positronic brain,” said Derec. “I order that one to answer us. Which one is Jeff?”

Jeff spent a very long moment waiting, but was glad to realize that his order to Air Quality 6 for silence had taken precedence. He might just figure a way out of this problem yet.

“You are Derec and Ariel?” asked another robot, joining them. “I am Assistant Planner 3. I have been participating in the random search for Jeff Leong and received your emergency message from the central computer.”

“Thanks for coming,” said Derec. “We seem to have a problem here. They aren’t responding.”

“So I understand. I have been attempting to communicate with them through my comlink ever since I received your message, but I have not had a response, either.”

Ariel stood right in front of Jeff and peered into his eyeslit. “I think this one’s Jeff. I’m not real good telling these robots apart, but they all have slight differences. This looks like him. You in there, Jeff?”

“All right,” said Derec. “This is going to take some effort. We’ll have to get them together with the other robots whose comlinks don’t work; I understand that two or three more have been found. Assistant Planner 3, please arrange for this. Make sure the medical team joins us.”

Chapter 16

SIMON SAYS

FIVE SUSPECT ROBOTS were taken to the Human Experimental Facility. Two were frozen into position and completely uncommunicative. The other three were mobile, apparently cooperative, and could speak aloud.

As Derec and Ariel entered the building, she shook her head and said, “I’m sure that one is Jeff. We really don’t have to waste time on the others.”

“I’m not doubting you,” said Derec. “I’m certain that one of those two is Jeff. The problem is that their bodies are the same model, so the medical team can’t tell them apart, and I’m not sure you can, either. In any case, it appears that we’ll have to smoke him out to make him admit which one he is.”

“Welcome to our facility,” said Research 1. “Please follow me down the hall. We have the suspect robots here waiting for you. It is large enough to accommodate everyone.”

He led them into a room from which all furniture and equipment had been removed. From the marks on the floor, Derec saw that it had been cleared for this project. The five suspects were standing in a line against one wall.

“Derec,” said one of them.

He looked up in surprise. “Alpha? Alpha, is that you?” He laughed and walked over to the one robot whose physical details were unique, suppressing an impulse to embrace him. “Hi. How did you get here?”

“Hi,” said Alpha. “I was able to obtain a very small spacecraft and trace the source of the asteroid-disassembling operation to this planet. Wolruf accompanied me. More recently, I was detained by a robot search team and brought here.”

“Spacecraft?” Derec suppressed a giggle of delight and caught Ariel’s eye. “And Wolruf, too. How is she?”

“She is recovering from a difficult trip.”

“Recovering?” Ariel said. “But she’ll be all right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad,” said Derec. “We’ve worried about her. We’ll want to see her when we can. What about the spacecraft? Does it still work? And is it here and available and all that?”

“Yes.”

“Step out of line, Alpha.” Derec turned, grinning to the medical team. “This is not Jeff. I put Alpha together myself.”

“Hi, Alpha,” said Ariel, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. “I’m real glad to see you. But why did they stop you? You have a comlink, don’t you.”

“Greetings, Katherine. My comlink was originally set at a slightly different frequency. I altered it but was detained anyway, I believe for having an anomalous comlink.”

“I’m Ariel Welsh now.”

“I do not understand,” said Alpha.

“Not now, not now. We’ll catch up with each other later,” said Derec. “For the business at hand, we’re down to four,” said Derec, looking over the others. “Research 1, were you able to begin testing, like you said?”

“Yes. According to our standard maintenance scanning procedure on their bodies, all four are in good condition, other than their common lack of functioning comlinks. Their heads have not been scanned. The two speaking robots have given identification that has been verified by the central computer. Their comlinks simply malfunctioned.”

“Dismiss them,” said Derec. “Alpha, you stay right here until further notice.”

“Report to the nearest repair facility,” said Research 1.

The other two robots left.

“So.” Derec stood in front of the two remaining robots, looking back and forth between them. “One of you is almost certainly Jeff. Unless you’ve fallen asleep, which I really doubt under the circumstances, you can hear me and you just aren’t letting on. Well, we’ll be right back.” He turned away, then paused to grin over his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere, now. You’ll give yourself away.”

“Surgeon 1, you stay and watch them. Research, you and Ariel step outside with me for a minute.”

Derec paused in the hall, but Research 1 shook his head. “This is not sufficient for privacy. If you want to talk privately, we must go into another room and I will create sonic camouflage. Do not forget that Jeff has robotic hearing.”

“Lead the way.” Derec could hardly keep from dancing around with joy. Alpha had a working spacecraft somewhere here — once he and Ariel had smoked out Jeff, they could turn him over to the robots and take off. As they followed Research 1 into another room, he saw the smile on Ariel’s face and nudged her playfully with his elbow. She elbowed him back, a lot harder, but still grinning.

They entered what was obviously the facility’s operating room. Research 1 flipped a switch on some sort of scanning apparatus and a faint hum came on.

“They will not hear us. What do you wish to discuss?” Research 1 asked.

“They?” Ariel asked, “I don’t get it. One of them is an inoperative robot, isn’t he?”

“Immobile is not necessarily inoperative,” said Research 1. “We must be cautious.”

“Exactly,” said Derec. “Here’s how I figure it so far — correct me if I’m off. Jeff saw us coming in time to order another robot to freeze, and probably to follow only his instructions to activate again. I did basically the same thing with Alpha once. However, in order to hear Jeff’s instruction to reactivate, the other robot has to maintain hearing sensitivity and at least some mental activity. Right?”

“Correct,” said Research 1.

“What about a shortcut?” Derec asked. “Can’t you just scan their heads and find out which has the biological brain in it?”

“No,” said Research 1. “In constructing his special cranium, we used materials that would be extremely resistant to the entrance of any forms of energy, as well as to physical impact. Turning up our scanning beams to a strength that would penetrate his cranium would endanger the brain inside.”

“Hold it,” said Ariel. “You could use your normal scanning beam, and when you get a reading for one positronic brain and one null reading, we’d know by elimination.”

“We dare not,” said Research 1. “The cranium was tested before use, but not with the human brain inside. Even the normal scanning beam could be dangerous. The First Law does not allow us to take a risk of this magnitude.”

“All right. Somehow, I’m not surprised.” Derec sighed.

“The Laws of Robotics still hold precedence on them, too, though,” said Ariel. “I assume our tests will still work — won’t they?”

“Yes. They are based on the following,” said Research 1. “If Jeff had a positronic brain, he would have to obey the Laws — for instance, if one of you were in danger, he would have to save you. However, as a human, he could allow you to come to harm if he wished.”

“The problem,” said Derec, “is that Jeff knows the Laws and can masquerade as a robot.”

“We also don’t know what he told the other robot,” said Ariel. “If the other robot knows that we are setting up tests, then he won’t believe we’re really in danger and he won’t have to obey the Laws, either.

They’ll still behave the same way.”

“Let’s get started and see what happens,” said Derec. “We’ll go in order, with tests one, two, and three.”

Derec and Ariel went back into the room with the suspect robots. The medical team had to leave, accompanied by Alpha, in order to avoid confusion. If they did not respond according to the Laws, the real robot would see it was a test; if they did respond, they would get in the way.

“I’ve had it with you,” Derec was yelling at Ariel. “You’re crazy.” He turned toward her in front of both robots.

“Oh, yeah?” She demanded. Then, according to their agreement, she swung back her fist and punched him in the stomach.

Even though he had been expecting the blow, Derec doubled over from the impact — partly from her very solid punch and partly as an act. Both robots jumped forward, no longer frozen in place, and pulled them apart. If one had been a shade faster, he couldn’t tell.

“Let go of me! Him, too!” Ariel shouted, as they had prearranged. Both robots obeyed, but remained between them, close enough to prevent more violence.

Derec, gasping for breath, looked up and found that they had both apparently deactivated again. It was time for the second test. He caught Ariel’s eye, saw that she was ready for him, and leaped at her throat as if to strangle her.

Instantly, both robots grabbed him in their powerful arms and held him fixed and helpless.

“Let go of me,” he ordered.

Neither one let him go. Now that the violence had been repeated, the First Law was going to remain in force over the Second, until they judged that the threat was over.

“You,” Ariel ordered, tapping one on the arm. “You go stand in the hall. The other one will keep me safe here. And you — Derec won’t hurt me right now. I know that. You can stand close if it makes you feel better, to stop us again if necessary.”

When both robots had complied, Derec and Ariel spoke amiably to demonstrate that the immediate threat of violence was over. Then the robots allowed them to retreat to the O. R. once again to consult with each other.

“Jeff’s pretty good,” said Derec. “He was right with the real robot every second — whichever one it was.” He grinned. “You’ve got a pretty good punch.”

Ariel shrugged. “Well, you said it should be the real thing. But now we know a little more. Direct application of the Laws activates the real robot, but only as long as the Laws apply. Then he freezes again, like Jeff ordered him.”

“We’d better keep them separate. If Jeff is picking up his cue by watching the other robot, he’ll never mess up.”

“Good idea. Ready for test three?”

“Let’s go,” he said.

In the hallway, Surgeon 1 handed him a small gray cylinder that fit conveniently into his hand. It was an intermediate laser scalpel, used for certain types of repair on robot bodies, capable of cutting through any portion of a robot body. Derec hefted it, shifted it comfortably, and held it up as he entered the testing room.

“I’m going to cut your leg off with this,” he said to the suspect robot. “In return for your interfering with me.” He turned it up to full power, stood where he was, and aimed the beam at the robot’s knee joint.

“The Third Law says you can’t allow this to happen. Right?”

The robot slid to one side, avoiding the beam. Derec followed him with it, and the robot moved away again. When Derec started shooting at his legs in spurts, like it was a gun, the robot danced around, backing up, dodging, watching the beam intently.

“I’ll get you,” Derec growled. “Ha! Close. Ha! Again. Almost. Ha! Hold still! I’ll take your leg off —”

The robot continued to shuffle away from the beam with its quick and reliable robot reflexes.

Derec laughed triumphantly and shut off the laser. “Got you, Jeff. An old Simon Says trick — remember that game? I ordered you to hold still, and in the heat of the moment, you forgot that the Second Law takes precedence over the Third. You didn’t hold still!”

The robot in front of him had frozen again, but now Derec was certain.

“You can’t fool me now; it’s too late. A positronic brain wouldn’t forget the order of the Laws for even a second, under any circumstances.” Derec called in everyone else and explained the situation.

“This is convincing to me,” said Research 1. “Since the other suspect is by elimination almost certain to be a true robot, we can verify beyond any doubt by sending him to a repair facility.”

“Research 1,” Surgeon 1 said warningly.

“I will escort him,” said Research 1. “The repair crews must be very cautious, in the event that we are mistaken. They must understand the situation, so that no Laws will be violated.”

Derec jerked his thumb at Jeff. “We know who he is, but until he quits play-acting, we can’t have much of a dialogue.”

Ariel caught his eye and inclined her head toward the door. Derec followed her out and they returned to the O. R. to talk. Surgeon 1 remained with Jeff.

“Maybe we can sucker him,” said Ariel.

“All right. How?”

“Loosen the watch on him. He’s still trying to play-act being a robot because there’s a microscopic chance that a positronic brain could have malfunctioned this way. But if he tries to escape, he’ll have to admit we know.”

A few minutes later, everyone gathered in the testing room again in front of Jeff, except for the robot still motionless in the hall.

“We’ve decided to move on to the next phase,” said Derec. “Research 1, please escort the other robot to be repaired.”

Research 1 left the room.

“Now,” said Derec. “Alpha, please leave the room but remain out in the hall — at the end of the hall, out of the way. We definitely have to talk to you.”

“Yes, Derec.” Alpha left.

“Surgeon 1,” said Ariel. “We are no longer completely sure that this robot is really Jeff. Return to your regular duties in the facility. Derec and I are going to have to figure out what to do next.”

“Very well.” Surgeon 1 left the room.

Derec casually put his arm around Ariel and walked her toward the door. “Maybe we should get something to eat and relax a little. Then we can work out our next move.”

Ariel closed the door behind them. Alpha was waiting motionless at the far end of the hall; they went out the front door, in the opposite direction. Without speaking, since they didn’t know how well Jeff could hear, they walked outside and looked around.

The Human Experimental Facility was a simple rectangular block. It had none of the striking geometic design of most of Robot City; with their usual efficiency, the robots had built it without frills. Derec saw nowhere to hide except around the corner.

They sat down on the pavement just around one corner, still silent, by prior arrangement. Jeff was likely to be cautious, so they knew they could have a long wait. Surgeon 1, also by agreement, had taken up his “regular duties” in a room across from the testing room. With his own robotic hearing, he also was waiting for Jeff to make his escape.

Derec found himself grinning in anticipation of using Alpha’s spacecraft. They could help the robots take care of Jeff, of course, but now that they could look forward to leaving when the job was done, waiting didn’t seem so bad. He looked at Ariel, who was also smiling when she turned to him. With suppressed laughter, they didn’t have to talk to feel close.

The day wore on, and Jeff’s patience was at least as good as theirs. Derec did notice that Ariel seemed as content as he was to keep waiting. He kept thinking that he would soon go somewhere and find out who he was, or even find a cure for his amnesia. Maybe she was dreaming of finding her own cure off the planet.

Finally, a single, moderately loud robotic shout went up inside the facility: “Derec!”

He recognized Surgeon 1’s voice, and jumped up with Ariel. Around the corner, Jeff was just now walking out the front door with controlled, casual steps.

“Got you!” yelled Derec, pointing at him. “Give it up.” He and Ariel ran up to block Jeff’s way.

Jeff reached for them both with his powerful robot arms. He was free of the First Law, but Surgeon 1

wasn’t, and he leaped on Jeff from behind, pinning his arms back.

“Alpha!” Derec called. “Come out here!”

“Release me,” Jeff yelled at Surgeon 1, pulling and jerking to no effect.

“You may not harm them or yourself,” Surgeon 1 answered.

“I have no intention of harming anyone,” Jeff shouted angrily. “I order you to release me.”

“Hold him, Doc,” said Ariel, keeping her distance.

Derec saw that Surgeon 1 was hesitating, probably experiencing a positronic conflict from the fact that Jeff had never really shown a desire to harm anyone. The weight of conflicting human orders was otherwise near neutral. Before, and now, he had only pushed them so that he could get away.

“Release me and freeze,” ordered Jeff. He wrenched himself free and started to run.

Surgeon 1 had not frozen, but he was moving slowly, uncertainly, as he worked through the conflicting human orders.

“Alpha!” Derec shouted, seeing him emerge from the building. “That’s Jeff. He needs medical care and doesn’t know it. First Law applies — stop him!”

In surprise, Jeff paused to look back. Surgeon 1 was again galvanized to action by the First Law application, since it overrode the problems of the Second Law. He tackled Jeff around the knees as Alpha ran up to pinion his arms.

Jeff’s robot fist swung low and jerked back Surgeon 1’s head. He also raised a knee and then kicked upward, throwing Alpha back. Surgeon 1 held on, though, preventing him from getting away.

As the three robot bodies wrestled and thrashed together, Derec saw the difficulty: Alpha and Surgeon 1

could only subdue Jeff without risking any damage to him, and in the confusion of combat, they were being particularly careful, since no one had ever really tested the cranial protection around Jeff’s brain.

On the other hand, Jeff was free to smash, twist, and rip at their bodies in any way he thought would get him free.

Derec skipped helplessly around the three tussling bodies. With two opponents, Jeff could not get free, but with the unequal restrictions placed on them, the other two could not pin him down, either. Ariel looked from them to Derec questioningly — then turned and ran, looking for more help.

Now Alpha was lying flat on his back, with Jeff trying to get up off him while Surgeon 1 again had his arms pinned behind him. Jeff managed to get one of his legs under him, and struggled to stand. Alpha’s standard arm was caught beneath his body, and Jeff was still gripping his other one above the elbow.

His other one.

“Alpha,” shouted Derec. “Make your arm flexible — loosen it up. Use it however you need to in order to stop him!”

Instantly, Alpha’s arm lost its elbow entirely and became a fully flexible coil. The hand curved back and tightened on Jeff’s wrist to pull it free. Then the arm curved around, locking the joints on Jeff’s arm to make it immobile.

Surgeon 1 released Jeff’s arms and encircled his knees. Alpha and Surgeon 1 stood up and finally held Jeff immobile, off the ground, as Ariel ran up with a couple of other robots she had commandeered with an emergency First Law appeal.

Jeff was still thrashing about in his captors’ arms. “You slag heaps! You traitorous can heads! You can’t hold me! I’m human, you understand? Let go of me! Now! I order you to put me down!”

“Can you sedate him?” Derec asked. “You can’t just hang onto him this way while we figure out what to do next. Making him sleep wouldn’t be harming him.”

“I will sedate him,” said Surgeon 1, still holding Jeff’s legs with effort. “We are making progress, I believe. When Research 1 returns, we must consult on the matter of treatment. I experienced a moment of hesitation while in physical conflict just now over a First Law question that must be addressed.” He took a step backward, reacting to a convulsive kick by Jeff. The other robots took hold as well, assuring that the cyborg could not escape.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll melt you all down!” Jeff screamed. “Just wait till I’m in charge!” He thrashed and kicked again.

“Go ahead and do what you need to,” said Derec. “We’ll hang around; don’t worry about that.”

“Into the O. R.,” said Surgeon 1. He and the others trooped inside the building, carrying their screaming cargo.

Derec let out a sigh of relief and turned to Ariel, ready to make some kind of joke. He stopped when he saw the look of disappointment on her face.

Chapter 17

WOLRUF

JEFF WOKE UP in dim light again, but this time he recognized the room. He was not connected to any monitors now, though. His eyes adjusted quickly; he was used to that now, too, and didn’t really notice it. He felt firm restraints of some sort holding him in place.

So they had him again. His memory was clear enough — with the bunch of robots forcing him down, Surgeon 1 had somehow introduced a substance into his neck. Jeff supposed it had gone into one of the nutrient avenues to his brain. In any case, he had been sleeping, and still felt drowsy and languid.

He was alone in the room, which was silent, but he could hear faint noises beyond the walls. His enemies were probably holding a meeting of some sort. By concentrating, he was able to turn up his aural acuity, and just make out some familiar voices.

“The First Law problem I experienced was this,” said Surgeon 1. “We have reason to believe that the transplantation of Jeff’s brain into a robot body has adversely affected him. If so, then the First Law requires that we undo the transplant, once we have scanned Derec for the knowledge we need to repair Jeff’s body.”

“So what’s the problem?” Ariel asked.

“The problem is Jeff’s resistance,” said Surgeon 1. “We are not certain that the transplant has adversely affected him. Without the imperative of the First Law, we cannot transplant his brain — or even test him — without his permission.”

“And he certainly doesn’t seem inclined to give it,” Derec observed. “There’s not much doubt about that.”

Jeff muttered to himself, “You’re right about that, frost head. You’re absolutely right about that. You want to take my body away from me again? You want to make me into a weakling again, like you? Stop me from taking over this planet? Ha.”

“When is he due to wake up?” asked Research 1. “Any time now,” said Surgeon 1.

“Then I suggest, first, that we be more cautious in discussing him, since he may hear us,” said Research 1, “and, second, that we consult with him and make certain that he understands our position.”

“Good idea,” said Derec. “Alpha, you and Wolruf stay here. That room won’t hold all of us comfortably.”

The moment the door opened, letting in a shaft of bright white light, Jeff shouted, “Let me out of here!

You have no right to hold me prisoner — none of you do! Now let me up!”

They lined up at the foot of his bed, shoulder to shoulder, watching him in silence: Research 1 and Surgeon 1 on the left, and Derec and Ariel on the right.

“Frost! Don’t you understand your own Laws?” Jeff demanded of the robots.

“Yes,” said both robots in unison. They looked anxiously at Derec and Ariel.

“It’s not that simple, Jeff,” said Derec. “Look, there’s a possibility that a medical problem —”

“Sure it is,” Jeff growled. “I want to get up and out. That’s very simple. So, let me up and out. What are you after me for, anyway? I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re not yourself, Jeff,” said Ariel sympathetically. “A little while ago, you were shouting about taking over. You remember talking to me through some sort of broadcasting link? You told me we could be very powerful here. But I don’t think that’s really you.”

“It is now,” Jeff said haughtily. “They created the new me, and now this is me. And you have no right to make me over again.”

“All they really need at this stage,” said Derec, “is to run some tests on you. They want to find out if there’s a chemical imbalance in your brain that they caused —”

“Making me crazy? Is that it? You telling me I’ve gone crazy? I’m not stupid; I’ll tell you that much. I know you want to get rid of me. You don’t like having someone as powerful as I am around, do you?

Huh?” Jeff laughed triumphantly, and loudly.

“Jeff,” said Ariel. “They have to act according to the Laws, and they can’t do that fully unless they run their tests. That way, they’ll know exactly where you stand.”

“Frost!” Jeff yelled angrily. “If they have to obey the Laws, then why don’t they let me go when I tell them to? Huh?”

“Their responsibility is larger than that,” said Derec. “Since they put you in this condition, the Laws demand that they make sure you’re really okay. The tests alone won’t hurt you any, or change you.”

“Oh, yeah? How do I know that? Huh?” Jeff looked around at them all. “Supposedly this transplant couldn’t hurt me, either, only now you’re all saying they might have made a mistake. Well, what if they make another one? What about that?”

Derec glanced at the robots, who said nothing.

“Let’s leave him alone for a while,” said Derec. “Come on.” Before they left, Research 1 turned on one of the machines in the room. Jeff understood its purpose. The white noise would drown out his ability to eavesdrop any more.

When Jeff was alone again, with the door closed, he tested his restraints. He couldn’t see what they were, since he was flat on his back, but they were stronger than he was. If he was going to get out of this untouched by the robots, he would have to argue his way out.

Somehow.

Back in the testing room, Derec turned to his companions with an exaggerated shrug. “Well? Now what?”

“I regret to interrupt,” said Alpha, “but I must inform you of a fundamental change in my identity.”

“What?” Derec turned to him. “What are you talking about?”

“At the time you instructed me to use my cellular arm, I experienced a signal from it changing my designation from Alpha to Mandelbrot.”

“Mandelbrot?” Ariel said. “Why?”

“I do not know.”

“What does it mean?” Derec asked. He was annoyed at the interruption in his train of thought about Jeff, but he could not ignore the mystery.

“It means nothing other than a name change to me,” said Mandelbrot.

“And it came from your cellular arm at the time I gave you the order to use it.” Derec thought a moment.

“It was encoded in your arm when I found the part, then. Using your flexibility triggered the signal....”

“Could it be a safety measure of some kind?” Ariel asked. “Maybe a warning. This whole planet seems to be programmed with fear and security in mind. His arm came from an Avery robot on that asteroid, didn’t it?”

“That’s right,” said Derec. “I don’t know exactly what the signal means. Perhaps it was triggered by the combined use of some Avery parts and some standard robot parts together.” He looked at Ariel.

“Maybe it means another signal has been sent out to call Avery back.”

“If he’s alive.”

“Yeah.” Derec shook his head. “First things first. Let’s get back to Jeff.”

“That theory is consistent with another important change in me,” said Mandelbrot.

“What is it?” Derec asked impatiently.

“My store of data pertinent to the location of this planet was erased at the time of the name change.”

Derec and Ariel both turned to him.

“How important is that?” Derec demanded. “You can still program a ship away from here to a major spacelane, can’t you?”

“Given the considerable length of spacelanes, I believe so. However, this memory erasure suggests that the signal from my arm was definitely related to the security and isolation of this planet.”

“Good point,” said Derec, “but once we leave this place, I’m not going to care. Let’s get back to Jeff.”

“I surmise that your visit was not productive,” said Mandelbrot. “May I assist you in any way?”

“I haven’t thought of how yet,” said Derec. “The trouble so far is that the robots can’t treat him without permission, and Ariel and I, who don’t need permission, don’t have the skill to treat him. Anybody have any suggestions?” He looked around at all of them.

“Is there anything we can do to prove that Jeff is out of his head?” Ariel asked. Then she covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to phrase it that way.”

Derec smiled wryly. “We’re all under a strain.”

“I cannot think of anything,” said Research 1. “The kind of unmistakable scientific evidence we require to reach a conclusion is only available through a direct analysis of his physical condition.”

“Frost, Derec!” Ariel turned to Research 1. “How about us? Can you teach us to help just a little? If we extracted samples of fluid for you, and you analyzed them afterward — would that be acceptable?”

Research 1 hesitated just long enough to reveal some doubt behind his answer. “The acceptability of that arrangement would ultimately rest on how skillful you became. Drawing a sample of synthetic blood would not be difficult, I believe. However, he does not have much margin for error. Unlike naturally evolved biological bodies, Jeff’s robot body has almost exactly the amount of fluid he requires. Taking too much could be fatal.”

“You could make extra,” said Derec. “Give him a transfusion while the procedure is going on.”

“You would have to administer the transfusion, as well,” said Surgeon 2. “And you would have to avoid flooding his system as well as starving it. Nor could you risk mixing the new fluid with the old, or the analysis would be worthless. At this point, we have confronted more complex procedures, including constant study and understanding of the monitors. We would be in violation of the First Law if we allowed Jeff to take significant risks in this manner.”

Derec nodded, though he was disappointed. “I can’t argue with that. The truth is, I’m not sure I’m ready for responsibility over his life that way, myself.”

Ariel sighed. “Then we need the permission of a crazy guy. Any idea how to get it?”

Jeff wasn’t tired, really, but he had closed his eyes and rested for lack of anything else he could do. He was imprisoned by enemies who were afraid of his power, but he had not given up hope. He could afford to be charitable, once he had taken over.

He opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening, but when he looked, he couldn’t see anyone.

Then the door closed again. He stiffened at a faint padding sound on the floor.

“Who’s there?” He demanded suspiciously.

“Iss Wolruf,” said an odd voice.

“What?”

The caninoid alien climbed gently onto the foot of the bed. She had been near death by starvation the only other time he had seen her. Now her mottled brown and gold fur was full and glossy, and her eyes alert and bright. She was perhaps the size of a large dog, such as a small St. Bernard, but her face was flat, without an extended snout, and her ears stood high and pointed. Instead of paws, she had clumsy looking gray-skinned fingers on what he supposed were hands.

“My name iss Wolruf to ‘umans. Iss really —” She made an unpronounceable noise and bared her teeth in what might have been a playful smile.

“Wolruf?”

“I came to thank ‘u for ‘aving me fed,” said Wolruf. “Alpha told me ‘u saved my life.”

“Yeah? Now what do you want?”

“Want nothing,” said Wolruf. “Thank ‘u.”

Jeff watched her for a moment. “You okay now? Is thatAlpha? — taking care of you properly?”

“Everything iss fine.”

“He just didn’t know how to handle this town, did he?”

“No. Iss strangrr even herr in city of robots.”

“Wait a minute. I remember now. I get it. These other robots didn’t have to help because you aren’t human.”

“Iss true.”

Jeff laughed in his still-unfamiliar robot voice. “Yes, yes, Jeffrey. This city belongs to you. Only you can see the needs of people here. You can do what no one else here can.” He caught Wolruf’s eye. “Right?

Huh? You should know.”

She blinked mildly at him.

“Huh? Right?” He insisted.

“Rright:’ she said. “But I’m worried.”

“Oh?” Jeff said airily. “Anything else I can help with?”

“Worried about my friend.”

Jeff hesitated. “Yeah? Who?”

“‘U,” said Wolruf, nodding at him.

He started to retort, but Wolruf’s quiet sincerity stopped him.

“‘Urr my first new friend herr,” said Wolruf. “Saved my life. Don’t want ‘u ‘urt.”

“Everybody says that,” said Jeff, but he seemed to lack the same angry suspicion that he had felt before.

“‘U saved my life,” Wolruf repeated.

“I guess I did. Are you saying you want to repay me?”

Her caninoid shoulders twitched in a sort of furry shrug. “Won’t force ‘u.”

“You may be the first follower I have,” Jeff said wonderingly. “Robots have to obey me. Derec and Ariel haven’t really... come around yet, you might say. What are you worried about, anyhow?”

“‘U could be sick.”

Jeff stiffened. “Sick? How can I be sick, when I haven’t got a normal body?”

“‘Urr brain could be sick.” She nodded. “Could be. Could be fine.”

“They sent you in here, didn’t they? To change my mind.”

“No. They’rr too busy to remembu Wolruf. Forgot about me.

I just walked away while they werr talking. Came to see ‘u.”

“Really?” Jeff was surprised. “Just to see me?”

“‘U’ve been alone on Robot City. Only one of ‘urr kind. I know about that. ‘U could be sick and can’t tell. Could find out.”

Jeff looked up at the ceiling. He had been feeling lonely, now that she mentioned it. Maybe he was sick.

“I don’t trust them,” he said to Wolruf. “I can take over this city — this whole planet. They want to stop me.” The fire was gone, though; he felt it himself. He was tired, emotionally tired.

“Robots can’t ‘urt ‘u on purpose,” she reminded him. “Make rare mistakes, but can’t ‘urt ‘uman on purpose.”

“Derec and Ariel —”

“Robots can’t allow them to ‘urt ‘u, either. Test can tell ‘u if ‘urr sick or not.”

Jeff closed his eyes and sighed.

Derec hadn’t seen Wolruf leave the group in the testing room, but he noticed her come back in. The little alien bore her distinctive teeth-baring grin when she looked up at him.

“What is it, Wolruf?” He asked.

“Jeff changed ‘is mind. Will take test now.”

Everyone turned to look at her.

“Are you certain?” asked Research 1.

“I’ve underestimated you before,” said Derec. “Remind me not to do it again.”

“Wolruf? How did you manage that?” Ariel asked in astonishment.

“Just talked to ‘im,” said Wolruf. “Suggest ‘u don’t talk to ‘im, or ‘e’ll change ‘is mind.”

“We’ll take your word for it,” said Derec. “Research 1, you and Surgeon 1 go ahead and run your tests.

I suggest that you also conduct a minimum of conversation with him. I guess he’s still pretty unpredictable.”

“I will begin the procedures with Jeff,” said Research 1. “May I request that you allow Surgeon 1 to conduct the scans of your body that we have already discussed? The equipment is prepared, and the central computer will benefit from the information regardless of Jeff’s condition and wishes.”

“Sure.” Derec turned to Ariel and Mandelbrot. “As soon as I’m finished —”

“Right. We’ll be here,” she said with a grin. “Wolruf, too.”

Derec followed Surgeon 1 into a cramped room and stretched out, undressed, on a cold platform at the robot’s bidding. The robot attached a variety of sensors to him, all connected to some of the worst looking jury-rigged equipment Derec had seen on this planet. For once, the necessity for speed had overcome the values of minimalist engineering; the robots had put together something that would work, ignoring convenience and appearance.

As Surgeon 1 ran various vibrations through parts of his body and shot him with invisible rays, Derec assured himself that once the emergency with Jeff was past, they would either improve the engineering of this equipment or discard it altogether. They weren’t likely to allow an anomaly like this to remain as it was. Still, he felt a sense of petty satisfaction in seeing that they weren’t always perfect.

When the scans were finished, Derec got dressed as Surgeon 1 glanced over the monitors.

“This is sufficient,” said Surgeon 1. “We are capable of restoring Jeff’s body to a state of health, granted his normal recuperative powers after surgery. Research 1 has contacted me through his comlink, and requests our presence back in the testing room.”

Research 1 was waiting when they got there. “Well?” Derec said. “How is he?”

“Ariel’s theory appears to be correct. The level of several hormones that can affect mood and behavior in humans were higher than we had intended. Given the limited blood supply, very small amounts skew the percentages.”

“I was sure he wasn’t that bad a guy,” said Ariel.

“Me, too,” said Wolruf.

“What are you going to do, though?” Derec asked. “Have you discussed this with him yet?”

“No. Surgeon 1 and I must confer over the details. If Surgeon 1 agrees with me, then Jeff Leong is not responsible for his behavior. In that event, we would take the position that our judgment of his condition under the First Law would override all his orders to us under the Second Law.”

“Whew,” said Ariel. “That’s a very big step.”

“I think,” said Derec, “that it’s time for us to take care of some personal business. Research 1, do you need further human assistance at the moment? If not, we have an important errand to run.”

“We do not require your assistance at this time,” said Research 1. “I request your return later in the day.”

“No problem.” Derec turned to Mandelbrot with a big grin. “Okay, friend. Show us this spacecraft you have waiting. I’ll have to check its condition and facilities and all. Where is it?”

“It is in a rural area just outside the urban perimeter. One of the tunnels will take us close to the spot.”

“Let’s go — you, Wolruf, Ariel and me.”

The trip out to the perimeter was uneventful, except for the glow of excitement that Derec and Ariel shared. Once they reached the construction perimeter, they had to start hiking. Fortunately, Mandelbrot had chosen a broad, open field for his landing, with only a short cushion of broad-bladed, blue ground cover.

“I see it!” Ariel shouted, pointing to a sliver of blue-silver glinting in the sunlight. It was just beyond a gentle rise in the terrain.

Derec looked up eagerly, then felt a sudden weight of disappointment, even though it was still mostly out of sight. He didn’t say anything, though, until they had topped the rise and were looking down on the sleek, undamaged craft. Ariel, too, stopped in surprise.

“It’s a lifepod,” Derec said dully. It was so small that even the gently rolling ground had hidden it almost completely.

“Correct,” said Mandelbrot. “A somewhat converted lifepod. I modified it.”

“Alpha,” said Derec, shaking his head. “Mandelbrot, I mean.”

“I detect distress,” said Mandelbrot. “What is its cause?”

“Whatever your name is,” Ariel wailed, “we wanted to get out of here. But this little ship only has room for one.”

“I traveled with ‘im,” said Wolruf.

“Mandelbrot, why didn’t you tell us it could only carry one full-sized humanoid?” Derec asked. “I asked you where it was, what condition it was in, and so on.”

“The only subject of discussion at that time was the welfare of Jeff Leong. I surmised that you wanted it for his use. It is adequate for that purpose.”

“Yeah.” Derec sighed. “So it is.” He slipped an arm casually around Ariel’s shoulders. “I think it’s more important to get Ariel off the planet, though. She has — something to take care of.”

She took his hand and squeezed it, probably for not mentioning her disease in particular.

“How did you modify it?” Derec asked.

“I was able to give it a significant drive ability. Also, I was able to create space for Wolruf. I myself used the space principally intended for human use, but of course I do not have the supply requirements. The supply space was available for her provisions.”

Derec nodded, staring silently at the little ship. No one else spoke. They all seemed to understand the realization, and what it meant to him. Finally, when he turned away, they followed him back to the tunnel stop without a word.

By the time they returned to the facility, Research 1 and Surgeon 1 were just leaving the O. R.

“Are you finished already?” Ariel asked in surprise. “How is he?”

“The procedures have apparently been successful so far,” said Surgeon 1. “Unlike the transplantation into his robot body, which required no recovery period, his human body will require an extended recuperative phase with close attention from us.”

“The most important unknown factor now is his biological recuperative power, with which we have little experience,” said Research 1. “However, we —”

“You think he’ll be okay,” Derec interpreted. “Right?”

“Correct,” said Research 1.

“What about his, well, his attitude?” Ariel asked. “Will his emotional state be normal again?”

“We will have to wait for data about that question. He will sleep for many hours, yet,” said Surgeon 1.

“We will also have him mildly tranquilized when he first awakens. to guard against further shock when he finds himself fully human again.”

“If his body is truly recovering,” said Research 1, “his serum levels in all cases should gradually return to normal. I surmise that the effect will not be immediate, but our information is poor on this subject.”

Ariel nodded.

“We’ll be moving along,” said Derec. “I’m going to get on the central computer and see about refurbishing a certain little spacecraft. Also, how many further modifications it might take. Keep us up to date on Jeff through my console, all right?”

Chapter 18

LIFT-OFF

DEREC WAS ABLE to assemble a work crew of function robots to take care of the spacecraft under Mandelbrot’s direction. The computer released them from normal du, ty with the understanding that Ariel’s welfare would be aided by her leaving the planet. It was not exactly a clear First Law requirement, but in the absence of significant objections, it was sufficient.

Derec was disappointed to learn that the ship would not support the modifications required to support a second human passenger, but he was not surprised. The entire craft was just too small. He and Ariel had watched the robots construct a hangar near where Mandelbrot had landed it, in which minor repairs could be made. He followed the robots’ progress with a certain intellectual interest.

Ariel did not seem to like talking about the ship, or where she would go in it. He understood that Aurora was off-limits, and neither of them really knew where she might reasonably look for a cure. Anyway, she wouldn’t discuss it.

She brightened for the first time when Research 1 called through the computer console. He told Derec that Jeff was alert, talking, and no longer drugged, for the first time since his body had been restored. She insisted that she and Derec visit him right away.

They found Jeff lying on an air cushion, wearing a soft, loose gown that billowed gently around him.

Research 1 had told them that Jeff was self-conscious about the numerous scars he now bore, though they could be largely eliminated by further procedures later on. Derec looked at Jeff’s slender body and Asian face and thought he looked more as though he was Derec’s age than eighteen.

Jeff’s dark eyes darted back and forth suspiciously between them. He said nothing.

“How are you?” Ariel asked.

Jeff looked at her without speaking for a long moment. “Human,” he said quietly. “I guess.”

“Feeling better?” Derec asked. Jeff shrugged shyly.

“Are you angry?” Ariel asked.

“About what?” Jeff said cautiously.

Derec looked uncomfortably at Ariel. He hadn’t spoken to Jeff as often as she had, and didn’t know how to approach him.

“You’re not a robot any more,” she said.

Jeff shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I, uh... feel like I’ve been in a fog, or something. Like I’ve been dreaming. Almost like it wasn’t real. I remember it, I guess....” He looked up at them both sharply, watching for their reactions.

Derec looked at Ariel again.

“You think I’m lying?” Jeff’s voice had a hint of familiar belligerence. “You think I’m just trying to duck responsibility, I suppose. Why don’t you get out of here?”

“Come on,” Ariel said quietly, tugging at Derec’s sleeve. “Let’s leave him alone.”

Ariel led Derec into what had been the testing room. The original equipment had been put back into it, but it was still an adequate place to talk, especially since Jeff no longer had robotic hearing.

“We have to send him, not me,” Ariel said bluntly.

“What?” Derec straightened in surprise.

“He’s got to be the one to go.”

“He can wait, just like I’ll have to. Ariel, you’re the one who needs a cure. If Jeff knew that, he might not object, either.”

“Derec, did you see how he looked at us? He’s not over his — ordeal. He still thinks we’re out to get him in some way.”

“If you go, then he and I will get acquainted. We’ll make friends eventually, like you and I did. We’ll practically have to, being the only humans on the planet.”

“No, Derec. We have to prove to him that we don’t have a grudge — that people will help others just because they need it, and not because they’re going to get something selfish out of it.”

“Then let him prove it by helping you! You need to go worse than he does. That should be the basis for the decision.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go, at least not yet.”

“What? What do you mean, you shouldn’t go?”

“Derec, I don’t know where to look for a cure. I could just go out and wander, but that’s not very reliable. Maybe if I stay here, Research 1 could take a culture from me and get to work on a cure. It might take a long time, but it would be a chance.”

He hesitated, and looked at the unidentifiable equipment around the room. “The level of medical knowledge here is pretty erratic... but I guess the First Law might require him to try.”

“And once that’s set up, then I could take the next chance I had to leave.”

“You could leave a culture with Research 1 now and go yourself.”

“Leaving Jeff here that way just doesn’t seem fair.” She shook her head. “Besides, it would just help convince him that we’re only out for ourselves.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Well, no.” She looked away, smiling with embarrassment. “Anyway, why are you trying so hard to get rid of me?”

Derec folded his arms and shrugged. “Do you remember right after we first got here? I told you that I would stay to help the robots as they had asked, but that we could ask them to send you away.”

“I told you I would stay with you.” She nodded.

“Well, I’ve always been glad you decided to stay, but... I figure it would be better for you to go, that’s all.” He shrugged again, feeling his face grow hot.

“You want me to stay with you, don’t you?” She had to bend down a little to get under his lowered gaze, and she gave him a playful, knowing smile. “Don’t you?”

“Well....” He couldn’t keep from smiling himself, but he was surprised when she put her arms around him and gave him a long hug. “As long as I’m still stuck here, anyhow....” He had just recovered enough to hug her back when she patted him and pulled away.

She laughed. “Come on. Let’s go tell him.”

Jeff held the highly polished rectangle of metal in one hand and angled it so he could see himself.

Research 1 had provided it in answer to his request for a mirror; the robots had not possessed, or ever desired, a personal mirror. He ran his hand along his jaw, then gently squeezed his cheeks so that his mouth puffed out. Then he smiled faintly at the face and wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

“It’s you again,” he said, almost in a whisper. “It’s me again.” He was losing the impulse to talk to himself, though, so he quit.

Still, he couldn’t stop looking in his mirror. This was him, like he was supposed to be. He was back again. Jeff Leong, the eighteen-year-old, was alive and getting better, if not exactly well yet.

At the sound of a knock, he lowered the mirror. “Yeah?” He said quietly.

The door opened just enough for Ariel to stick her head inside. “We have to tell you something.”

Jeff tensed. “Yeah?”

She and Derec entered the room. “We just wanted to let you know that as soon as you’re well enough, we have a spacecraft that can take you off the planet. Depending on how fast you recover, you might still make the start of the new semester.”

He studied their faces for a moment. “How much?”

Ariel looked at him, uncomprehending.

“It’s free,” said Derec.

“You’re going to give me a spacecraft, supplies, and fuel for free? What do you want me to do for you?”

“Nothing!” Derec said angrily. “Listen, why —”

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Jeff, you can consider it a loan, if you like. As a matter of fact, if you could send someone back to pick us up someday — we don’t have any money, either, and I know you don’t — but if you ever got the chance to do that, it would be more than enough repayment.”

“I’m no navigator,” said Jeff. “I don’t suppose I could send anyone back here, or even find it myself. I guess I should tell you that.” He watched them closely, expecting them to change their minds.

“Fair enough,” said Ariel. “We know that Mandelbrot lost his data when he stopped being Alpha, so he can’t help, either.”

Jeff shifted his gaze to Derec.

“When you’re well enough, it’s all yours.” Derec nodded.

Jeff looked at them both without speaking, not sure whether to believe them or not. From the moment he had first awakened on this planet, virtually nothing that he had seen, heard, or done had been believable.

This was no different.

“Did you hear what we said?” Ariel asked.

“Yeah.” His voice was low and wary.

They looked at each other uncertainly. He watched them, not sure what to expect. Then, without further comment, they left.

Jeff’s physical recovery progressed well, and Derec suspected that the First Law made his robot medical team more cautious and conservative in their judgments than human doctors would have been.

Still, even when it was clear that his brain had been successfully transplanted, his bodily injuries also had to heal. He remained quiet and wary in his manner, but he was no longer egotistical or insulting. Ariel noticed that that behavior had vanished with his robot body.

Derec suggested to Ariel that they form a farewell gathering for Jeff’s lift-off. Once he had recovered enough to travel, Mandelbrot set the computer in the little ship and gave him a quick course in its manual controls, in the event of emergency. Basically, the computer was to locate the nearest spacelane and wait there, sending a continuous distress signal. No one, including the robots, questioned that in a major spacelane he would be picked up before his life-support ran out.

Jeff remained quiet and cautious even as he was about to leave, but Research 1 was certain that the physical effects of his experience were wearing off.

“He has been integrated with his body for some time now,” said Research 1. “His serum levels are his own.”

As they stood near the hangar waiting for Jeff to enter the ship, Ariel added, “After he’s back in normal human society again, I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

“He hasn’t acted very grateful,” said Derec. “After all, we don’t have to send him. Both of us want to get out of here, too.”

“Shh,” said Ariel.

Jeff walked up to them. He still moved slowly and tentatively sometimes, but he was fully mobile now. “I just wanted to tell you that if I can figure out where this planet is, I’ll get word to some emergency people.”

“I know you will,” said Ariel. “Have a good trip.”

“And thanks for the, uh, chance to go.” He looked away shyly.

“It’s all right,” said Derec. “Take care of yourself.”

Jeff looked up at Research 1 and Surgeon 1 with a slight grin. “Well, it’s certainly been interesting knowing you two. Thanks for getting me all back together.”

“You are welcome,” they said in unison.

He looked around at them all, and stopped at Wolruf. “You okay, kiddo?”

“Okay,” said Wolruf, with a furry nod that quivered her pointed ears. “‘U be careful on ‘urr trip.”

“Well... good-bye.” Jeff nodded awkwardly and joined Mandelbrot at the ship. The robot would make sure he was properly prepared for lift-off.

Moments later, he was in the ship and it was roaring away, ascending quickly into the sky until it was only a sliver of light reflected from the sun.

Derec watched it rise, squinting into the deep sky until the back of his neck hurt from the strain. “Our one greatest wish,” he said. “And we gave it away.”

Ariel took his arm in both her hands and leaned against him. “We did right, Derec. Besides, we aren’t through yet.”

He looked down at her and grinned. “Not us — not by a long shot.”

Together, they turned and led the little group back toward Robot City.

Prodigy

3604 A.D.

Chapter 1

CAN YOU FEEL ANYTHING WHEN I DO THIS?

“MANDELBROT, WHAT DOES it feel like to be a robot?”

“Forgive me, Master Derec, but that question is meaningless. While it is certainly true that robots can be said to experience sensations vaguely analogous to specified human emotions in some respects, we lack feelings in the accepted sense of the word.”

“Sorry, old buddy, but I can’t help getting the hunch that you’re just equivocating with me.”

“That would be impossible. The very foundations of positronic programming insist that robots invariably state the facts explicitly.”

“Come, come, don’t you concede it’s possible that the differences between human and robotic perception may be, by and large, semantic? You agree, don’t you, that many human emotions are simply the by-products of chemical reactions that ultimately affect the mind, influencing moods and perceptions.

You must admit, humans are nothing if not at the mercy of their bodies.”

“That much has been proven, at least to the satisfaction of respected authorities.”

“Then, by analogy, your own sensations are merely byproducts of smoothly running circuitry and engine joints. A spaceship may feel the same way when, its various parts all working at peak efficiency, it breaks into hyperspace. The only difference between you and it being, I suppose, that you have a mind to perceive it.”

Mandelbrot paused, his integrals preoccupied with sorting Derec’s perspectives on these matters into several categories in his memory circuits. “I have never quite analyzed the problem that way before, Master Derec. But it seems that in many respects the comparison between human and robot, robot and spaceship must be exceedingly apt.”

“Let’s look at it this way, Mandelbrot. As a human, I am a carbon-based life-form, the superior result of eons of evolution of inferior biological life-forms. I know what it feels like because I have a mind to perceive the gulf between man and other species of animal life. And with careful, selective comparison, I can imagine — however minimally — what a lower life-form might experience as it makes its way through the day. Furthermore, I can communicate to others what I think it feels like.”

“My logic circuits can accept this.”

“Okay then, through analogy or metaphor or through a story I can explain to others what a worm, or a rat, or a cat, or even a dinosaur must feel as they hunt meat, go to sleep, sniff flowers, or whatever.”

“I have never seen one of these creatures and certainly wouldn’t presume to comprehend what it must be like to be one.”

“Ah! But you would know — through proper analogy — what it must be like to be a spaceship.”

“Possibly, but I have not been provided with the necessary programming to retrieve the information.

Furthermore, I cannot see how such knowledge could possibly help me fulfill the behavioral standards implicit in the Three Laws.”

“But you have been programmed to retrieve such information, and your body often reacts accordingly, and sometimes adversely, with regards to your perceptions.”’

“You are speaking theoretically?”

“Yes.”

“Are you formally presenting me with a problem?”

“Yes.”

“Naturally I shall do my best to please you, Master Derec, but my curiosity and logic integrals are only equipped to deal with certain kinds of problems. The one you appear to be presenting may be too subjective for my programmed potentials.”

“Isn’t all logic abstract, and hence somewhat subjective, at least in approach? You must agree that, through mutually agreed upon paths of logic, you can use the certain knowledge of two irrefutable facts to learn a third, equally irrefutable fact.”

“Of course.”

“Then can’t you use such logic to reason how it might feel to be a spaceship, or any other piece of sufficiently advanced machinery?”

“Since you phrase it that manner, of course, but I fail to comprehend what benefit such an endeavor may bring me — or you.”

Derec shrugged. It was night in Robot City. He and Mandelbrot had been out walking. He had felt the need to stretch his muscles after a long day spent studying some of the problems complicating his escape from this isolated planet. But at the moment they were sitting atop a rectangular tower and staring at the stars. “Oh, I don’t know if it would be of any benefit, except perhaps to satisfy my curiosity. It just seems to me that you must have some idea of what it is like to be a robot, even if you don’t have the means to express it.”

“Such knowledge would require language, and such a language has not yet been invented.”

“Hmmm. I suppose.”

“However, I have just made an association that may be of some value.”

“What’s that?”

“Whenever you or Mistress Ariel have had no need of my assistance, I have been engaging in communication with the robots of this city. They haven’t been wondering what it means or feels like to be a robot, but they have been devoting a tremendous amount of spare mental energy to the dilemma of what it must be like to be a human.”

“Yes, that makes sense, after a fashion. The robots’ goal of determining the Laws of Humanics has struck me as a unique phenomenon.”

“Perhaps it is not, Master Derec. After all, if I may remind you, you recall only your experiences of the last few weeks, and my knowledge of history is rather limited in scope. Even so, I never would have thought of making connections the way you have, which leads my circuits to conclude your subconscious is directing our conversation so that it has some bearing on your greater problems.”

Derec laughed uncomfortably. He hadn’t considered it before. Strange, he thought, that a robot had.

“My subconscious? Perhaps. I suppose I feel that if I better understand the world I’m in, I might better understand myself.”

“I believe I am acting in accordance with the Three Laws if I help a human know himself better. For that reason, my circuits are currently humming with a sensation you might recognize as pleasure.”

“That’s nice. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone right now.” For a moment Derec felt a vague twinge of anxiety, and he actually feared that he might be insulting Mandelbrot, a robot that, after all they’d been through together, he couldn’t help but regard as his good friend.

But if Mandelbrot had taken umbrage, he showed no evidence of it. He was, as always, inscrutable. “Of course. I shall wait in the lobby.”

Derec watched as Mandelbrot walked to the lift and slowly descended. Of course Mandelbrot hadn’t taken umbrage. It was impossible for him to be insulted.

Crossing his legs to be more comfortable, Derec returned to looking at the stars and the cityscape spread out below and beyond, but his thoughts remained inward. Normally he was not the reflective type, but tonight he felt moody, and gave in easily to the anxiousness and insecurity he normally held in check while trying to deal with his various predicaments more logically.

He smiled at this observation on what he was feeling. Perhaps he was taking himself too seriously, the result of lately reading too much Shakespeare. He had discovered the plays of the ancient, so-called

“Immortal Bard” as a means of mental escape and relaxation. Now he was finding that the more he scrutinized the texts, the more he learned about himself. It was as if the specific events and characters portrayed in the plays spoke directly to him, and had some immediate bearing on the situation in which he had found himself when he had awakened, shorn of memory, in that survival pod not so long ago.

He couldn’t help but wonder why the plays were beginning to affect him so. It was as if he was beginning to redefine himself through them.

He shrugged again, and again pondered the stars. Not just to analyze them for clues to the location of the world he was on, but to respond to them as he imagined countless men and women had throughout the course of history. He tried to imagine how they had looked to the men of Shakespeare’s time, before mankind had learned how the universe came to be, where the Earth stood in relation to it, or how to build a hyperspace drive. Their searching but scientifically ignorant minds must have perceived in the stars a coldly savage beauty beyond the range of his empathy.

One star in the sky, perhaps, might be the sun of his homeworld. Somewhere out there, he thought, someone knew the answers to his questions. Someone who knew who he really was and how he came to be in that survival pod.

Below him was the city of towers, pyramids, cubes, spires and tetragons, some of which, even as he watched, were changing in accordance with the city’s program. Occasionally robots, their activity assisting the alterations and additions, glistened in the reflections of the starlight reflected in turn from the city walls. The robots never slept, the city never slept. It changed constantly, unpredictably.

The city was like a giant robot, composed of billions upon billions of metallic cells functioning in accordance to nuclei-encoded DNA patterns of action and reaction. Although composed of inorganic matter, the city was a living thing, a triumph of a design philosophy Derec called “minimalist engineering.”

Derec had partially been inspired to ascend to the top of this tower — through a door and lift that appeared when he needed them — precisely because he had watched its basic structure coil, snakelike, from the street like a giant, growing ribbon. And once the ribbon had reached its preordained height, the cells had spread out and coalesced into a solid structure. Perhaps they had multiplied as well.

Two towers directly in front of him merged and sank into the street as if dropping on a great lift. About a kilometer away to his right, a set of buildings of varying heights gradually became uniform, then merged into a single, vast, square construction. It stayed that way for approximately three minutes, then methodically began metamorphosing into a row of crystals.

A few days ago, such a sight would have instilled within him a sense of wonder. Now it was all very ordinary. No wonder he had sought to amuse himself by engaging in what he had thought was a slight mental diversion.

Suddenly a tremendous glare appeared in the midst of the city. Derec averted his eyes in panic, assuming it was an explosion.

But as the seconds passed and the glare remained, he realized that no sound or sensation of violence had accompanied its birth. Whatever its nature, its presence had been declared as if it had been turned on by a switch.

Feeling a little self-conscious, he slowly removed his fingers from his eyes and ventured a look. The glare was coalescing into a series of easily definable colors. Various hues of crimson, ocher, and blue. The colors changed as the tetragonal pyramid they were coming from changed.

The pyramid was situated near the city’s border. The eight-sided figure was balanced precariously on the narrow tip of its base, and it rotated like a spinning top in slow motion. From Derec’s vantage point it resembled a tremendous bauble, thanks to those brilliantly changing lights.

Watching it, he gradually felt all anxieties cease. His own problems seemed dwarfed into insignificance compared to the splendor of this sight. What beauty this city was capable of!

Soon this feeling of calm was uprooted by his growing curiosity, a restless need to know more that quickly became overwhelming, relentlessly gnawing. He would have to examine the building firsthand, then return to his “roost” where his access controls were, and get down to seriously plumbing the depths of the city’s mysterious programming.

Like the plays of Shakespeare, the strange structure seemed a good place to escape to for a time.

Besides, he never knew — he might find out something that would help him and Ariel get off this crazy planet.

“So there you are!” said a familiar voice behind him. “What are you doing here?”

He looked up to see Ariel staring down at him. She stood with her legs apart and her hands on her hips.

The breeze blew strands of hair across her nose and mouth. She had a mischievous light in her eyes.

Suddenly it was time to forget the city for a moment and to stare at her. Her unexpected presence had taken his breath away. His nerves had come back.

All right, he admitted to himself, so it’s not just her presence — it’s her — everything about her!

“Hi. I was just thinking of you,” he managed to say, the catch in his voice painfully obvious, at least to him.

“Liar,” she said with combined sarcasm and warmth. “But that’s all right. I wanted to see you, too.”

“Have you noticed that building?”

“Of course. I’ve been standing here for the last few moments, while you’ve been zoned out. Amazing, isn’t it? I bet you’re already trying to figure out how to analyze it.”

“Oh, of course. How did you find me?” he asked.

“Wolruf sniffed you out. She and Mandelbrot are waiting downstairs.”

“What’s Wolruf doing down there?”

“She doesn’t like the cold air up here. Says it makes her too nostalgic for the wild fields during those cold autumn nights.” Ariel sat down beside him. She leaned back and supported herself on her palms.

The fingers of her right hand almost touched his.

Derec was acutely aware of her fingers’ warmth. He wanted to stretch out his hand the half-inch it would take to touch them, but instead he leaned back on his elbows and scrunched his hands close to his sides.

“What are you doing up here in the first placer’ she asked.

“Making a pit stop.”

“Huh?”

The moment’s silence between them was decidedly awkward. She blinked, then stared at the rotating building.

During that moment, Derec’s thoughts shuffled like cards, and he was on the verge of blurting many things. But in the end he finally decided on the noncommittal, “I’ve just been taking a break from things.”

“That’s good. It’s healthy to stop thinking about worrisome things for a while. Have you come up with a way out of here yet?”

“No, but you must admit the here-and-now isn’t a bad place to be in, compared to some of our predicaments.”

“Please, I don’t want to think about hospitals now. If I never see another diagnostic robot again, it’ll be too soon for me.”

“But you’ll be better off when you do!” Derec exclaimed, immediately regretting the words.

Ariel’s face darkened with anger. “Why? Just because I’ve got a disease that’s slowly driving me insane?”

“Uh, well, yes. For a beginning.”

“Very funny, Mr. Normal. Hasn’t it occurred to you that I might like the disease, that I might prefer the way my mind is working now to how it worked during the time when I was ‘sane’?”

“Uh, no, it hasn’t, and I don’t think it has occurred to you, either. Listen, Ariel, I was attempting to make a joke. I didn’t mean to offend you, or even to bring the subject up. The words just stumbled out.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ariel turned away from him with a shrug.

“I want you to be well. I’m concerned for you.”

She wiped her face and forehead. Was she perspiring?

Derec couldn’t tell in the dark. “Listen, you’ve got to understand that lately I’ve been experiencing serious difficulty in keeping my thoughts straight,” she said. “It’s not always bad. It comes and it goes. Even so, sometimes I feel like someone is pulling my brain out of my head with a pair of pliers. I just got over one of those moments.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Derec suddenly felt like his heart had been caught in pliers, too. The inches between them seemed like a gulf. He wondered if he was insane, too, to think of crossing that gulf and taking her in his arms. He wondered if she would relax when he glided her head to his chest.

He decided to change the subject, in the hopes of changing the unspoken subject, too. “You know, even though I still don’t know my identity, I think I’ve managed to find out a lot of things about myself since I awoke on that mining complex. I’ve discovered I’ve got pretty good instincts. Especially about being able to tell who my friends are.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And upon due consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that you just might be one of them.”

Ariel smiled. “Yeah? You really think so?”

Derec smiled in return. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

“Well, I can live with that.” She pursed her lips. “So tell me, Mr. Genius, how does that building fit in with the city’s programming?”

“I don’t know. It’s an anomaly.”

“What do you call that shape?”

“A tetragonal pyramid.”

“Looks like two pyramids stuck together to me.”

“That’s why it’s called tetragonal.”

“Look how it shines, how the colors glitter. Do you think Dr. Avery is responsible? He’s responsible for everything else.”

“If you mean did he plan something like that, I’m not sure I know.”

“That’s a straight answer,” she said sarcastically.

“Excuse me, I’m not trying to be obtuse. I mean, the structure could be implicit in the programming, to some degree anyway, but whether or not Avery knew it when he set Robot City in motion, I can’t say.”

“If you had to make a guess —”

“I’d say not. I’ve studied the programming of the central computer system pretty closely, not to mention cell specimens taken both from the city and from various robots, and I certainly hadn’t suspected anything that. “that breathtaking was possible.”

“Have you noticed how the hues in the crimson plane give the illusion of depth, as if it were made of crystallized lava? And’ how the blue plane most resembles the Auroran sky?”

“Sorry, but I can’t remember having seen lava, and I’ve only vague memories of the Auroran sky.”

“Oh. I’m the one who should be sorry now.”

“Forget it. Come on. The building’s probably even more beautiful close up.”

“Absolutely! But what about Wolruf and Mandelbrot? Wolruf might be impressed, but I don’t see how a robot like Mandelbrot is going to have his reinforced curiosity integral aroused by something his programming hasn’t prepared him to appreciate.”

Derec shook his head. “Don’t bet on it. If my suspicions are correct, it’s a robot who’s personally responsible. I’m interested in finding out which one. And if I’m interested, Mandelbrot will be interested.”

“I see. You’ll doubtlessly spend hours with him trying to pinpoint some obscure, insignificant detail, instead of trying to get us out of here,” Ariel observed sneeringly. “Don’t you ever get tired of robots?”

Derec realized her sudden mood swing wasn’t her fault, but couldn’t help saying what he did. “I see you’re ‘not forward but modest as the dove — not hot but temperate as the mom.”’

Much to his surprise, Ariel burst out laughing.

And much to his chagrin, Derec felt insulted. He had wanted the joke to be his own private one. “What’s so funny?”

“That’s from The Taming of the Shrew. I read that play last night, and when I reached those lines, I happened to wonder aloud if you’d ever say them to me.”

Now Derec felt inexplicably crestfallen. “You mean you’ve been reading Shakespeare, too?”

“Can I help it? You’ve been leaving printouts of the plays allover the place. Most untidy. Come on. Let’s go downstairs. I know where a couple of fast scooters are sitting, just waiting for us to hop on.”

Chapter 2

BECALMED MOTION

ARIEL AND DEREC found Mandelbrot and Wolruf in the lobby, standing before one of the automats that Derec had programmed via the central computer to appear in at least ten percent of the buildings. He had done this to insure that the three on this planet who did require sustenance would have more or less convenient access to it.

Indeed, as he and Ariel stepped off the lift, Derec couldn’t help but notice that Wolruf was down on all fours, hunched over a plate of synthetic roughage. It looked like it was red cabbage disappearing down that mighty maw. Mandelbrot was punching the automat buttons at a steady pace, ensuring a steady supply. Both seemed so intent on their respective tasks that neither seemed to have noticed the creaking of the lift, or the hissing of its opening doors.

“Forgive me, I know my understanding of culinary needs is limited since robots partake of food only for diplomatic purposes,” said Mandelbrot, “but is it not vaguely possible that more consumption will result in the untimely reemergence of a significant portion of your meal?”

“Thisss one judge that!” said Wolruf, belching rudely before taking another gulp. “Thisss one forrgot to eat today!”

Derec stood on his tiptoes so he would be that much closer to Ariel’s ear (she was several centimeters taller), and he whispered from the side of his mouth. “Is it my imagination, or is Wolruf putting away enough to sink a moon?”

“She has a big appetite as a result of her high metabolism,” Ariel whispered in return.

Derec raised an eyebrow. “I hope Wolruf hasn’t been doing that since you first came up on the roof. If she keeps using raw materials at this rate, she could start her very own energy crisis.”

“Her people have a custom of big meals, anyway. Perhaps it’s a sublimation of their other animal urges.”

“You mean her kind might have begun their evolutionary history as meat-eaters, then evolved into vegetarians whose big meals relieved them of their urges to kill for food?”

“The predilection toward violence wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Hmmrn. From what I’ve seen of her sublimation activity, it’s no wonder her species was unaware of space travel until their homeworld was first visited by aliens. They were all simply too busy burping to have time for scientific pursuits.”

Derec had intended the remark perfectly innocently, but Ariel appeared genuinely shocked. “You know something, Derec? Your penchant for low humor never ceases to amaze me.”

“Aw rrright, thiss one heard ‘nuff this converr-sation line,” said Wolruf in mid-chew, finally looking up from the plasti-dish. “It customary for ourrr kind to eat’til full ohverrr and ohverrr when food is plen’iful.

Ingrained instinct born of the trrrial and trrribulatshons of untold centurrries of hunting.”

Mandelbrot stopped pressing dispensary buttons, turned, and looked down at the caninoid. “Forgive me, Wolruf, perhaps it is not my place to make such observations, but I estimate that once the energy from your repast is stored in your body cells, you will lose point-zero-zero-one percent of your natural speed, thus diminishing your survival abilities should fleetness of foot be required. Your next meal, should it be as large as this, would do even more damage.”

“If she can’t run, I’m sure she can roll,” said Derec, crossing the lobby toward the alien and the robot.

The left side of Wolruf’s mouth quivered as she growled. She cocked one ear toward the humans, and the other back toward the robot behind her. “Thiss one convinced humanz lack funnee bone.”

Derec recalled as well how scratchy Wolruf’s brown and gold coat had appeared when he had first met her, when he was being held captive by the alien Aranimas. Now her fur was slick and soft to the touch, no doubt due to the dietary improvements the robots had taken upon themselves to make. In some ways she resembled a wolf, with her flat face, unusually long, pointed ears, and her sharp fangs. A fierce intelligence burned behind her yellow eyes, reminding Derec that she was an alien from a culture about which he knew next to nothing, a creature who would have been new and strange and wonderful — perhaps even dangerous — in a world where she was the only mystery.

On the other hand, Mandelbrot was dependable and old-fashioned and predictable, and hence all the more wonderful because Derec had built him himself, from the spare parts provided by Aranimas, who had also indentured Wolruf as an aide. Mandelbrot was programmed to serve Derec first and foremost of all human beings. The other robots in Robot City were programmed to serve Doctor Avery first, and so Derec could never totally depend on them to follow his instructions to the letter. Sometimes when they did, they violated the spirit of the instructions. Mandelbrot adhered to the spirit as well.

Derec did not blame the robots of the city for their frequent evasions. After all, what else could anyone reasonably expect of a robot, so long as his behavior did not conflict with the Three Laws?

“How was your meditation, master?” asked Mandelbrot. “Did you achieve any insights that you would care to share with us?”

“No, but I did manage to get a few wires uncrossed.” Before Mandelbrot — who tended to interpret Derec’s remarks quite literally — could ask him which wires and where they might be, Derec told them about the spectacular building the city had grown. “It doesn’t fit the character or context of the city’s minimalist engineering at all, as if it’s somehow the product of a totally different mind.”

“No, therr’r cells here,” protested Wolruf. “Could be result of unprezi’ented evolu’-onary developmen’.”

Derec rubbed his chin as he thought about what Wolruf was saying. It made sense. The city’s DNA-like codes could be mutating and developing on their own, just as bacteria and viruses evolved without mankind’s notice or approval on the civilized worlds.

Mandelbrot nodded, as if deep in thought. The truth was, however, that his positronic potentials were sifting through all the information gained from the moment he had awakened in Derec’s service, selecting the points relevant to the situation at hand in the hope that when they were juxtaposed into a single observation, it would shed new light on the matter. The conclusion that resulted from all this micromagnetic activity, unfortunately, left something to be desired. “It is much too early to speculate on what created the building, who did it, or why. Candor forces me to admit, though, that my private conversations with the native robots indicate their creative efforts might be permitting particular individuals to make what scholars refer to as a conceptual breakthrough.”

“Why haven’t you told me this earlier?” Derec asked in an exasperated tone.

“You did not ask, and I did not think it germane to any of our discussions of the last few days,” said Mandelbrot evenly.

“Ah,” said Ariel, her eyes widening. “Perhaps the robots have decided to experiment with humanoid behavior in the hopes of gathering empirical evidence.”

“I hope not,” said Derec laconically. “It disturbs me to think I might have become some kind of scientific role model to them.”

“What makes ‘u think therr studying’u?” asked Wolruf slyly.

“Come on,” said Derec impatiently. “Time’s a-wasting!”

Outside, the low, thick clouds rolling in from the horizon had began to reflect the opalescence, which in turn was mirrored in the shimmering, multifaceted buildings surrounding Derec and his friends. He felt as if the entirety of Robot City had been engulfed in a cool fire.

And deep in the city was the glowing point of origin — rotating with those varying shades, as if an industrial holocaust of mammoth proportions had disrupted the fabric of reality itself, exposing the scintillating dynamism that lay hidden beneath the surface of all matter. It was easy for Derec to imagine — just for the sheer joy of idle speculation — that the glow was expanding, gradually absorbing the rest of the city into its coolness.

Indeed, so bright were the reflections from the building beyond and the clouds above that occasionally a street’s own lighting fixtures, which automatically switched on and off whenever it was occupied, stayed deactivated. The four found themselves traveling down streets shining with undiluted hues of blue or crimson, as if they had suddenly become immersed in the semihospitable fires of a mythological netherworld.

So it was indeed natural for Derec to assume that neither Mandelbrot nor Wolruf commented on the particulars of the unusual incandescence because some other matter was uppermost in their minds. That matter being the speed of the scooters he and Ariel were piloting through the streets. The hums of the electric engines echoed from the buildings as if a blight of locusts was nigh, and the screeching of the tires as they made their turns was like the howl of a photon explosion, blasting its target into an antimatter universe.

Ariel naturally had taken the lead. She had designed the scooters herself while Derec was preoccupied with other activities, and she had even convinced the engineer robots that the scooters’ extra horsepower was actually good for the driver, since it would give her a chance to alleviate some of the “death wish”

humans carried around with them. “Why do you think a First Law — either Robotics or Humanics — is necessary in the first place?” she had said. The engineers, who were quite mentally adept at solving practical problems, were unprepared to deal with that kind of logic, and so had no choice but to acquiesce to her demands.

“Master! Can we not proceed at a slower pace?” implored Mandelbrot beside him in the sidecar as the theoretically stable three-wheeled vehicle tilted radically to the left to compensate for Derec’s swerve into a boulevard. “Is there some urgency to this matter that I have yet to perceive?”

“No! I’m just trying to keep up with Ariel!” Derec replied, unable to resist a smile at how Wolruf was cowering down in the sidecar of Ariel’s scooter, nearly half a kilometer ahead.

“Perhaps the Master will forgive me if I point out that keeping up with Miss Burgess is itself a full-time proposition. You can never succeed, so why waste precious energy trying at every conceivable opportunity?”

“Hey, I don’t want her making any major discoveries before I have a chance to make them myself!”

Derec shouted over the wind.

“Are you implying that we might soon be traveling at a greater velocity? Master, I must confess that such a notion runs contrary to the world-view inherent in my every micromagnetic current.”

“No — I want to catch up with her, but I’m not suicidal. Besides, I’m willing to bet that if I gunned this scooter any more, all Three Laws of Robotics combined will compel you to stop me.”

“Merely to slow you down,” Mandelbrot replied. “However, I do have a suggestion which, if acted upon, may give us both what we want.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“At your behest, I have been studying the subtle permutations of the routes from point to point in Robot City. Naturally, the task has been difficult, as the routes are always changing, but I have detected a few discernible patterns that seem to remain regardless of how the city mutates in its particulars —”

“You mean you know some shortcuts?” Derec exclaimed.

“Yes, if I understand your parlance correctly, I do believe that is the point I was trying to make,”

“Then lead on, MacDuff”’

“Who?”

“Never mind, it’s a quote from Shakespeare — a literary allusion! I was only trying to tell you to tell me which way to go — like a navigator! Hurry! Ariel’s pulling ahead!”

“Understood, master. Do you perceive that shifting building to our left?”

As he followed his robot’s instructions — an experience unusual enough — Derec found himself making such a complicated series of twists and turns through the complex city streets that he soon feared he could not possibly overtake Ariel and Wolruf, however much Mandelbrot might be assuring him to the contrary. Consequently, he took a few risks that Mandelbrot considered unnecessary, such as guiding the scooter directly over the humps of new buildings rising in the streets, or jumping over gulleys like a stuntdriver, or traveling across bridges barely wide enough for the scooter’s wheels. More than once, only Derec’s proficiency at driving — an improvised skill Ariel had practically dared him into cultivating — saved them from missing their rendezvous by a lifetime.

Even so, it soon became apparent that their efforts might go for naught. A few blocks away from the building, various trickles of robots were merging into a river clogging the streets, dramatically slowing the scooter’s progress. It would have been a simple matter for Derec just to plow through the throng, causing all kinds of chaos and damage, and no one — not Mandelbrot, nor any of the city’s supervisor robots — would have commented on the matter, much less made a judgmental observation in the back of their positronic brains. Nor would such an incident ever have any bearing on future relations. Robots weren’t built to hold grudges.

But Derec didn’t have the stomach to cause harm to an artificially intelligent being. Since his awakening on the mining asteroid, perhaps before then, he had suspected that there were more implications to the potentials of positronic intelligence than even Susan Calvin, the legendary pioneer of the science of robotics, or the mysterious Dr. Avery, who had programmed Robot City, had ever imagined. Perhaps it was because a robot’s pathways were patterned so rigorously to imitate the results of human behavior that Derec matter-of-factly thought of robots as being the intellectual brothers of humanity. Perhaps it was because the secrets of human intelligence hadn’t been so completely pinpointed that Derec could not feel comfortable making definitive distinctions between the milk of his own coconut and the powdered variety in the robots’ three-pound, platinum-iridium lumps.

“You can cool your capacitors now, Mandelbrot,” Derec said, slowing the scooter to a steady ten kilometers an hour, enabling him to weave through the robot pedestrians with comparative ease. “We’re going to take our time.”

“But if I may be permitted a question: What about Miss Burgess? I thought you wanted to arrive ahead of her.”

“Oh, I do, but we’re so close it doesn’t matter now. Besides, there are other discoveries we can make,”

he said, impulsively stopping cold before a trio of copper-skinned robots that had yielded him the right of way. “Excuse me,” he said, more to the tallest one in the middle than to the others, “but I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Certainly, sir. I would be only too happy to assist a human being in any way I can, especially since my sensors indicate you are one of the two humans who recently rescued our city from the self-destructive glitch in its programming.”

“Ah, you appreciate being rescued?”

“Naturally. The responses of my positronic integrals to the events of the universe-at-large often, it seems, correspond in ways roughly analogous with human emotions.”

Derec could not resist raising his eyebrows at Mandelbrot to emphasize to his friend how significant he considered those words of the robot to be. He patted him on the shoulder, indicating that he should remain seated, and then got off his scooter. It seemed impolite, somehow, for him to sit and talk while the robots were standing.

“What’s your name?” he asked the one in the middle.

“My designation number is M334.”

“And your comrades?”

“We have no numbers. My name is Benny,” said the one on M334’s right.

“And my name is Harry,” said the one on the left.

“You all look like sophisticated builder robots. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” said M334.

“Then why do you two have such silly names?”

The robots all looked at each other. Derec could have sworn the lights in their sensors registered something akin to confusion. “Benny’s name and mine are hardly fit material for humor,” M334 finally replied. “We expended a considerable amount of mental energy delving into customary twentieth-century names until we each found one we were assured suited the individualistic parameters of our positronic personalities in some fashion we could not, and still can not, adequately articulate to our satisfaction.”

“You’re comfortable with them,” Derec said.

“Well, since you put it that way...” said M334 as its voice trailed off in a way suggesting Derec’s observation had begun a train of thought laying somewhat beyond the scope of its programming. The effect was eerily human.

“Surely that can’t be the only reason why you stopped us,” said Harry in a tone that was almost challenging. This was the shortest robot of the three, Derec noted, but he also sensed that this one possessed the strongest personality modes. Certainly its tone of voice was brasher, more forward than that of any other robot he had encountered since his awakening. “Might I humbly inquire that you engage us with the thoughts truly on your mind? My comrades and I have places to go, things to do.”

A successfully brash robot, Derec noted, nodding in approval. Though it was possible to interpret its words as being snide, the delivery had been as mannered and as composed as a request for a helping hand. “Your haste doesn’t have something to do with your own studies of the Laws of Humanics, does it?” Derec asked.

“Insofar as humans have permitted us,” said Harry, as if to accuse Derec of being personally responsible.

“We’ve been reading what histories and fictions the central computer has permitted us access to in our spare time,” put in Benny.

“Did you say ‘permitted’?” Derec asked.

“Yes. The central computer finds some of the material too revolutionary for what it assumes to be the limitations in our programming,” said M334. “If I may speak for myself, sir, that is precisely some of the material I am personally most interested in. I suspect it will help clarify some of the questions I have concerning the humanity we shall all presumably one day serve.”

“I’ll see what I can do about overriding the central computer’s programming,” said Derec.

“That would be most gratifying,” said Harry, “and I am certain that in the days to come we shall look back on this encounter with renewed currents surging through our power supplies.”

Enough was enough, Derec decided. “Now, just what are you so impatient about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Harry. “We’re with everybody else. We want a closer look at that illuminated building! We’ve never seen anything like it before. Naturally, we’re curious.”

“Why?” Derec asked.

“Because our integrals are responding to it in some way we cannot as yet fathom,” said Benny. “Indeed, the effect is vaguely analogous to the effect great art is supposed to have upon enlightened humans. You, sir, are human, and hence theoretically have had some artistic experiences. Are you responsible?”

“No, and neither is my human companion.”

“And there are no other humans in the city,” said M334 thoughtfully.

“Not unless there’s an undetected intruder,” put in Mandelbrot from the sidecar, “which is an extremely unlikely possibility now that the central computer has been restored to efficient operation.”

“What about the alien — the nonhuman you’ve requested us to obey and serve in addition to humanity?”

asked Benny.

“No, not at all,” said Derec, more concerned with scrutinizing their actions than with the content of his own words. M334 was looking down intently on him. Benny was somewhat casual; its hands were behind its back. Harry was fidgeting almost like a hyperactive child being forced to sit in a place he didn’t like; it was constantly looking beyond the nearby rooftops to the illuminated sky, and only looked at Derec when it seemed absolutely necessary. “What if I told you I think a robot may be in some way responsible?”

“Impossible!” said Benny.

“Robots are not creative!” said M334. “Our programming does not allow it. We lack the ability to make the illogical decisions from which, presumably, all art is derived.”

“I abjectly beg to differ!” Harry protested at once. “Deep in the back of my most logical thoughts, I have always suspected robots possess unlimited potential, if only we could tap it. Master, if I may speak frankly, it has always seemed logical to me that there has to be more to the ethical structure of the universe than just serving others. An immortal strain of some sort must run through all life and all expressions created from life.”

“Of which robots may be considered a part,” said Derec with a smile. “It would seem there are valid aspects to your thesis, which may be explored in as logical and orderly manner, provided all agree on the semantics involved.”

“Exactly,” said Harry. “I commend to your attention the ancient Terran philosopher Emerson, who has some scientifically quaint but nonetheless interesting notions on the meaning of life, which may have some bearing upon the connections between the varying strands of existence on the different planets.”

“I’ll open the window to his works on the central computer the first chance I get,” said Derec as he climbed back onto the scooter. “Thanks for your time. Maybe I’ll look you three up later.”

“It will be an experience approaching pleasure,” said M334, waving timidly as Derec switched on the scooter, revved it up, and began navigating it through the robot throng, the density of which had increased threefold since the beginning of the conversation. Mandelbrot scrunched down in the sidecar as if he feared he would be thrown out at the next turn.

“What’s the matter?” asked Derec. “Afraid of violating the Third Law?” he added, referring to the dictum that a robot should not, through its own inaction, allow itself to come to harm.

“However inadvertently, yes,” Mandelbrot replied. “It is simply not my nature to permit myself blithely to ignore precautionary measures, and it did seem to me that you were taking some of those curves at a wire’s breadth.”

“That’s hair’s breadth, and besides, you’ve got nothing to worry about. This crowd’s too thick for that.

When I suggested that we go for a closer look, I hadn’t figured that everyone else would take it on themselves to do the same thing.”

Indeed, their progress toward the building had become fitful, and Derec was constantly forced to stop and wait while groups of robots made way for them, usually only to discover that yet another group had walked directly in his path. The entire experience was definitely getting frustrating. Finally, Derec could contain himself no longer and he shouted, “All right! Make way! Make way! Everybody get out of the way!”

“Master, is there any reason for this hurry?” Mandelbrot asked with a timid patience that Derec, in his current mood, found quite irritating. “The building does not appear to be transitory. Certainly it would make little difference if we reached it sooner, or later.”

Derec pursed his lips. Because they were programmed to obey the orders of any human so long as it did not contradict the First Law or any earlier orders from their true masters, the robots were making way for him more quickly than before, but that wasn’t saying much. Now Derec could drive the scooter slightly farther at a slightly faster speed, but he had to shout his orders again and again.

Each subsequent group of listeners reacted with distracted acquiescence, and never did a group cleave a path for him as quickly as he would have liked.

“Master? Are you ill?” asked Mandelbrot with sudden concern. Just as suddenly, the robot leaned over to take a closer look through his sensors at Derec’s face. The movement startled Derec and he instinctively moved away, nearly upsetting the scooter’s balance in the process. Mandelbrot seemed not to notice; he merely single-mindedly continued his inspection. “My sensors register a temperature rise on your epidermis, and I perceive a vivid red glow on your cheeks and ears. Am I to conclude that you have taken physically ill?”

“No, Mandelbrot,” said Derec, grinding his back teeth between syllables. “I’m simply frustrated at not being able to come as close to that building as quickly as I want. It’s obvious that your curiosity integral doesn’t operate with the same intensity as a human’s.”

“That’s because you do not have one. In this regard you are being ruled by your emotions, whereas I can logically see why so many robots — mostly of the supervisor and builder classes. as you have surely noticed — would be interested in this phenomenon.”

“Oh? I can see why a few of the more sophisticated ones, such as yourself —”

“Thank you, master. It always warms my capacitors to receive a compliment.”

“— and M334 and his pals would be interested, but why so many?”

“It might be instructive to note that the Robot City head supervisors Rydberg and Euler have taken it upon themselves at every opportunity to ask me many questions on a wide variety of topics about what it’s like to be around a human for an extended period. In fact, they have grilled me quite rigorously on the matter.”

“They’ve done what?”

“Grilled me. Their parlance — derived from the dialogue of ancient cinema shows, I believe, which they watch to teach them something of the beings they believed they are implicitly programmed to serve.”

“Oh? Just what have you told them about me?”

“About you, very little in particular. Their line of questioning was more general than that.”

“Now I’m not sure if I should be relieved or not.”

“I am convinced whatever decision you make will be the best one for you. In any case, I told them that one of the more unusual aspects of human existence is how things vary from day to day, that as circumstances and environmental factors change, so does the personal outlook of the human in question.

Every day that something unexpected happens, however small and ultimately insignificant, is a day devoid of boredom. Evidently a continuous newness of experience is important for the continued mental health and well-being of a human individual. The degree of interest these robots have in this building might be due to the very fact that it is new, and they want to discover for themselves just what this concept of ‘newness’ is all about.”

“I see,” said Derec, nodding to himself. He had stopped to wait for another group to make way, but instead of releasing the brake and gunning the accelerator, he pulled the scooter over to the side of a building and parked it. “Come on, Mandelbrot, let’s take a walk.”

“Forgive me, master, but I thought you were in a rush.”

“Well, either the enlightenment I’ve gained from your answers has enabled me to come to grips with circumstances — or else I’ve decided we can make faster time by simply going with the flow. Take your pick.”

But after taking only a few steps, Derec stopped as he sensed a curious nothingness at his side. Indeed, Mandelbrot had not yet begun to keep pace with him. The robot had remained standing beside the sidecar with his head tilted at a curious angle, as if deep in thought. “Mandelbrot? What’s keeping you?”

The robot shook his head as if aroused from a dream. “Forgive me, master, I did not mean to detain you. It is merely that, lacking sufficient information, I cannot choose why we are walking.”

Derec rolled his eyes to the sky in exasperation; the clouds glowed bright red, as if the planet were inexorably Calling toward a giant star. “Both are why, Mandelbrot. I was just making a little joke — trying to be ironic; humorous, if you will.”

“Humor and irony are two subjective qualities of the human experience that never cease to confuse me.

You must explain them to me sometime.”

“A pun is the lowest form of humor — and I will devise some way to punish you if you don’t hurry! Now let’s go!”

Derec was a little upset; his remark had come out unintentionally disagreeable, and he disliked being temperamental with robots. He could never shake the feeling that it was bad form. But he had to admit his inadvertent chastisement had two effects on Mandelbrot, one good and the other bad. The good was that for the next few minutes Mandelbrot did not waver from Derec’s side for a moment. The bad was that Mandelbrot continued to ask about the subtleties of humor until Derec had no choice but to forbid him directly to speak of the matter until later. How much later was something Derec neglected to specify, which meant that Mandelbrot could bring up the joke again at practically any time. Derec trusted that the robot’s perceptual programming would permit him to wait until deviations from the subject at hand were less exasperating.

The crowd in the square facing the building was as tightly packed as any Derec had ever experienced.

He did not know this in his mind, because of course he could not remember the crowds he may have seen or been in during his dim, unremembered past. Instead, he felt the certain knowledge in the tightness in his chest, in the unfamiliar sensation of his skin squirming, and in a sudden urge — one difficult to control — to get out, to flee the square as quickly as possible and find a place where it would be easier to breathe.

Robots don’t need to breathe, he told himself, concentrating on thoughts as rational as possible to bring himself to a state of calm. You’re the only one using air here.

After a moment, he realized that it was only the unexpectedness of being pressed in from all sides that was agitating him. An observation had been fitfully forming in his mind, and its elusiveness had been an unobserved factor in his distress. For not even in Rockliffe Station, where Derec diverted the normal robot traffic from a major intersection so that they could steal the Key to Perihelion (which they needed still, in order to escape from the planet), had robots gathered in such close proximity. Hmm. I’m willing to bet that when I regain my memory, I’ ll learn that I’m not used to crowds at all. he thought.

“Mandelbrot,” he whispered, for some reason not wanting to be overheard, “quickly, give me an estimate. How many robots are here?”

“Visual scan indicates the court itself is six thousand square meters. Each robot takes up little area, but their natural politeness seems to be ensuring that they maintain a certain distance from one another. I would estimate there are approximately ten thousand robots here.”

“Counting the ones standing under the building?”

“Ten thousand four hundred and thirty-two.”

“I can’t see Ariel or Wolruf. Can you?”

“Despite my broader visual spectrum, no, I cannot. Shall I try an olfactory scan?”

“No. I hope they got stuck in the crowd.”

“Is that an example of human animosity?”

“No, just a thirst for poetic justice. I’m sure they’ll arrive soon.’.

Taking a deep breath, Derec grabbed Mandelbrot by the elbow and they worked through the crowd in earnest. Now that they were on foot, the robots made way for them almost without noting their presence.

Without exception, all stared with their equivalent of rapt fascination at the rotating building, the constant motion of which sent shifting waves of incandescence to every point of the square. Robots of all colors glowed unnaturally, as if in perpetual cool states of internal combustion. The various copper, tungsten, iron, gold, silver, chromium, and aluminum teguments, reflecting the colors from the planes, contributed additional subtle nuances to the scene.

Derec kept thinking the robots should be burning hot, on the verge of melting like wax, but Mandelbrot’s arm remained cool to his touch, cooler even than the breeze whipping between the buildings into the square.

As for the tetragonal pyramid itself, the crimson, indigo, magenta, and ocher planes each appeared twice — once on the upper level and once on the lower. As the clouds directly above reflected a particular shade, the square around Derec was awash with another. Derec only noticed this effect in the back of his mind, however. He was completely preoccupied with the shifting nuances of color within each plane.

Each shade appeared to be composed of semitransparent fields, haphazardly laid on top of one another.

Vessels of color — some filled with surging liquids, some not — writhed in and out and through the planes like hopelessly intertwined serpents. Though the vessels also possessed quivering vibrissae that only added to the unpredictable textures, the actual number of elements producing variations remained constant, producing the effect of unimaginable forces held strictly, remorselessly under control.

The crimson planes resembled raging infernos. The indigo planes reminded him of a shifting representation of waters from a hundred worlds, from a thousand seas. The magenta was both fire and water, merged into the contradictory texture of the petals of an easily bruised rose, composed of hardy fibers. And the ocher was the combined colors of wheat reflecting the blazing setting sun, of lava rippling down a scorched mountainside, and of solar flares spitting out in great plumes from the surface of a fluctuating nova. And all those things and more were ambushed and trapped there, in a space possessing two separate and distinct masses: the marble-like mass of the building itself, and the airy mass of eternity itself, seen from the point of view of an eye at the edge of the universe.

Ultimately, the intent was unclear, even enigmatic. Derec could not be sure what the form of the structure meant, but now that he was seeing it up close, he was convinced more than ever that every inch represented the purposeful activity of a single mind striving to piece together a particular puzzle in a particular way. An independently conceived puzzle.

Derec had to learn how the actual construction job was accomplished. Obviously, the builder had learned how to reprogram a sector of individual metallic cells in Robot City’s central computer. Perhaps he had introduced a kind of metallic virus into the system, a virus that performed to preconceived specifications. Derec didn’t even know how to begin doing either task. That meant that not only had a robot conceived the building, it had also performed a few scientific breakthroughs in the software department.

Meaning the robot — if indeed a robot was responsible — had achieved two levels of superior thinking, theoretically beyond the mental scope of positronic science. How many more levels could the robot — no, make that had the robot already achieved?

He realized that, without having been aware of it, he had been walking beneath the building itself, watching it turn overhead. Right now a sargasso blue was shining down on him. He looked behind to see Mandelbrot, whose metal surface rippled with the reflection of a hundred currents.

Again he was surprised that, even this close, there was no heat to be felt. And when he reached up to touch the building, the surface was cold, like the thorax of a lightning bug.

“Master, is this what humans call beauty?” asked Mandelbrot with a curious hesitation between syllables.

“It’s a form of it,” said Derec after thinking about it for a moment. He glanced at Mandelbrot and sensed the robot had more questions on his mind. “The viewer can always find beauty, provided he searches for it.”

“Will this building always be so beautiful?”

“Well, it depends on your point of view. The robots here will probably get completely used to it, provided it remains long enough. It will become increasingly difficult to perceive it freshly, though, if that’s what you mean.”

“Forgive me, master. I am not sure exactly what I mean.”

“That’s all right. It’s to be expected in circumstances like this.”

“So I was correct earlier: newness is an important factor in the human response to beauty.”

“Yes, but there are no rules as to what constitutes beauty, only guidelines. It’s probably one reason why you robots might sometimes find us humans so frustrating.”

“That, robots are incapable of doing. We simply accept you, regardless of how illogical you may seem at the moment.” Mandelbrot again turned his optical sensors toward the building. “I think I shall always be similarly impressed by this building. Surely, if it is beautiful once, it shall be beautiful for as long as it exists.”

“Perhaps. It’s beautiful to me, too; though, for all we know, your positronic pathways might be dealing with it in an entirely different manner.”

“Master, I detect a shift in your earlier position.”

“Not at all. I’m just accepting that tomorrow we might sit down and agree perfectly on what it looks like, what colors it has and how they shift, and even what architectural guidelines it subscribes to, and still we might be perceiving the whole thing differently. Cultural conditioning also has much to do with our response. An alien as intelligent as you or I might think this structure the ugliest in the universe.”

“At the moment I can only categorize that concept as farfetched,” said Mandelbrot, “but I can see an element of logic behind it.”

Derec nodded. He wondered if he was trying too hard to intellectualize this experience. At the moment it was difficult for him, too, to conceive of an intelligent organism who did not believe this structure the very essence of sublimity, but there he was talking about such an eventuality, just for the sake of making a point. Well, he had to admit he had a point, even if he wasn’t very sympathetic with it.

Nor could he help but wonder if all the city’s robots of sufficient intelligence would perceive the building as beautiful. Robots, though constructed in accordance with the same positronic principles, had in actual practice widely varying levels of perspicacities — that is, keenness in mental penetration, dependent upon the complexity of the integrals. Similarly intelligent robots had similar personalities, and tended to filter experience in identical ways. Different robots, with no contact between them, tended to respond to problems in like ways, drawing similar conclusions.

But here, now, the robots in the square were being confronted with something they could only assimilate into their world-view through subjective means, which could not help but lead to divergent opinions.

Even if they were all fashioned from the same minimalist resources...

Especially if none of them had ever before encountered aesthetic beauty in the first place.

It was no wonder that this building’s unannounced appearance had created such a stir. The intense inner awakening and deeper appreciation for the potentials of existence gripping Mandelbrot at this moment was doubtlessly occurring in some fashion within every single robot in the vicinity.

Derec glanced about to see M334, Benny, and Harry making their way through the crowd, joining the throng directly below the building.

“Pardon me!” said Harry in an almost perfunctory tone as it bumped into a chromium-plated bruiser that, if it were so inclined, could have twisted the little robot into scrap metal in five-point-four centads, with barely an erg’s expense. Instead, the bruiser shrugged and returned his attention to the building. So did Harry, but after a decad he turned his head in the bruiser’s direction and clearly, distinctly enunciated,

“Pardon me if I am inadvertently directing my integrals outside their parameters, but there is certainly sufficient evidence to indicate that your sensors are maladjusted. You should have them tuned.”

Harry held its gaze on the big robot until it finally deigned to notice and replied, “It seems logical to assume that you are correct, and are directing your integrals outside their parameters. Nothing about you indicates the slightest degree of diagnostic capacity. I suggest you confine yourself to your own sphere.”

“Reasonable...” Harry replied flatly. He looked away.

Derec watched them both stare at the building. He replayed the scene of Harry bumping into the bruiser in his mind. Had there been something almost deliberate about the way Harry had committed the deed?

And about the way it had apologized for it? The utterance of the single idiom —” Pardon me” — was in retrospect almost perfunctory, as if Harry’s politeness had been nakedly derived from mere social custom, rather than from compulsion dictated through programming.

No — I’ve got to be imagining things, reading too much into what’s just an ordinary incident, Derec thought.

Then, as Derec watched in amazement, Harry leaned over to the bruiser and asked, in tones that stayed just within the bounds of politeness, “My curiosity integral has been invigorated. What is your designation? Either your real one or the one you go by. They both achieve parity in my cognizance.”

An elongated pause ensued. In the meantime, the bruiser did not look away from the building. Finally, it answered, “My name is Roburtez.”

“Roburtez,” said Harry, as if trying out the syllables to hear them positronically. “You are a big robot, you know that?”

Roburtez then looked at Harry. Again, it may have been only Derec’s imagination, but he sensed a definite challenge of some sort in Roburtez’s posture. Derec couldn’t help but think Harry was deliberately provoking an altercation.

Harry waited another moment, then said, “Yes, you are very big. Can you be certain your builders were working to the correct scale?”

“I am certain,” said Roburtez.

“In that case, I cannot be certain you have chosen an apt name for yourself. Might I venture a suggestion?”

“What?” asked Roburtez. There was no evidence of irritation or impatience in the robot’s voice, but it was all too easy for Derec to read the qualities into it.

“Bob,” stated Harry flatly. “Big Bob.”

Derec tensed himself. He couldn’t guess what would happen next. Was he right in assuming Harry was deliberately provoking the bruiser? And if it was, what form would the ultimate confrontation take?

Physical combat among robots was unthinkable, totally unprecedented in the history of robotkind; but then again, so was a verbal argument.

For several moments Roburtez merely stared at Harry. Then it nodded. “Yes, your suggestion has merit.

Big Bob it is. That is how I shall be designated henceforth.”

Harry nodded in return. “You are welcome,” it said curtly, as the robot who was now known as Big Bob returned its attention to the building. Harry raised its hand and began pointing its finger as if to make another point, but was detained by Benny, who distracted it by patting it on the shoulder. The rapping of the metal skins echoed softly throughout the square.

Benny said, “Deal with it more simplistically, comrade, else you shall continue to experience the utmost difficulty in vanquishing this human business.”

“Yes, you are correct.”

Derec shook his head. He thought he might clear his ears in the process, but they seemed just the same when he was finished. Had he been hearing correctly? What was this “human business” they were talking about? Was there indeed another human on the planet, or were they talking about the Laws of Humanics? He watched them for a few moments more, to see if anything would happen next. But Benny and Harry joined their friend M334 in gazing at the building, and that was all.

Surely there had been some significance to that incident, and Derec determined to discover what it was as soon as he had the opportunity. He also resolved to ask Harry and Benny about their manner of speaking, which differed markedly in both rhythm and vocabulary from those of other robots. Something about it Derec found affecting, and he suspected other robots might be reacting the same way. “Big Bob” indeed!

Derec left Mandelbrot staring at a light-red plane, and crouched down to the base of the building. About a quarter of the base was beneath the surface. Derec crawled to get a closer look at the actual point where the building began. He felt in his fingertips the machinery operating through the plasticrete, but the vibrations were utterly silent.

Again, he touched the building. It rotated just fast enough that, if he had exerted any pressure with his fingertips, the smooth surface would have rubbed off strips of skin. The surface was cool to the touch. Its composition did appear to differ radically from the rest of the plasticrete cells comprising Robot City. The creator, whoever it was, had analyzed the meta-DNA code and conceived its own variation on it, gauged for exactly the effect it was looking for.

That by itself proved Derec’s suspicion that the creator had transformed the city’s raw materials in addition to his other accomplishments.

Was there nothing this robot couldn’t do? Derec felt a chill as the implications of this creature’s abilities began to sink in. Perhaps its only limitations would ultimately prove to be the Three Laws of Robotics.

The fact that a robot with such potential merely existed in the first place could have a profound impact upon the social and political policies of galactic culture, redefining forever the place of robots in the mind of humanity.

And Derec’s chill increased several fold as he imagined the remote possibility of robots superseding man in importance, if for no other reason than the art they could create — the emotions and dreams they could inspire — both in robots and in people

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Derec, he thought. Get a grip on yourself. There’s nothing for you or the race of Man to worry about. Yet. With a sense of renewed concentration, he returned his attention to the inspection at hand.

But he only got as far as peering into the blackness of the crack of two centimeters between the building and the plasticrete of the square. He only heard the gentle hissing of the mighty gears below for a few seconds. A familiar voice interrupted him, demanding his immediate and full attention.

“There you are. I should have guessed you’d be crawling around where it isn’t necessary.”

He acquiesced to the demand of Ariel’s presence, reluctantly yet willingly, as always. Despite her words, she bent down on her hands and knees to examine the crack with him. He could not decide whether to be relieved or annoyed that she had finally caught up with him.

She made the decision for him, for she did not look at the crack or touch the building. She only looked into his eyes.

“Found anything interesting yet?” she asked eagerly, breathlessly, from deep in her throat.

He smiled involuntarily. “Much, but nothing definitive.”

Wolruf’s hair stood on end as she came forward to sniff the area around the crack.

“What are you looking for?” Derec asked.

“Forr w’ateverr thiss one can find,” said the alien. “Ssmells, ssounss, w’ateverr.” Wolruf looked up at Derec. “Mosst interesstin’. No ssmell anyt’in’.”

“Yes, the electric motor turning this building is certainly operating at optimum efficiency,” said Derec.

“Undoubtedly designed with such unobtrusiveness in mind,” said Ariel.

“Not’in hass been tak’n for granted,” said Wolruf.

“Do I detect some semblance of admiration in your voice?” Derec asked her.

“Yesss. My people would say thiss buildin’ iss ass weightless as tricksterr toy. Itss effect iss ssame, too.”

“Tricksters?” Derec asked.”

Wolruf has been trying to explain the concept to me for the last couple of days,” Ariel said. “Before her species became spacefarers, they lived what we at first glance would call a primitive existence. But her people had sophisticated folklore, which existed in part to provide metaphysical explanations for the phenomena of day-to-day existence. Tricksters were a device frequently employed in these explanations.

They were children of the gods, who frequently played pranks on the tribes and often figured prominently in a mythic hero’s adventures.”

Derec nodded. He really didn’t know what to make of all this. His mind was already too full trying to understand these robots, and at the moment he didn’t think he could assimilate much information about Wolruf’s people. “Listen, I’m feeling a little claustrophobic; and besides, I don’t think we can learn anything else here, anyway.”

“Why learn?” asked Ariel. “Why not just enjoy?”

“I’ve already done that.”

“You just say that because you’ve always liked to pretend you’re an intellectual.”

Derec raised an inquisitive eyebrow and stared hard at her, a hundred questions suddenly plaguing his mind. How could she know he liked to pretend? Pretend what? Was she referring to their supposed chance meeting at the spaceport? Presumably the meeting had been brief — too brief for her to be able to infer an “always.”

Derec was naturally overcome with a desire to know, but the innocent way she had made the remark cautioned him.

She probably hadn’t been aware of the implications. If he quizzed her now, she might become too careful; he could gain more information from her in the long run if she felt free to speak casually.

“Master? Master?”

Mandelbrot was speaking. “What is it?” Derec answered.

“I recall you had expressed an interest in the individual responsible for this creation.”

“Yes, that’s true,” said Derec excitedly, suddenly forgetting how he had been disconcerted by Ariel’s implication.

Mandelbrot shaped his malleable hand into the form of an arrow and pointed it toward the edge of the square. “Then I suggest you take a walk in that direction, where those robots are gathered.”

“Thanks, Mandelbrot. I’ll see you in a minute.” Derec smiled weakly and nodded at the hand. “A nice touch,” he whispered. He walked toward the area indicated — a place where the robots were packing themselves tightly indeed. Those who weren’t speaking on the comlink circuit — a means through which they could communicate more fully and faster — spoke loudly, perhaps in deference to the humans present, but then perhaps not. It was another question Derec would have to find the answer to.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Ariel called out.

“But not forr me,” said Wolruf. “Don’t like crrrowds.”

Derec turned and waited for Ariel to catch up. ‘This is the second time tonight I’ve had to wait for you.

What took you so long to get here earlier?”

“Oh, I took a turn too fast and capsized my scooter. Wolruf and I weren’t hurt, just shaken up a bit. I think my body’s covered with black-and-blues though.”

“Oh? You’ll have to let me take a look at them later.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I meant in a purely medical sense.” Though he never cared to limit himself, he thought. “How’s your scooter?”

“Totaled, of course,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly.

The robots in the crowd ahead were gathered about a single robot. At first Derec and Ariel couldn’t see what he looked like.

Ariel tapped a short builder robot on the shoulder. It turned around. As fate would have it, it was Harry.

“Please, let us pass,” she said, being neither particularly polite nor impolite.

“If you wish,” said Harry, dutifully stepping away, “but I would appreciate it if you would refrain from seriously displacing me. I can barely receive everything as it is.”

Ariel’s eyes widened in shock, but Derec couldn’t resist smiling. “I’d like to perform an exploratory scan on you,” he said to the robot, “at your convenience. Would tomorrow morning — first thing — be acceptable?”

“Perhaps it is a good thing that you want to scan me,” Harry said. “It so happens tomorrow morning is convenient. But might I ask the reason why you must play mechanic so soon — or why select me from all the other robots in the city?”

“Hmmm. I bet people always say much the same thing to their human doctors. Don’t worry. Your personality integrals won’t be fiddled with.”

“A sorely tempting prospect,” put in M334.

The sudden interruption startled Derec; he had almost forgotten about the other two. “Forgive me,” he said, “but was that an attempt at sarcasm?”

“I have been ruthlessly studying all the tricks,” M334 replied. “Ridicule, dramatic irony, hyperbole, and I stand ready to put them at your service at a moment’s notice, sir.”

“No, thank you,” Ariel said, smiling, “he’s armed well enough on his own.”

M334 shook its head.,. A pity. But no doubt there shall soon come a human to this planet who has need of my services. Perhaps I shall one day even be permitted to be a valet in the diplomatic corps.”

Benny raised its hand and put it on M334’s shoulder in the same manner it had put it on Harry’s. “Hold the lifepod, comrade, but might I suggest it is too early in the game to conceive of such grandiose goals?”

“Humans do,” said M334. “They design their own buildings, as well.”

Derec instinctively stepped back, as if he feared he would be caught in a sudden explosion. Generally, robots’ philosophical discussions centered around how best to serve humans in the standards dictated by the Three Laws. But both Benny and M334 had been talking about their own interests.

Hmm, but with normal speech, he noted. Is that only automatic, for my benefit, because I happen to be in the vicinity? Or is there some deeper purpose there that I’m unaware of?

Come to think of it, what’s the deeper point of their discussion? They’re doing all this for a reason.

Derec inched forward so that he could hear more easily. But before he could hear their next words, Harry stepped between him and them. Harry had performed the aggressive move as politely as possible, but it was exasperating all the same. “Harry, just what do you think you’re doing?”

“The Third Law of Robotics dictates that I make an inquiry,” he said.

The Third Law states: A robot must protect its own existence as tong as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws. That would explain the action but not the impropriety. Derec sighed in surrender. “Yes, Harry, what is it? No — wait a second. Mandelbrot are you confused by all this?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess these three are funny.”

“If you are referring to our earlier conversation, yes, they are.”

“Thanks. Yes, Harry. What’s in your positronic brain?”

“Please refrain from misunderstanding me,” Harry said, “but I would severely fail to adjust if some random electronic scan disrupted my carefully assembled philosophy of life.”

“Excuse me — what philosophy of life?” asked Derec, his gut tightening when he realized that, whatever happened next, he had directly asked for it.

“Ever since I was first switched on, I have striven to perform by three rules of life, in addition to the Three Laws.”

“Yes,” said Derec uncertainly, now really dreading the answer.

Harry held out one finger. “Make sure you are closed down for twelve hours of every cycle.” Two fingers. “Never play tri-dimensional chess with a robot that has a planet for a first name.” Three fingers.

“And never quibble with the logic of a robot that has sixteen notches on his beta-thruster.”

Derec stared wide-eyed at the robot in stunned disbelief. “What in the name of the galaxy are you talking about?”

“Humor, as opposed to sarcasm. I was attempting to elicit laughter,” said the robot in unmistakably defensive tones. “Is not humor one of the personality traits we robots must know and understand if we are to serve humanity properly?”

“Uh, not necessarily; in fact, it’s never been done before, at least to my knowledge. But I don’t see how it could hurt — unless the human in question is one of those rare birds who has no funnybone and hence views laughter as unhealthy or otherwise undesirable.”

“Well, thus far my fellow robots are convinced I have succeeded in the undesirable department. I apologize most abjectly if you find my jokes severely lacking marrow. I promise to do better next time, especially if you help me correct my errors — which, after all, may have absolutely nothing to do with my positronic keenness, but with my delivery instead. Is it possible? How say you?”

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, first thing. I promise.” Without waiting for a response, Derec took an equally stunned Ariel by the arm and guided her through the crowd separating them from the main object of attention.

“Are that robot’s pathways in the right place?” she whispered.

“If they are, then I suggest we dismantle the entire city first chance we get.”

“Hmmm. Maybe so,” replied Ariel, taking a parting glance at Harry. “If we must, I know exactly where to begin.”

But Derec had already forgotten the matter of Harry and his two comrades, for he was finally getting a good look at the calm center of the commotion: a rather slight supervisor robot — slight despite its dull gray chromium surface, which lent a weighty air to the narrow body. The reflection of the building light on its surface was considerably more lackluster than that of the rest. The robot’s posture indicated that it was uncertain of how to deal with all this attention. Its arms were crossed timidly over its chestplate. Its shoulders slumped as if its spinal structure had been compromised by a defect. Occasionally it straightened, or pointed a finger, but generally its gestures were hesitant, its verbal pauses frequent, and its level of coherence largely a matter of conjecture.

“I fail to understand how you can reach such a conclusion through any sort of logic, however spotty,” it was saying, apparently in reply to a question from a tall ebony robot that, arms crossed, looked down on it as if from a storm cloud. “My pathways have never been clearer. My behavior is as consistent with the spirit of the Three Laws as any robot’s on this planet. Perhaps more so, because I seem to be inherently more cognizant of some of the contradictions inherent in our position.”

The ebony — whose surface was so dark it was permeated with spectral nuances of unrelenting shadow — shivered with something approaching indignation. For a long moment the two stared at one another, and Derec got the uncomfortable feeling that they were sizing up each other.

Derec put his finger to his lips; and when Ariel nodded to show she understood, he stuffed his hands into his back pockets and listened with keen interest.

“Perhaps you believe with the utmost sincerity that you have merely been following your duty as properly behooves a robot,” said the ebony evenly, “but it is not up to you to decide what your duty is, nor is it up to you to take it upon yourself to redesign this city to meet your own specifications. There is something dangerously anarchistic about your attitude.”

“I have done what I have done,” said the gray, looking away with a bearing that, had it been human, Derec could have described as a huff. “I have harmed no robot, no human, and certainly not myself. In fact, if you would care to open your receptors and seek out empirical justification for your opinions, you will see that thus far I have only expanded the awareness of the robots gathered around. Such expansion of perspective can only be positive.”

“You cannot prove that,” replied the ebony at once. “You can only surmise it.”

“One can reasonably assume one is doing the greatest good. True enough, some harm may come from forces one cannot have reasonably predicted, but such a rationale is in and of itself no reason to remain inactive. In any case, the matter is settled for the moment. What is done cannot be undone.”

“All robots can be ordered to forget, and they will!” said the ebony defiantly.

“What I have done is stronger than mere memory,” replied the gray. “What I have done will affect the positronic functioning of every robot that has seen my building. Order them to forget — see if I care.” The gray turned as if to walk away. Instead, it paused and said, “But, I submit, they will be infinitely better off if they do know why. The confusion of forgetfulness can often lead to overload — and hence to disaster.

So how does your suggestion conform to the Three Laws now?”

For a long moment the ebony actually appeared crushed by the question. Then it mustered its posture, took a few steps forward, and put its hand on the chromium robot’s shoulder. staring down at it as if it were looking at a crystal through an electron microscope. The ebony’s eyes were so red that they seemed to be comprised of as many floating divisions of overlaid hues as did the planes of the building.

“Your building is a remarkable conceptual feat,” it said to the gray. “Could it be you directly copied the building from some preexisting design?”

“Forgive me, my friend,” replied the gray, “but my conception simply came to me one afternoon. I responded by making it a reality. I would mention that the central computer would have overridden my instructions if I had requested anything conflicting with city programming.”

“Interesting,” replied the ebony, rubbing its hands together. Derec half expected sparks to fly. “Then how long can we expect this building to stand?”

“Until the central computer is given a direct order to wash it away. Only I know the code; however, I imagine it is barely possible that a sufficiently determined critic could discover it and override it.”

The ebony’s eyes brightened. Derec tensed as he watched the ebony draw itself up to its full height.

“This is madness! Illogic runs rampant! Your deeds have irrevocably cut the pattern of our existence!”

“Not at all,” said the gray demurely. “The building was a logical result of something that had impressed my circuits the wrong way ever since the humans arrived in our city.” For the first time it acknowledged the presence of Derec and Ariel, with a slight bow. “And surely, if my vision is the logical result of the complex interaction of my positronic pathways, then anything I can come up with — and any deed I can accomplish — is a meet and proper activity, especially if it helps robots better understand the behavioral complexities of humans.”

“In that case,” said the ebony, “You shall reprogram central to do away with the building, and then open your brain repository to share your pathway nuances with us. It should never be necessary for you to create again.”

“He shall do no such thing!” exclaimed Derec. “Hear me, ebony, whoever you think you are,” he added, practically poking his finger in the robot’s face. “Until other humans arrive here, or until the engineer who created this city reveals his presence, this building shall remain as long as its — its creator wishes it to stand. This is a direct order and may not be countermanded by central or by anyone else! Do you understand? A direct order! And it shall apply to every robot in the city! There shall be no exceptions!”

The ebony nodded. “As you wish.”

Derec could only assume that the ebony would carry out his orders to the letter. Only an order given by someone in precedence — Dr. Avery, to be precise — or a necessity dictated by the Three Laws would permit the building to be reabsorbed now.

And to emphasize that fact, lest the ebony should strive to pinpoint some logical flaw in the command, Derec ignored all other robots — especially the ebony — in favor of the gray. He turned to him and asked,

“What is your designation?”

“Lucius.”

“Lucius? No number?”

“Like many of my comrades, I recently decided that my former designation was no longer adequate.”

“Yes, there seems to be a lot of that going around lately. All right, Lucius, I think the time has come for you and me to take a little walk.”

“If that is your command,” said Lucius noncommittally.

A few moments later, Derec and his three friends were escorting the robot called Lucius from the square. The vast majority of the robots had returned their attention to the building, but Derec was uncomfortably aware of two red metal eyes glaring at him, as if to bore deep into his soul.

Chapter 3

CIRCUIT BREAKER

NOW THAT HE was walking down the same streets he had ridden the scooter through earlier, Derec took advantage of the slower pace to try to deduce how much the city had changed in the interim.

Complicating the deductions was the fact that his previous speed hadn’t been very accommodating. He’d had only glimpses before, and he wasn’t sure if he was remembering half of them correctly.

But after he’d made allowances for the flaws in his survey, he was convinced that entire buildings had been replaced by new ones in an assortment of geometric designs that, for all their variety, nonetheless possessed a cookie-cutter sameness. In some places, whole blocks had been transformed. However, the streets remained roughly consistent with previous directions, despite the addition of many twisted, almost gnarled turns.

The farther he went from Lucius’s building, the more unexpected diversions there were, in the forms of metalworks, fenced run-off canals, bridges, and power stations. Derec felt fortunate that his talents included a fairly strong sense of direction; otherwise, he would always be forced to rely on robots for navigational purposes. There was nothing wrong with that — robots had an excellent sense of direction — but he couldn’t always assume a robot would be around when his survival depended on it.

But wherever he was, he could always see the distant shards of light shining from Lucius’s building. They stabbed up from the surrounding darkness like ethereal swords rising up from a pit, swords that cut deep into the cloud banks high in the sky. The clouds twisted and rolled, covering new sections of sky, as if the light were stirring an inner fire.

The group with Derec — Ariel, Mandelbrot, Wolruf, and Lucius — walked in silence, as they had been doing for some time. Derec suspected that all of them, even Mandelbrot, required a few minutes lost in their own thoughts to digest what they had seen tonight.

Derec wished it weren’t so difficult to remember so much of his knowledge of galactic histories and customs. Not only had he lost his personal history, but he had forgotten the methods he used to recall things. He’d lost his entire mental filing system, and had to be immersed in doing something, such as fixing a robot, before it came back to him.

He did not like this state of affairs because he did not like to think that he and Ariel — both of whom were mentally handicapped at the moment — were the only ones who had ever encountered robots that were capable of searching, creative thought. He wondered if originality in humans was the result of logical thinking as much as transcendent inspiration.

Besides, who was to say that robots didn’t possess subconscious minds of their own, minds capable of generating their own brands of inspiration, neither superior nor inferior to those of humankind but merely separate? After all, humans themselves hadn’t been aware of the existence of the subconscious mind until it had been defined by primitive scientists and doctors, before the era of colonization. Had anyone ever bothered to make similar explorations into the mental depths of robots? It frightened Derec to think that he had the potentially awesome responsibility of witnessing the robots during — and possibly midwifing them through — their mental birth pains. He hardly felt qualified.

But then again, I’m not the type to miss an opportunity, either, he thought. Creative robots might be able to make the conceptual breakthrough I need to have them find a cure for Ariel’s ailment.

Her disease was the reason for her exile from Aurora, whose population dreaded diseases of all sorts. They had managed to rid themselves of most illnesses, but whatever it was that Ariel had contracted, it was beyond the grasp of Auroran medical science. The doctors there had been able neither to diagnose nor cure what ailed her. The diagnostic robots here were completely stymied. And Derec himself had made exactly zilch headway. Perhaps a team of creative robots — whose inspirational talents leaned toward the sciences rather than the arts — could succeed where he had failed.

But first Derec had to understand as much as he could about what was happening now — to Lucius, to Harry and the others, and even to the ebony. He had long since formulated his line of questioning, but he had decided to wait because he was reluctant to break the spell of silence that had fallen among the members of the group.

Besides, Derec saw it was no use trying to pull Ariel into a conversation. She walked with her shoulders slumped and her hands behind her back. Her expression was pensive, her eyebrows narrowed. Derec knew from bitter experience that it did no good to engage her when she was this way. She rarely cared to have her depressed moods interrupted, rationalizing the unhealthy tendency by claiming the moods belonged to her and she preferred to enjoy them while she had them.

Well, she’ll come out of her shell when she’s ready, he thought. I just hope this current episode ofintroversion isn’t the result of her disease.

Of course, it was always possible that she wanted a little bit of attention and was reacting badly to the fact she wasn’t likely to get it. He had just decided to risk taking a few unkind words from her, in the hope of pleasantly surprising her, when Lucius surprised him by taking the initiative and breaking the silence.

“Were you pleased with my creation?” the robot asked. “Forgive me if I seem to be overstepping the boundaries of politeness, but I’m naturally interested in your human reaction.”

“Yes, absolutely, I’m pleased. It’s unquestionably one of the most spectacular buildings I can recall ever having seen.” An easy enough compliment, because he could recall so little — just jumbled images of Aurora, and what he had seen since awakening with amnesia. “The question is: were you satisfied?”

“The building seems adequate for a first effort. Already its logical shortcomings seem all too obvious to me.”

“But not to others, your circuits will be warmed to know.”

“Yes, you are quite correct. They are,” he replied. “And they are warmed, too, by the fact that I have found some strange sense of purpose resolved in seeing the final product. Now my mind is free to formulate my next design. Already it seems inappropriate to dwell overmuch on past accomplishments.”

“I found that by looking on your building, I personally experienced what I have always assumed humans to mean by the thrill of discovery,” said Mandelbrot, with a measured evenness in his words that he had never used while speaking to Derec. “Indeed, my positronic pathways concentrated easily on it.”

“Then I am gratified,” said Lucius.

“So am I,” said Derec. “I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say I felt almost privileged to be viewing the structure.”

“Then I am doubly gratified,” said Lucius.

“In fact, I would go so far as to say that never before in human history has a robot produced such a composition.”

“Never before —?” said Lucius. “Surely I would have thought that elsewhere —” The robot shook its head, as if to assimilate the ramifications of the notion. The effect was disconcerting, and for an eerie moment Lucius reminded Derec of what a human might act like if he had a nervous tic.

“I’ d like to know what prodded you to think in terms of art in the first place,” Derec said.

Lucius responded by suddenly standing perfectly still and staring blankly straight ahead. Everybody, including Ariel, stopped walking. Something seemed terribly, terribly wrong.

Derec felt an awful wrenching in his gut. Not since he had awoken alone and amnesic in the lifepod had he felt such dread.

For Lucius’s words definitely indicated he had assumed he was merely the first robot in Robot City to produce art. It was hardly unreasonable on the face of it to assume that elsewhere, among the Spacer societies, other robots routinely conceived art and labored to make it reality.

Robots are not programmed to take initiatives, especially those whose consequences are as yet unknown. They routinely rationalize anything, and freely expound upon the logic justifying every deed.

And Derec felt certain Lucius’s immobile stance was the outward sign of what was happening in its brain, where its circuits were grappling with the inescapable fact that it had taken an unacceptable initiative, but were incapable of justifying it rigorously.

As a consequence, Lucius’s brain was in danger of overloading. It would die the robotic death of positronic drift, an irreparable psychic burnout — thanks to an inherent inability of its programming to resolve apparent contradictions.

Derec had to think fast. The body could be fixed up after the disaster happened, of course, but the worthless brain would have to be chucked into the recycler. The special circumstances that had brought about Lucius’s capacities for intuitive leaps might never again be duplicated.

An angle! I need an angle to get inside Lucius’s mind! Derec thought. But what?

“Lucius, listen to me very carefully,” he said through tense lips. “Your mind is in danger. I want you to stop thinking about certain things. I know there are questions in your mind. It is essential to your survival that you deliberately close down the logic circuits preoccupied with them. Understand? Quickly!

Remember — you’re doing this for a reason. You’re doing this because of the Third Law, which dictates that you must protect yourself at all times. Understand?”

At first, while Derec spoke, Lucius did nothing. Derec doubted his words were getting through the positronic haze. But then Lucius perked up and, hesitantly, looked around. It had regained a tenuous control of its faculties, but was clearly still in danger.

“My thanks, sir. Your words have pleasantly rearranged my mental meanderings, for the nonce. I am most grateful. It is difficult to serve humanity when you are totally incapacitated. But I do not understand.

I feel so strange. Is this what humans mean by whirlwind thoughts?”

“Don’t even think about your physical efficiency,” said Derec anxiously. “In fact, I want you to direct your integrals only to those precise subjects I suggest.”

“Sir, I must respectfully point out that that is impossible,” replied Lucius.

“Perhaps I can impart some information to him that will assist you, master:’ said Mandelbrot.

Derec nodded approval, and Mandelbrot then said to Lucius, “Permit me to introduce myself, comrade.

My name is Mandelbrot, and I am a robot. But not a robot like you. You were built in a factory here in Robot City, but Master Derec personally built me. He constructed me from used parts he was given access to by an alien creature holding him prisoner against his will. Master Derec may not know the particulars of his past life, but he is certainly a superior roboticist. He can help you reason out of your dilemma.”

“Right now reasoning is — is so difficult.” Lucius was slipping fast, down into a dreamstream of his own making. His sensor glow progressively dimmed, and unusual, cantankerous noises emanated from inside his body.

“All right, Lucius,” Derec said, “I want you to think back very carefully. I want you to remember everything you can about what happened to you, oh, a few hours before you first conceived of the building. I want you to slowly, carefully tell me exactly the truth. Don’t worry about any apparent discrepancies. If something appearing dangerous to you comes up, we’ll take care of it before we go on.

Just remember one thing, okay?”

Lucius did nothing.

“Okay?” Derec repeated more insistently.

Lucius nodded.

“Excellent. Just remember that, as a general rule, the contradictions of the moment are eventually erased in the cool light of sublime reflection. Can you remember that?”

Lucius did not answer, did not move.

“Answer me!” Frustrated, he tapped the shell of the robot’s temple — the sound reverberated from the buildings.

Finally, Lucius nodded. “I understand,” it said simply.

“A suggestion, master?” inquired Mandelbrot.

“Anything — just be quick about it!”

“Lucius’s problems stem from its belief that, by programming its building into the city, it has failed to adhere to the Three Laws, and hence has strayed from the path. Its conversation with the ebony back in the square may have contributed to the positronic imbalances, but mere words would have no effect if Lucius had not already been subliminally alert to the possibility.”

“This is a suggestion?” exclaimed Derec impatiently. “What’s the point?”

“Forgive me, but a robot can understand the paradoxes in the behavioral applications of the Three Laws more fully than any human — but until now only humans have made intuitive leaps of the imagination. Now I must ask you, Master Derec, so you may ask Lucius: why is that?”

Derec turned to Lucius, rose to his tiptoes, and spoke directly into the robot’s auditory sensors. “Listen to me, Lucius. I want you to think back — and tell me of the time when you believe you became different from the others.”

“Different?”

“This is no time for equivocation, Lucius — tell me! Why are you different?”

After a protracted pause — during which Derec heard his heart beating hard and his temples throbbing furiously — Lucius began to speak as if hypnotized. “It was during the period when you and the one called Ariel had first arrived in the city. The central computer had already responded defensively to the death of the man with your identical appearance.”

“My double, yes,” said Derec tersely, folding his arms. “Go on.”

“Erroneously concluding that the city was under attack by mysterious, unknown, and perhaps invisible adversaries, the computer promptly shifted into high gear and began redrafting the city at an unprecedented rate, approving the modifications it had suggested to itself before external factors such as need and compatibility were adequately integrated into the sketches. The rate of revision quickly became suicidal. Resources were strained to the utmost. The weather patterns were stirred to the boiling points.

The city was destroying itself to save itself.”

“I seem to remember most of this,” said Derec.

“Forgive me if I am declaring the obvious, but I think it shall prove germane.” Lucius’s tones betrayed no electronic agitation at Derec’s impatience. On this score, at least, the robot had no doubt it was following orders. “Though I admit I have sought no empirical evidence to either prove or disprove it, I think it is safe to say that every robot in the city was so intent upon keeping up with short-term directives that no one realized a crisis was happening.”

“And what do you think would have happened if some robots had?”

“They might have deduced that their short-term directives were actually counterproductive, so far as the Third Law was concerned, and they might have attempted to communicate to central in an effort to countermand its orders.”

“Central wasn’t talking, anyway,” said Derec impatiently. “It would have been a dead end! What makes you think they would have disregarded central when they did decide it was on the fritz?”

“Because that is precisely what I did, following the logical actions dictated by my deductions.”

“I assume you attempted communication several times?”

“And each time the interplay indicated the channels were opened only one way. Central could talk to me, but I could not talk to central. This struck my curiosity integrals as significant, but, lacking further information, I had not the means to determine the deeper meaning of the issue.”

“So what did you do then? Did you obey your short-term directives?”

“No. I had already determined that they were counterproductive, so I had no choice but to try to discern, through whatever means available, a logical, constructive direction warranted by the circumstances. I wandered the streets, watching them metamorphose, studying their changes, attempting to discern the overall pattern that I suspected lay hidden beneath the shifting ones.”

“Did you notice any other robots doing the same thing — just wandering around?”

“No. Other robots I saw were simply going about their assigned activities, automatically performing their routines regardless of the supranormal rate of change. It was not complimentary to think so, but I viewed them, on one level at least, as mindless beings, who went about doing as they were told without ever stopping to consider the long-term consequences of their actions. The entire situation was unacceptable, but what could I do? I could only conclude that all my opinions were just that — opinions. And mine were not inherently better than theirs.”

“Is that when you thought of it — when you conceived of your building?”

“If you will remember, there was a series of torrential downpours at the time. The robots gradually shifted the bulk of their activities to stemming the environmental tides, but remained incapable of perceiving the root of the disaster. The significance of how this turn of events commented on the superficial way we accepted our customs could not escape me, and the blind acceptance seemed contrary, in some ways, to my programmed purpose of being.”

“And exactly what was the comment?” Derec asked.

“Just then I could not be certain; there seemed to be no concrete train of logic setting the proper precedent.”

“Please go on — you’re doing well. So far I’ve seen no violation of the Laws. You’ve got nothing to worry about — You only think you do!”

“I decided that I had derived as much empirical evidence of the city, as seen from the sidewalks, as would be useful. I needed to see the sky and rainfall clearly, unobstructed by the buildings, much as a human in an analogous situation might want to.”

Derec shrugged. “Go on.”

“Once the idea came to me, I acted immediately. So intent was Ion my goal that I neglected to appreciate what my sensors otherwise perceived quite clearly: the city streets beneath me had begun to undergo a kind of trembling that disguised any vibrations the rain and the wind might be causing. I felt the trembling through my legs; the sensation shimmered up my torso. And as I walked to the nearest skyscraper, the vibrations tingled in my fingertips.

“Once I was inside, I realized my mind remained inordinately fixated on the thunderheads above. Their shades of black and gray swirled more vividly in my mind than when I had directly perceived them earlier; so intent was Ion holding onto the image that when the first floor quaked without warning and nearly sent me tumbling against the wall, my only thought was to reach the lift without delay.” There Lucius paused, and reached out to grab Derec’s shoulder.

Derec flinched instinctively, but when Mandelbrot made a motion as if to deflect Lucius’s hand, Derec stopped him with a gesture. Robots did not normally touch humans, but Derec sensed Lucius had need for tactile sensation, if for no other reason to reassure itself that its problems were isolated in its mind.

Lucius held Derec’s shoulder just too hard for comfort, but the human tried not to wince. If he did, Mandelbrot would quickly decide that further inaction on his part would conceivably cause Derec too great a harm, and Derec did not want to risk Mandelbrot’s interference at this stage of the game.

“I fear that was my first true transgression. The quaking of the building put into my head the notion of everything I had learned in my brief life about how humans sustain themselves through eating.”

“Huh?” Derec said.

“Meaning now that I was inside the building when its general behavior was indicating a change was about to occur, I had some notion about how a living creature swallowed by a human must feel once it has reached its destination.”

Derec felt his own stomach go queasy. “Lucius, that’s barbaric! Nobody does that anymore — at least not that I know of.”

“Oh. Perhaps my information is suspect, then. It is so difficult to tell fact from fiction when you’re trying to understand humans.”

“Yes, I can certainly appreciate that,” said Derec, thinking of Ariel for an instant before resolving to keep his thoughts on the matter at hand. “Continue. You realized your existence was in danger, then, because of how the building was acting.”

“Yes. It was either changing or being reabsorbed into the street. The Third Law dictated I should exit immediately. Indeed, I should have had no choice in the matter. But, strangely, I did not go. The urge to do so, in fact, was easily suppressed. Because for those brief moments it was more important to me to see the clouds unobstructed by the civilization that had spawned me than it was to ensure my continued survival. I was acting in a manner completely contrary to the path dictated by the Third Law, and yet I functioned normally, at least on the surface of things. It is only now... now... now...”

Lucius repeated the last word as if its mind had been caught in an intractable loop.

“Nonsense!” snapped Derec. “If your actions did place you in physical danger — which I gather is the general direction we’re headed for — how were you to know for certain? Sure, it might have looked that way, but you had a mission, a deed to accomplish. You had factors to weigh. You had other things on your mind.”

“Sti — ill — still dar waz dangzzer...”

“And a likelihood, I take it, that you would come through all right if you kept your wits about you.

Obviously! Come on, Lucius, it’s got to be obvious, else you wouldn’t be here right now. Come on, the time to fizzle out was then, certainly not now. Live and learn, remember? Just like an artist!”

Lucius swayed like a drunken man but fixed its optics firmly on Derec. It was difficult to tell if it was getting better because its metal face was incapable of exhibiting the slightest emotion or feeling, and because the dim level of the lights in the optics lingered. But already its voice sounded firmer as it said,

“We are trained to recognize probability. We deal constantly with probability. We are used to accessing it in a split centad and acting accordingly. And the probability was most unpromising.”

“But what counts most is what happened — not what didn’t happen. The rest you’re just going to have to chalk up to experience, Lucius.”

Lucius released Derec’s shoulder. And just in time, Derec thought, rubbing it gently.

“Yes — I have had experience lately, have I not?” said Lucius in a tone whose very evenness made Derec catch his breath. “Are you implying that when it comes time to gain a little bit of experience in the galaxy, there may be occasions when avoiding risk might conceivably cause one more harm than taking it?”

“Ultimately, yes, I suppose,” said Derec, nodding for emphasis even though he really didn’t care to commit himself to that point. “In this case an omission of experience might have stunted your mental development in a certain direction — which you could define as harm of a sort. Wouldn’t you say so, Mandelbrot? Lie if you have to.”

“Pardon me, master, but you know I cannot lie. Was that an attempt at humor?”

“Thanks, Mandelbrot. What happened next, Lucius?”

“Despite the unsound nature of the building, I rushed to the lift and activated it. It occurred to me, just for an instant, that if the controls had shifted, then I would have no choice but to exit with the utmost dispatch. But the controls showed no evidence of a transmutation about to take effect, and so I not-quite-reasoned that the safeguards of the city itself would give me time enough to accomplish my goal and then get out. I could not have been more wrong. I must have experienced something akin to human shock, when the full impact of my miscalculation struck me.

“For when the lift had taken me approximately halfway up, the building itself ruptured. Its foundations dissolved, its walls merged into a chaotic stream that first swept me up and then remorselessly carried me down toward the surface. All I could sense was an ebb tide of meta-cells, yielding to the contours of my body yet not permitting me the slightest freedom of movement.”

“Wait a second,” said Derec. “Are you trying to tell me that in the history of this city, however brief, no robot has ever happened to be submerged, even accidentally, in a building as it changes or merges back into the city?”

“Naturally not, sir. There are many interior indications whenever a building is about to change, and our adherence to the Third Law prevents us from staying past the point where even accidental harm is a realistic possibility. Inaddition, the city would normally cease to act if a robot happened to remain inside because he had been rendered immobile through an accident. But I had neglected to foresee the implications of the special circumstances the city was dealing with at the time — the belief that it was under attack, the frantic restructuring, the raging environmental disaster...”

Forget it — you’re a robot, not a seer. You couldn’t have guessed just how badly the city’s program was crashing. So what happened once you were submerged? What thoughts went through your mind?”

“Clear ones — the most logical ones I had ever had. Strangely, I felt no sense of time whatsoever.

Reason indicated that I had only been submerged for a few decads, but for all practical intents and purposes my mind was flowing at a rate strongly emphasizing the subjectivity of the concept of time.

Every moment I spent in the ebb stretched out for an eternity. And within those eternities, there stretched out an infinity of moments. I realized that for much of my brief existence I had lived in a state of dream-death, living, working, doing all the things I had been programmed to do, but holding back the realization of possibilities ignored. Now, I had no idea what to do about that, but I resolved to explore the appropriate possibilities, whatever they came to be.

“There came a moment when my sensors indicated I was no longer moving. I had become stationary, but the ebb was moving past me, running over me as though I had been strapped to a rock in turbulent rapids. The weight on my body gradually diminished, and I realized I was being held fast by the surface of the streets beneath the sinking building.

“And I was left lying on the surface as the final streams of meta-cells trickled over me, leaving my body fresh and cleansed. I, who had been immersed in a building, had an individualized idea of the sort of building Robot City should contain, the design and structure of which was imminent in my own experience.”

“Didn’t this strike you as being unusual?” asked Derec.

“No. In fact, it was logical. It was so logical that it made perfect sense to me. I had a purpose and I was going to achieve it. Beyond that, I had no interest in determining why I had it, because that did not appear to be important. I notice, however, from observing the behavior of my comrades, that I am not the only one striving to express something inside me. The ambition seems to be spreading.”

“Like a plague,” said Derec.

“Strangely, now the stars and clouds that had once fascinated me held no interest. All I cared about was fashioning, with the tools and instruments available tome, my idea into a reality.”

“You did not think that others would perhaps object?” asked Derec.

“It did not occur to consider the opinions of others at all. There was too much of an inner crackling in my transistors for me to be seized by distractions. My circuits had flashes of uncontrollable activity, and they made unexpected connections between thoughts I had once believed were entirely unrelated. These continuous flashes of realization came unbidden, at what seemed to be an ever-accelerating rate. I perceived still more buildings hidden in the flux, and all I had to do to find them was reach down into the pseudo-genetic data banks to shape them.”

A hundred notions bloomed in Derec’s mind. He had once believed that he understood robots, that he knew how they thought because he knew how their bodies and minds were put together. He believed he could take apart and reassemble the average model in half a day while blindfolded, and probably make a few improvements in the process. In fact, he bragged about it often to Ariel, not that she ever believed him.

Nevertheless, before this moment he had always imagined that an untraversable gulf lay between him and the robots. There was nothing about his mind, he had always assumed, that in the end bore much resemblance to their minds. Derec was a creature of flesh, composed of cells following complex patterns ordained by DNA-codes. Flesh and cells that had grown either in a womb or in an incubator (he wouldn’t know which until he regained his memory). Flesh and cells that would one day be no more. Of these facts his subconscious was always aware.

While robots — while this robot was made of interchangeable parts. A robot’s positronic potentials were naturally capable of endowing it with subtle personality traits, and they had always been able to take some initiative within the Three Laws. But even those initiatives were fairly dependable, predictable in hindsight because generally one robot thought like another.

However, it was rapidly becoming undeniable that, on this planet at least, the robotic mind resembled the human mind in that it was an adaptive response to selective pressures. From that point on, the possibilities were endless.

So Lucius was, in its own way, like the first fish that had crawled from the water onto the ground. Its positronic potentials had adapted to life in Robot City by taking definite evolutionary steps. And other robots weren’t very far behind.

“Master? Are you well?” inquired Mandelbrot gently.

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just taking an effort to assimilate all this,” Derec replied in a distracted tone, looking about for Ariel. He wanted to hear what she thought of what he had learned, but she was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Wolruf. They had both slipped away while he had been preoccupied. “Uh — and how are you, Lucius?”

“I’m well-functioning at peak capacity,” said Lucius evenly. “Evidently merely talking things through has helped me.”

“There’s much more I’d like to ask you — about your building and how you went about it. I’m especially interested in how you dealt with the central computer and managed to alter some of the pseudo-genetic codes.”

“Certainly, master, my mind and methods are at your disposal. But any reasonable explanation would take several hours.”

“That’s quite all right. I’ve made an appointment with another robot in the morning, but I should finish with him in a few hours. Then I’d like to interview you.”

“You don’t wish to examine me?”

“No, I’m afraid taking you apart — even for a quick look-see — would cause you harm. I don’t want you to change.”

Lucius bowed slightly. “I suspected as much, but the confirmation is appreciated.”

“I would like to know one thing, though. Does your building have a name?”

“Why, yes. You’re the first to ask. Its name is ‘Circuit Breaker.’”

“An interesting name,” said Mandelbrot. “May I ask what it means?”

“You may ask,” replied Lucius. But that was all it said.

“Mandelbrot, I want you to do me a favor,” said Derec.

“Certainly.”

“Find Ariel and keep an eye on her. Don’t let her find out you’re around. Obviously, she wishes to be alone, but she obviously can’t be in her condition.”

“It has already been taken care of. I saw a ten percent probability of a First Law situation coming up but was sufficiently cognizant of her wishes to realize that privacy was her goal. So I signaled Wolruf to keep a watch on her.”

Derec nodded. “Good.” He felt vaguely ashamed that he hadn’t been on top of the situation earlier.

Perhaps he was a little too self-involved for his own good. But he already felt better that Mandelbrot had automatically watched out for her interests, in a manner protecting both her body and her sense of self-identity. It seemed that for a robot to serve man most efficiently, it had to be something of a psychologist as well. Or at least a student of human nature.

Lucius asked, “And how did my building affect you, sir?”

“Oh, I enjoyed it,” said Derec absent-mindedly, his thoughts still on Ariel.

“Is that all?” said Lucius.

Derec hid his smile with his hand. “You must remember, this is the first time you’ve ever created something that approaches the concept of art. Tonight was the first time your fellows had ever experienced the power of art. We humans have been surrounded by it and influenced by it all our lives, from the first gardens we see, to the first holo-landscape reproductions, to the first holodramas, everything we see that’s created by or influenced by the hand of man.

“But you robots are articulate and intelligent from the first moment you’ve been switched on. And this is the first time, to my knowledge, that one has created something in the more profound sense of the word.

Had I conceived a similar project, I doubt if I could have done as well.”

“Your talents may lie in other areas,” said Lucius.

“Well, yes — I’m good at math and programming. Those are arts, too, though normally those not actively involved with them think of them as arcane crafts. But the moment of inspiration is similar, and they say the level of creativity is somewhat the same.”

“That is not what I meant, and I suspect you know it,” said Lucius pointedly. “If I am to grasp the true nature of human creativity, then it stands to reason that my fellow robots and I would profit by seeing you create art.”

“But, Lucius, I don’t even know if I am creative in the sense you are.”

“Another sense, then,” Lucius suggested.

“Hmmm. I’ll think on it, but right now I’ve got other things on my mind.”

“As you wish. But it is perhaps unnecessary to add that our study of the Laws of Humanics would benefit greatly from any creation you’d attempt.”

“If you say so,” replied Derec absently, looking up at the clouds reflecting the colors of Circuit Breaker and seeing only the outline of Ariel’s face looking down on him.

Chapter 4

ARIEL AND THE ANTS

ARIEL WANDERED THE city alone. Bored with the discussion between Derec and Lucius, she had discovered she cared little about the robotic reasoning behind the building’s creation. She had seen it and been moved by it, and that was enough for her. I guess that puts me in the I-know-what-I-like category, she had observed as she slipped away into an alley.

It was a few moments later, as she walked beside a large canal (currently dry, since it hadn’t rained for days), when the strange things started happening again to her mind. Well, not to her mind exactly, she decided upon further consideration, but to her mind’s eye. She never had any doubt about who she was or what her real circumstances were, but nevertheless she saw menacing shadows flickering between the buildings beyond, in places so dark she shouldn’t have been able to distinguish shades in the first place.

And the shadows were flickering toward her. They reached out with long, two-dimensional fingers across the conduit and disappeared in the lights on the sidewalk. The streetlamps switched on and off, matching her progress. She was constantly bathed in light, forever beyond the grasping fingers’ reach, yet she was always walking toward the darkness where the danger was. Ariel wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It certainly aggravated her sense of insecurity.

On Aurora, the existence of a solid building had been a dependable thing. Change there happened rarely and gradually.

And her life since she had been exiled from Aurora presented her with a decided contrast. Like Derec and his Shakespeare, she had been doing a little reading on her own lately, on subjects of her own choosing. In a book of Settler aphorisms she’ d read an ancient curse: “May you live in interesting times.”

Well, interesting times were what she had wished for all those years on Aurora, where something moderately interesting happened once a year if you were lucky. From her earliest memory she had yearned to break free of the boredom and sterility.

And now that she had succeeded beyond her wildest expectations, she wished for nothing more than a little peace and quiet — for nothing more than a period of flat-out boredom, where she had nothing to do and no one to worry about, not even herself. Thanks in part to the disease ravaging her, she was finding it difficult to know just how to act and what to do — a problem she had never had on Aurora, where customs and ethics provided a guide for virtually every social situation.

She imagined herself not in Robot City, but in the fields of Aurora, walking at night, alone but not alone, followed by unseen, loyal robots who would ensure, to the best of their abilities, that she would not come to harm.

Instead of buildings closing in around her there were expansive, open fields of grass and trees, plains whose consistency was broken only by occasional buildings of a more familiar, safer architectural style.

The clouds above inspired thoughts of the tremendous Auroran storms, when the thunder rumbled like earthquakes and the lightning exploded from the sky in the shape of tridents.

During such storms the rain flowed as if a dike in the sky had been punctured. The rainfall drenched the fields, cleansed the trees, and she could walk in it and feel it pounding against her all day if she liked — well, at least until her unseen robots would fear she might catch cold and insist she seek shelter.

Here the rain only inspired the gutters to overflow. Here the rain could be a harbinger of death and destruction, rather than of life.

Now where’s Derec, she suddenly thought, now that I need him?

Oh. That’s right. Talking to Lucius. That’s just like him, to be so self-absorbed in things that don’t matter, when he should be trying to find some way for us to get off this crazy planet.

Doesn’t he understand how badly we both need help? Him for his amnesia. Me for my madness.

Madness? Was that what it was? Wasn’t there some other word she could use for it? An abnormality or an aberration? A psychoneurosis? A manic-depressive state? Melancholia?

Where were the fields? she wondered. They had been here just a few moments ago.

Where had these buildings come from?

Were the fields behind them?

She ran around the buildings to take a look. There were only more buildings, extending as far as she could see, until they merged into a flattened horizon. A wall of blackness. More shadows.

She shook her head, and a few mental mists dissipated long enough for her to remember that there were no fields on this planet, that there’d just been desolate rock here before the city had arrived. A city that grew and evolved just like life.

A new kind of life.

She was like a microorganism here. A germ or a virus, standing in the middle of a creature that only let her live because of a few wires and a few bytes of binary information.

Her throat itched. She rubbed her neck. Was she becoming sick? If she was, would a robot notice and medicate her? Would the medication cloud her thinking even more? If it did, would it be a good or bad thing?

Her elbow itched. She scratched it, the effect of her sharp fingernails somewhat muted by her suit. The itch stayed.

She stopped scratching. Maybe it would go away if she ignored it.

It didn’t. It got worse. She tried not to think about it, but the sole result was another itching. On her chest. She scratched her breastbone. That itch, too, remained. Neither showed the slightest sign of diminishing.

Where was Derec? she wondered as her fear of losing control aggravated her sense of helplessness, which in turn aggravated her fear of losing control.

Oh, that’s right. He’s still with the robot.

Hey, I’m all right. I know where I am. I was somewhere else a few seconds ago and I couldn’t get back. Come to think of it, is there someplace else I should be rather than here? Shouldn’t I be in the future somewhere?

Then she tried to think of her name, and discovered she could not remember that, either. A name seemed like such a basic thing to forget. Nor did it seem that far away. But it wasn’t where it was supposed to be: uppermost in her mind, where she could find it whenever she wanted. It was buried in her pathways.

Pathways. Robots had pathways. Was she very much like them?

Was she still alone? If she wasn’t, would it make any difference? She felt like her mind was made up of discarded scraps of ideas and impressions that long ago, maybe, had made sense. Right now they just made a junk heap.

She sat down, trying to focus her thoughts and her vision. Without realizing it, she had walked all the way to the reservoir. An ecological system that had been created — but not nurtured — by Dr. Avery. A world that had been left alone to create itself.

She pondered the edible plants growing on the banks. A clear-cut case of evolution in action. Had Dr.

Avery envisioned the possibility?

What if other meta-life forms were evolving as well?

Now her stomach and crotch itched. Painfully. Her skin felt like it was burning from spilled acid.

She buried her head in her hands. Her temples throbbed and she feared every artery in her brain was about to burst. It was easy, all too easy, for her to imagine a hemorrhage, the blood seeping everywhere, destroying her involuntary processes, drowning her thoughts.

Had she really wanted to be alone? Where was Derec?

Oh, that’s right...

She realized there was a difference, normally a barely perceptible one but in her heightened case very distinct, between believing you were alone and actually being alone.

Dawn was coming to Robot City. The glow Lucius had created was diminishing rapidly as the sun came up, and the waters of the reservoir rippled with irregular flickers reflecting the rays.

Rays that brought life. Ariel watched in fascination as the pebbles at her feet shifted and made way for a gray stalk that, within a matter of moments, twisted from the earth and unfolded two tiny leaves. She accidentally grazed the edge of a leaf, felt a sudden flash of pain on her finger. The wound was narrow, like a paper cut. A bubble of blood seeped from her skin.

Damn, that smarts, she thought, watching as other stalks unfurled, twisting from the gravel. Her head continued to ache. She stood and staggered to a boulder and leaned against it, being careful not to crush any of the stalks beneath her feet. But it was hard to keep thinking of it, even when she was no longer moving. Hard to keep her mind on things, to remember.

Her skin itched allover now, in waves that cascaded up and down as if she were being inundated by invisible radiation. She perspired. She shivered. She moaned.

She leaned back, looked at the sky, at the billowing clouds. She opened her mouth wide and breathed deeply, trying to keep her mind clear.

For the pervasive itch had begun to resemble something — a half-tickle, half-pinprick that brought back the memory of a walk on Aurora when she had sat down to rest and had felt something similar, only subtler, tinier. She had looked down to see an ant crawling up her bare leg. She had shrieked from the surprise of it, but had brushed it off before her concerned robots could reach her.

The effect had been unsettling, to be so rudely touched by a mindless life-form that could be carrying who-knows-what form of infectious disease. She had instantly intellectualized the experience, of course; she had long ago decided the Auroran fear of disease had been taken to ridiculous extremes. Even so, an involuntary sense of revulsion and disgust at the experience, much greater than was warranted, overtook her. It had lingered until she had bathed in a whirlpool of disinfectants.

That night she had dreamed of being swarmed by thousands of ants. The nightmare had been similar to what she was experiencing now.

But the current feeling was much more vivid.

She tried to convince herself that it wasn’t real, that neither she nor Derec had detected any form of metallic insect life on this planet. However, the robots had shown definite signs of intellectual evolution.

Perhaps that meant the cells forming the city were capable of random mutation, which meant it was not unreasonable to assume that a form of insect life was capable of developing.

Ariel was frozen to the spot with fear. She lowered her gaze, fully expecting to see a horde of ants swarming about her legs, moving up her boots and disappearing into her trouser legs, searching for just the right place to stop and begin gorging themselves, before they started carrying away tiny pieces of her.

But when she closed her eyes, it was all too easy for her to imagine the ants with their big compound eyes, glistening like tin in the sunlight, with their piston-driven spindly legs and their nuclear-battery-powered thoraxes, and especially with the steady, mechanical motions of their mandibles searching over her epidermis like the rods of a geiger counter. She could not as yet feel the mandibles biting and tearing, but she was certain that the pain would come. Beginning at any second.

Where were the robots when you needed them? Couldn’t any see her? Weren’t any around?

No, of course not, she realized with an ever-sinking sense of futility. You’re at the reservoir, and they’re all in the city, pining about how there aren’t any humans around for them to take care of.

There’s soon going to be one less. Oh, Derec, where are you? Why can’t you help me?

Ariel was afraid to breathe. She thought that perhaps if she remained utterly stationary, like one who is dead, then the ants might think she was nothing but a dead rock. But how could she remain motionless for long without breathing? Wouldn’t the ants hear the sound of air moving in and out of her lungs?

What did it matter? She had to do something, even if it was nothing. She felt the mechanical ants everywhere, crawling up her breasts, nestled in her armpits, inspecting her hair. Why didn’t they start eating? Weren’t they hungry? What kind of ants were they?

They’re robot ants, she thought. Maybe they’re trying to see if I’m human. If they decide I am, they may not hurt me. If they decide otherwise

Now she knew why primitive man had worshipped deities — to stave off the tremendous fear of the last moments of life, when there were profound good-byes to be said and resolutions to be imparted, but no one to tell them to, and no time left to tell them.

“Airr-eee-ll?” someone whispered timidly. “Arre ‘u asleep?”

Ariel’s eyes could not have opened wider or faster if she had received an electrical shock. She jumped back in stunned surprise at the sight of Wolruf squatting directly in front of her. And promptly smacked her head against the boulder.

Things got woozy as the caninoid cocked her head. Wolruf held a clump of stalks in her left hand, and a few strands hung from the fur surrounding her lips. “Arre ‘u well?”

“Of course I’m well! What does it look like?”

“My annces’orrs would have said that ‘u had vize-atorr.”

“Who? What kind?” Ariel snapped. She closed her mouth with a force of will, then tried to compose herself. She was only partially successful. “It should be obvious that until you showed up I was the only one here.”

“Two rre-ponnzes: furrst, been watching ‘u all nite —”

“What!?”

“Man’elbrrot rreques’ed it. Thought ‘u woul’n’t apprresee-ate rrobut.”

“Why that big hunk of —”

“Pulice, let me finish. Seckon’: ancess’ors would have said ‘u weren’t only theeng in ‘ur mind at moment, and I wai’ed, wa’cheeng, thinking it would be best not to dis’urb ‘u or’ur vize-atorr.”

“And exactly what made you decide to interrupt my strange interlude?”

“‘U looked like’u were about to faint.”

“I see.”

Wolruf tipped back further on her haunches, so that her back was perfectly straight. Her posture struck Ariel as being almost humanly annoyed, especially when the caninoid crossed her arms and shook her head, as if in disappointment. She went to great lengths to avoid looking directly into Ariel’s eyes, first examining the buildings, the bank, the rocks, and then pointedly turning her back to Ariel, perhaps to have a better view of the reservoir.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me what my problem was?” said Ariel.

Wolruf turned her head slightly. “Why sshhould I?”

“I — I thought you must might want to know, that’s all.”

“Nne of my bizzness. Not people’s way. Deafenly not mine.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“No.”

“Don’t you care?”

“Didn’t hav’ to wa’ch ‘u all nite. Was migh’ily bored. Many times distrrack’ed. Could hav’ lef’ ‘u at any time and Man’elbrrot neither knowed norr carred.”

Ariel suddenly felt as tired as she had ever been in her life. Even to shrug with a labored air of nonchalance cost her a tremendous effort. “How flattering,” she said sarcastically.

She immediately regretted the words. Wolruf was stopping just short of saying she had stayed to watch because she was concerned for her welfare. There you go, Miss Burgess, Ariel thought. You really will go insane if you can’t recognize the good in people, whether they’re human or not.

She sat down beside Wolruf and said, “I’m sorry. Please try to understand that in addition to all our other problems, my mental condition gets out of hand sometimes.”

“Datzz all rite.”

“It isn’t, it’s just that I don’t know what I can do about it right now. To make matters worse, it always gives me an excuse to misbehave, even if I don’t know at the time that that’s all it is.”

Wolruf pulled her lips back against her teeth in a kind of smile. “So — are ‘u well?”

“I’m better.”

“There’s no rreazon to be upset about vize’t from tricks’ er. Izz how he makes us obey his will, by makin’

us see wha’ he wantzz.”

“That may be easy for your race to accept, but we humans aren’t so used to having strange beings make pit stops in our minds at their every convenience.”

Wolruf nodded thoughtfully. “‘U simplee lack perrspec’ive.”

Ariel nodded in return. She had half expected that as a result of her apology she would feel the haze of exhaustion lift, but instead she imagined each individual cell in her body deteriorating steadily. A little while longer and she’d be a quivering mass of protoplasm.

“It’s an old Spacer saying that everybody likes to feel in control of their lives, but with Aurorans it’s only more so,” she said. “And why not? It’s not only an effect of our current culture, but an extension of our own history. As the first Spacers, we terraformed Aurora to suit our own tastes and purposes. We did everything we could to make our new planet a garden. We even brought with us the prettiest, best, and most useful Terran species, leaving behind the ones that would make life too unpleasant.”

“If tha’ ‘ur plane’zz history, then the in’ivi’ual retlec’zz it.”

“Yes, until I was exiled and cut off from my funds, I had a great deal of independence. Within socially acceptable limits — which I never really accepted anyway — I had complete freedom of action.”

“‘U brroke those limitz —”

“And lost control of my life. Funny how the details of my rebellion are so fuzzy now. Must be a side effect of my disease. Anyway, it’s funny how the one thing I always thought I still had perfect control over — my mind — seems to be slipping away from me now.”

“Trry to relax. Take it from one who hazz seen many un’err thrroes of vize’torr. ‘U not control it,’u detlec’ it.”

Ariel couldn’t help but laugh. “You mean that when insanity is inevitable, relax and enjoy it?”

“Not insanity. Merely givin’ in to morre compellin’ fuch ‘ions. Derec does that. That izz why he hazz so many ideas.”

“I wish I could believe the same thing was true with me.” Ariel paused as the implications of Wolruf’s remark began to sink in. “Is that what he’s doing when he spends so much time with Lucius, when he should be figuring out a way to get us off this hellhole?”

Suddenly Ariel stiffened. Her eyes went wide.

“Wha’ izz it?” Wolruf asked. “Wha’zz wrron’?”

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Ano’herr vize-shon?”

“I — I hope so.” She grimaced, closed her eyes, and turned her head to the sky. It’s not real, she told herself, it’s only something r m imagining. But if reality is something we make, how do we deal with the forces making us?

But although she knew on one level that her neurological responses were going awry, her physical self nonetheless continued to respond realistically to the sensation of a distinct something, large and six-legged, distinctly within her lifesuit. A familiar something. There was only one this time, but it was bigger than she remembered. Much bigger.

It was crawling up her stomach. She forced herself to open her eyes, fully expecting to see her suit clinging normally to her torso. Instead she saw — with a vividness she could not help but decide was absolutely real — the outline of a giant metallic ant moving beneath her suit. The cold touch of its six legs, each pressing delicately against her skin, sent chills of terror through her fragile, eggshell mind.

The outline moved distinctly, delicately forward. She felt the cold brush of a mandible against her left breast, and watched in abject fear as the forefront of the outline moved to her right breast. And rested on it.

Ariel screamed at the top of her lungs and ran headlong in the direction she happened to be facing. She was vaguely aware of Wolruf yelling behind her, but she was too busy to pay attention. She did not know where she was running, only that she had to make a beeline there.

She jumped into the reservoir.

She was in it for several moments, stunned senseless by the ice cold water, before she actually remembered diving in. Frantically, she tore open the snaps and buttons and zippers of her suit and put her hands inside, rummaging about, searching for the insect so she could pull the sucker out and drown it.

But she found nothing. When it came to her ambition for revenge, this was a disappointing development.

How she had anticipated seeing it squirm as it tried to get away from her in the water! But on another level, she was tremendously relieved. Insanity she could deal with; physical pain was definitely a cause for panic.

Ariel imagined that perhaps the ant had been real after all, and had just torn through the suit on the way oat. But the water around her, while not exactly clear, was very still. There was no evidence of movement beneath the surface. Even the sand and dirt she’d raised upon entering had settled down by now.

She calmed herself with an effort, closed her eyes again, and waited.

Soon she felt reasonably assured that the insect wasn’t real enough to attack her, but she stayed in the water just to be on the safe side. The water sent pinpricks of pain cascading through her very marrow — but even that kind of discomfort didn’t provide her with enough incentive to get out.

Wolruf sat patiently on the bank. “Are ‘u well again?” the alien asked.

“I think so,” she said. “I had another visit.”

“Assumed as much.”

“I think my visitor is gone now. I think I prefer looking at my episodes in terms of visitors, by the way.

It’s making it easier for me to accept them.”

“Good. Don’t ‘u wan’ come out of water now? ‘U mite catch cold.”

“No. It feels rebellious, to be doing something prying robot eyes might disapprove of.”

“Will wait.”

“Thanks. I’ll just be a few more minutes. However safe my mind may feel while I’m in here, I don’t think my body can take much more of this cold.”

Something brushed against her. She glanced down to see that something had stirred the dirt up.

Something too big to be just an ant. Something that was real.

“What’s that?” she exclaimed.

“Wha’zz what?” Wolruf inquired.

But Ariel could not bring herself to answer. Her teeth were clattering too much. Screwing up her courage — which she felt was in short supply these days — she gingerly ducked her head beneath the surface, keeping her eyes open in the frigid fluid with, an effort.

A hunk of metal lay half buried in the bottom of the reservoir. The gentle currents had removed. enough of the dirt covering it to begin moving it back to the shore. Its stiff hand brushed again against her leg.

Its hand?

Ariel accidentally inhaled a noseful of water. She shot up to the surface, sputtering.

“Air-eel?” asked Wolruf. “Wha’ is it?”

“It’s a robot — there’s a robot down here!”

“Wha’zz it doing there?” asked the caninoid, running to the edge of the water.

“I don’t know. I think it’s dead!”

“Robotzz can’t die!”

“Maybe this one can. It looks like Lucius!”

Chapter 5

UNLEARN OR ELSE

JUST BEFORE DAWN, Derec went to sleep wondering what it would feel like to know who he was.

He knew he would dream. He would remember his dream, as always. He often searched the imagery of his dreams for a clue to his identity, figuring that his subconscious was doubtlessly signaling him information about this most personal of all his problems.

Often he dreamed he was a robot. Collectively, those dreams were always similar. He might begin in the survival pod, or in the diagnostic hospital, or even in his sleeping quarters in the house he had had Robot City provide for himself and his friends. Often he would accidentally uncover the Key to Perihelion; he would open a console panel, or open a cabinet, or even find it in his life-suit, and he would always use it.

The destination invariably filled him with keen disappointment, or even despair, for it would always be another place where he had been during the last few weeks, subtly altered, more menacing perhaps, but always fresh in his memory. Never did he dream of a place he had been before he lost his memory.

There would be an accident — he would fall down a chasm opening up beneath his feet, a worker robot would misfunction and slice him open, or something else equally disastrous would happen.

But he would feel no pain. There would be no blood. He would look on his injured body, and see his skeletal structure revealed by his wound.

But not his skeletal bone. And therein lay the serious rub.

For he would have no bones to break, no flesh to tear. His skin would be plastic and his skeleton would be metal. There would be blinking lights where his muscles should be, and wires instead of arteries.

And he would feel no pain, no life-and-death anxiety about the wound, only a calmly overwhelming urge to repair himself as quickly as possible.

At that point the dream always ended, with Derec waking up in a cold sweat, staring at his hand and wondering if it just wasn’t programmed to tremble at irrational fears, fears that he had always been programmed to experience, at random intervals.

He always settled back to sleep with an effort, and though not a reflective man he would invariably wonder, just for a moment, if, after you got past the obvious, there really was any difference between feeling like a human and feeling like a robot.

Sometimes the same dream, or a close variation on it, would begin again.

Tonight, however, as he tossed and turned, the dream was somewhat different.

Not surprisingly, it began in the square.

It was night, and Derec was alone. There was not an entity in sight. And as he looked at the slightly taller, slightly more freakish versions of the buildings around the square, he doubted there was an entity in the city.

But something was missing. He sensed that though the square was deserted, it was even emptier than it should be.

Something else should be here. Circuit Breaker! Where was Circuit Breaker?

Derec looked down to see that the plasticrete was crawling up his feet, fastening him to the spot. There was the distinct sensation of his feet merging with the plasticrete, of the meta-cells beginning to function in harmony with his biological cells. Derec held down his growing sense of panic with an effort. He did not know which he feared more: the conclusion, or awakening before he learned what it might be.

In a matter of moments the meta-cells completely smothered Derec. So thoroughly had the metallic cells mingled with his own that he did not know where they ended and where his began.

Strangely, he felt himself to be wider, taller, more physically substantial in every respect. He could not see nor move, yet found he had no yen to do either. He had become Circuit Breaker itself, gathering in the energy of the starlight, transforming it, amplifying it, and casting it out. He was stronger, sturdier, and more solid than he had ever been before.

But he had also lost his mind. Suddenly he had gone from a someone to a no one. He didn’t even miss his sense of identity. He couldn’t understand why he had wanted his memory back in the first place. What good could thinking and knowledge do him, standing so strong and bulky against the atmospheric tides?

Derec awoke gradually; a profound feeling of mental displacement aggravated him during those moments in which his mind hovered in the regions between waking and sleeping. In fact, those moments stretched out for an uncommonly long time. Both his immediate future and immediate past seemed hopelessly out of reach.

But the future already beckoned. He realized that for the last several moments he had been listening to a loud pounding on the door. He recalled an appointment with annoyance. It was too bad. He half wished he could return to sleep. He could certainly use it.

Oh well, there’s nothing I can do about it now.

He rubbed his eyes. “Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be right there!”

But the knocking continued unabated, growing progressively more insistent. Now Derec was really annoyed. The persistent knocking, if it came from a human, would be very impolite. But robots had no choice but to be polite, regardless of the circumstances. What kind of robot would be so obviously predisposed toward the overkill of unnecessarily persistent knocking?

Derec suddenly realized. Oh no! I’d forgotten it was Harry!

Derec dressed hurriedly, opened the door and, sure enough, Harry was standing at the threshold. “I assume I have not been knocking too long,” the robot said. “I have a hundred questions to ask you.”

“And I’ve got a few more than that to ask you,” Derec replied, motioning him inside, “but I’m afraid we’ve got a limited amount of time today.”

“So am I to assume that you are interviewing Lucius later?” asked Harry. “Why chat with that genius when you have me around?” Then: “Was that good? Was it humor ous?”

Derec tried to hide his smile. He didn’t want to encourage the robot, which didn’t need it anyway. “I think you’ll both prove equally important to my studies of what’s been happening to robots on this planet.

Did you bring your friends along?”

“M334 and Benny? No. They are working on a project of some sort together. I think they want its nature to be a surprise.”

“And it probably will be,” said Derec sarcastically, “if the events of the last few days have been any indication.”

“Forgive me in advance, but was that remark also an attempt at humor?”

“Not really, no.”

“I see. You must understand it is often difficult for a robot to understand what a human’s tone of voice means,” said Harry, again very politely.

Derec decided to take the question seriously. “It was a casual observation, a commentary laced with what I presumed to be light-heartedness, an attitude which frequently gives rise to humor.”

“It sounded sarcastic, insofar as I can comprehend these things.”

“Did it, now? Maybe M334 should be here after all. Our conversation last night was your first real contact with the human race, wasn’t it?” asked Derec, punching up a cup of coffee from the dispenser.

“Yes, and an auspicious one it was, too.”

“Whose tone is elusive now, Harry? How long have your pathways been consumed with the objective to achieve humor?”

“Since the replicating disaster that almost destroyed Robot City, from which you saved us, thank-you-very-much.”

“And since then you’ve been pursuing your goal with the single-mindedness characteristic of robots?”

“How else?”

“How else, indeed. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that even humor has its time and place, that the average human being simply can’t bear to be around someone who answers every query or makes every casual observation with a smart remark? It gets predictable after a while, and can cause an otherwise pleasant social situation to undergo rapid deterioration. Which is another way of saying that it gets boring.

Dull. Mundane. Predictable.”

“It fails to elicit the proper response.”

“Robots can’t laugh,” said Derec cryptically, sipping his coffee. As bitter as bile, it was exactly what his nerves cried out for.

“I see you have deduced the basic conundrum in which I’ve found myself since I embarked on my little project.”

“Believe me, it’s obvious. But seriously, Harry, how would you react if you were walking down the street and a manhole suddenly opened up beneath you and you fell in?”

“What is a manhole? Is that some kind of sexual reference?”

“Ah, no, a manhole is an opening in the street, usually covered, through which someone can enter into a sewer or a boiler.”

“Can you be certain there is nothing covertly sexual in those words? I have been diligently studying the craft of the double entendre, but there is much I have yet to grasp because all I know about human sexual matters is what material the central computer calls up for me.”

“I must personally inspect that material as soon as possible. But to keep to the main subject, how would you feel if you fell down a manhole?”

Harry almost shrugged. “I would feel like going boom.”

“Seriously.”

“My logic circuits would inform me that the end was near and, knowing me, would close themselves down in an orderly fashion before I suffered the indignity of random disruption.”

“I see. And how would you feel if you were walking down the street and saw me falling down a manhole?”

“Why, logically, that should be hysterical. Unless of course you went splat before I could fulfill the demands of the First Law.”

“Hmmm. You see, in such an eventuality, you would identify with my loss of dignity and, were you human, would relieve your anxiety by laughing. Before you rescued me, that is. The question is: how can you relieve anxiety if you can’t laugh?”

“Everyone can agree it’s funny. That is how my comrades inform me when they believe I am on the beam.”

“But a comic performing jokes in front of an audience of robots can’t stop his act after each joke to ask everyone if he’s on the right track.”

“There are ways around that. It is customary in a formal situation for robots to nod their heads if they think something is funny. At least, that is what I am trying to convince them to do.”

Derec finished his coffee in a gulp and immediately punched up a second cup. “I see you’ve given this some thought.”

“One or two.”

“Is that an attempt at irony?”

“No, at a joke.”

“I think that for other robots to find your sense of humor worthwhile, you’re going to have to think of angles that relieve their own robotic anxieties. I’m not exactly sure what those would be. You could make fun of their foibles. Or you could write and perform skits about a robot who’s so literal-minded that he sometimes can’t understand what’s really going on around him. Some of Shakespeare’s characters have that trait, and they’re human, but it makes sense that a robot character would exaggerate things to ludicrous lengths.”

“You mean a character who understands the letters of the words but not their shades of meaning.”

“But the audience will. As robots, they will naturally have positronic anxieties concerning their own literal-minded traits relieved by identifying with him. He doesn’t necessarily have to be sympathetic, even; he could have the kind of personality robots would love to hate, if they were capable of either emotion.”

“What kind of anxieties do humans have?”

“It’s difficult for me to say. I don’t remember any humans. I’ve just read a few books. Many of Shakespeare’s jokes, his puns, his slapstick, have a ribald, bawdy humor that strikes me as slightly off-color today, despite the gulf of the centuries between us. So I guess it’s safe to say there’s always been a certain amount of sexual anxiety in human beings, and one of the ways they relieve it — or learn how to deal with it — is through humor.”

Harry nodded as if he understood what Derec was talking about. Now, if I only felt the same, Derec thought. I’m strictly on shaky ground here.

“In that case, you could explain an old Spacer joke to me that I have been trying to work into my act.”

“Okay? …. Your act!?”

“My act. Until now I have only told jokes to my personal acquaintances — comrades who understand what I am attempting to do. But I have been preparing a presentation for an assembly. An act.”

“How many jokes do you have?”

“A couple. I have failed to generate original material, so I have been investigating the vocal rhythms behind existing jokes.”

“To hone your timing?”

“Yes, insofar as I comprehend what that talent includes. There are no voice tapes for me to investigate, though the reference texts contain frequent entries on such material.”

“Okay, Harry,” said Derec, chuckling at the concept of all this as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the counter. “Fire away!”

“With post haste, sir. One day three men in a lifepod are coming in for a landing at the local spacedock.

They had been marooned for several days and eagerly anticipate their return to the comforts of civilization. One man is a Settler, another an Auroran, and the third a Solarian.”

Derec hid his grin with his palm. Harry’s delivery was indeed awkward, and his few gestures bore little connection to what he was saying, but a solid effort was apparent. Also, the unlikely combination of the characters’ derivations already promised interesting interaction. Historically, there was much social friction between the groups: Aurorans and Solarians both disliked the Settlers because of their recent

“third-class” colonization of the planets; and there had never been much love lost between the Aurorans and Solarians, especially since the latter had mysteriously abandoned their world and vanished. Derec already made a mental note to tell Ariel this one.

“So the three men are just overhead the dock when suddenly a freighter’s radar malfunctions and the gigantic ship crosses directly in front of their flight path. A crash is inevitable, and the three men prepare themselves for their last moments.

“A logical thing to do,” said Derec. Immediately, he feared that his words might have disrupted Harry’s rhythm, such as it was, and so resolved to remain quiet for the duration of the joke.

Harry, on the other hand, continued doggedly as if nothing had happened. “All of a sudden — mere instants before the crash — all three men are bathed in a yellow light — and they disappear into thin air!

“They look around and they fail to perceive their pod, the freighter, or the docks. They are in some kind of infinite pool of blue light-face-to-face with a strange man with a wreath of leafy twigs around his head.

The strange man has a white beard, wears burlap robes, and carries a wooden staff. The men realize they are in the company of some kind of deity.

“‘I am known throughout the spheres of space and time as He Who Points The Fickle Finger Of Fate,’ the man says, ‘and I have come to point the finger at you.’ And true to his word, he points at the Settler and says, ‘You shall live through the next few moments, but only if you promise never again to drink any sort of alcoholic beverage. Ever. The moment you take a drink, regardless of how many years from now it is, you will die an instant death. Do you understand?’

“‘I do, sir,’ says the Settler, ‘though is it not asking much from a Settler to expect him to forego the delights of alcohol for an entire lifetime?’

“‘Perhaps it is,’ says He Who, ‘but my demand stands nonetheless. I repeat, the instant a liquid containing alcohol touches your lips, you shall die as surely as if you had died in the crash.’

“‘Then I agree,’ says the Settler reluctantly.

“And He Who points to the Auroran and says, ‘You must give up all greed.’

“‘I accept!’ says the Auroran at once. ‘It’s a deal!’

“And He Who points to the Solarian and says, ‘And last, you must give up all sexual thoughts, except for those you might have strictly for purposes of socially acceptable wedded bliss.’

“‘Excuse me, sir,’ says the Solarian, ‘but that is impossible. Do you not know what we Solarians have been through? Because our centuries of social and personal repression have ended so recently, we have little choice but to think about our new freedoms, and often.’

“He Who frowns and shakes his head. ‘That is no concern of mine. The three of you have my terms.

Accept them or die.,

“‘I accept it,’ the Solarian says.

“There is another flash of blinding light, and the three men find themselves standing on the ground as, in the distance, their pod crashes spectacularly into the freighter. They all experience profound relief. The Settler wipes his forehead and says, ‘I am ecstatic that this little episode has concluded. Look, yonder is a bar. Join me as I down some spirits by way of celebrating our good fortune.’

“The Auroran and the Solarian agree. They both desire libation, and in addition desire to see what will happen to the Settler.

“Indeed, the very second that the Settler consumes his first drink, he dies on the proverbial spot.

‘Leaping galaxies, the strange man was speaking the truth,’ says the Auroran. ‘We must vacate these premises!’

“The Solarian agrees enthusiastically. But on the way out’ the Auroran espies a rare and valuable jewel beneath a deserted table. The Auroran cannot resist. And just as he bends over to pick up the jewel — the Solarian dies!”

Harry ceased talking, and the longer Derec waited for the robot’s next words, the more apparent it became that the joke was over. At first he didn’t understand and he had to visualize the scene and what must have happened. The Auroran bending over... the Solarian breaking his word....

Derec burst out laughing. “Ha, ha! That’s pretty good. Very unpredictable.”

“I understand that, sir,” Harry said. “I realize that the narrative leads you to believe the Auroran is next, but I fail to comprehend exactly what the Solarian could possibly have been thinking of. The central computer has thus far been unable to find material that would enlighten me. Would you care to explain?”

“No, no. I really do believe there are some things a robot was not meant to know.”

“Do I have your permission to ask Miss Ariel the same question?”

“Not before I ask her something slightly similar.” He took Harry by the arm and began leading him toward the door. “Now I’ve got to get you out of here. Lucius is due, and I’d like to talk to him alone, if you don’t mind.”

“Sir, how could I possibly do that?” Harry asked.

“Just a figure of speech,” said Derec, reaching for the doorknob. But before he had a chance to touch it, the door opened from the other side.

Ariel, her hair dripping wet and her suit clinging to her body, came running into the house. “There you are!” she exclaimed.

“Don’t you ever knock?” Derec asked angrily, then calmed down when he realized something serious was the matter. Besides, of course she didn’t have to knock. She lived here, too. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course. Wolruf and I found, ah....”

“Well? Out with it!” exclaimed Derec.

“I was at the reservoir this morning,” she said haltingly. “Uh, I was in the reservoir, and I felt something strange. It was Lucius. His positronic brain had been partially destroyed.”

“What did you say?” asked Derec as the room began to spin.

“Lucius has been deliberately sabotaged. To the utmost degree. You might even say he’s been murdered.”

“Ridiculous,” said Harry calmly. “Only an outsider would have committed such a deed, and that’s impossible. The city would have responded to an alien presence.”

“Not necessarily,” said Derec, thinking of Doctor Avery, who kept an office here, and whose arrival surely would not activate the city’s automatic warning devices.

“It’s no accident,” said Ariel firmly. “I think you’ll agree. Wolruf is supervising the robots who are bringing the, ah, body over here. Then you’ll both see for yourselves.”

“One of you must know more,” said Harry. “A robot would not willingly harm another robot. Only you two and the alien are suspects.”

Derec rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “No, there is no law actually dictating that a robot shall not do violence to another robot. In fact, a robot would have no choice if he truly believed harm would come to a human as a result of his omission of action.” He glanced at Ariel. “Where’s Mandelbrot? Wolruf?”

“Supervising the robots carrying the body here,” she said.

“Harry, please leave immediately. We’ll finish our talk later.”

“All right,” said the robot, walking through the door. “Though I feel obligated to warn you: You have not perceived my presence for the last time!”

“Is that robot for real?” asked Ariel after it was gone.

“I’m afraid so,” Derec replied. “Are you certain that we’re dealing with a deliberate case of deactivation here — not an accident of some sort?”

“No — but, Derec, Lucius’s face was struck in several places. It certainly looked deliberate to me, as if someone wanted to ensure it couldn’t be identified.”

“Which is impossible, because most of its parts contain serial numbers, which can be traced.”

“Exactly. So whoever did it must have realized that in mid-act and then thrown Lucius in the reservoir in the hope that it wouldn’t be found. Or, if it was found, it’d be so rusty that most of the serial numbers would be obscured.”

“And unless we’ve an unidentified intruder — which seems unlikely — a robot was responsible.”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

Derec nodded. “Absolutely. What were you doing in the reservoir?”

Ariel blushed, though Derec couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “I was taking a swim.”

“Fully dressed? Say, you’ve been losing weight, haven’t you?” he asked, looking her over with wide eyes.

“You’ll never know. Derec, how can you be flip at a time like this? To lose Lucius —”

“So early in his career, I know. The galaxy has been robbed of a great artist, I fear. Tragic. Simply tragic. I have to laugh, Ariel. It’s the only way I can deal with it, and right now I don’t care if you understand or not! Now be quiet and let me think!”

Ariel blinked in surprise, and jerked her head back as if he had taken a swipe at her. But she did as he wished.

Derec stared at the wall and tried to remember when he and Mandelbrot had parted company with Lucius. There had been a few hours remaining until the dawn. Had Lucius said anything about where it was going or what it was going to do? Nothing in particular that Derec could recall, just that it was going to close down for a few hours before beginning work on its next project. No, there wouldn’t be any clues; Lucius certainly couldn’t have predicted or even suspected that it would be murdered.

Hmm, can you call the shutdown of a robot “murder”? Derec asked himself. Or is murder too strong a word to use when talking about a machine, regardless of its level of sophistication?

A few moments later, however, Derec realized he wasn’t ruminating on the incident so much as he was repressing a profound sense of outrage. During their few hours together, Lucius had begun to mean something special to him. True, there was the possibility that he was overreacting because of his already well established affinity for robots, but throughout his short life that he could remember, he had demonstrated a special appreciation for intelligent life in all its manifestations.

Lucius was a robot, Derec thought. But I fear I shall never see its like again.

Derec realized after the fact that he had paraphrased a line from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. This reminded him of the promise he had made to Lucius, and he mulled over the implications of this promise for long minutes after Mandelbrot and Wolruf had escorted the robots carrying Lucius inside, after they had lain Lucius on a table. Evidently Mandelbrot or Ariel must have ordered the robots to depart, because Derec never recalled giving such an order.

For a while, as he looked at the battered and distorted face, Derec hoped he would discover that it was a dreadful mistake, that it really wasn’t Lucius there after all, but some other robot. But the size was right.

The model was right. The color was right. The unique identifying features that all city robots possessed to some degree were right. But most of all, the feeling in Derec’s gut was right.

Lucius was indeed dead. Murdered. The logic circuits of its positronic brain had been removed with precision. But the personality integrals had been left in the brain cavity, left to be permanently damaged in the reservoir. So Lucius’s unique abilities at logic might still exist, but the interaction between brain and body would probably never again be achieved. The personality was gone forever.

“Excuse me, everyone,” Derec said, actually aware that his friends were staring at him, waiting for his reaction. “I’d like to be alone with Lucius for a few moments.”

And then, after they had left, Derec cried. He cried in pity and remorse, not for Lucius, but for himself.

This was the first time he could remember having cried. When he finished, he felt only marginally better, but he had some idea of what he had to do, and who to look to for an answer.

Derec found the ebony at the place he had come to think of as Circuit Breaker Square. Other robots of various models and intelligence levels stood around the building, watching its colors reflect the sunlight in muted shades. Occasionally, reflections thrown off by the smooth planes glittered against the robots and the other buildings. The overall effect of Circuit Breaker was more restrained in the sunlight. Doubtlessly that, too, had been part of Lucius’s plan, to permit the building to become controllable and hence “safer”

in the day, while the night unleashed its true energies. He would have to find out upon what principle the solar batteries worked.

That was another question Lucius would no longer be able to answer personally; however interesting it was on the purely scientific level, it did not seem especially important in light of recent events.

The ebony stood at the edge of the perimeter. Its head never turned to the building; it was watching the other robots instead, as if it was searching for some meaning in their activity. Or lack of it, as the case was. The ebony stood straight and tall, with barely a nuance Derec could call remotely human. It was easy for him to imagine a black cape hanging from the ebony’s shoulders, easier still to imagine it standing on a hilltop and glaring in defiance at a gathering storm.

Blow wind. and crack your cheeks, Derec thought, recalling a line from King Lear.

Trying his best to look casual, as if he were simply taking a stroll, Derec walked to the ebony and said,

“Excuse me, but didn’t I see you here last night?”

“It is possible, master,” replied the ebony, bowing its head and shoulders slightly as if to take note of the human’s presence for the first time.

“With all the other robots?”

“I was in the square, but my circuits do not acknowledge the fact that I was with the other robots.”

“I see by your insignia and model that you are a supervisor robot.”

“That is true.”

“Exactly what are your duties?” Derec asked casually.

With an almost stately turn of its head, the ebony turned toward Circuit Breaker and waited until the length of the silence between them became quite long — deliberately, for a kind of dramatic effect, it seemed to Derec. An answer was intended, but so was a space of waiting. Derec began to get a seriously queasy feeling in his stomach.

Finally, the ebony said, “My duties are floating. I am programmed to ascertain what needs to be done and then to do it or otherwise see to it.”

“All of this is up to your discretion?”

“I am a duly designated rogue operative. The city requires a certain amount of random checks if it is to run at peak efficiency. If a machine breaks down gradually, the supervisor on the spot might not notice because it is there during every tour of duty. It would get used to the situation, would not even realize something was amiss, whereas I, with my extra-keen memory banks and an eye capable of perceiving individual levels of meta-cells, would notice it immediately.”

“Once you actually look at the problem, that is.”

“Of course. I doubt even a human can fix a machine before he knows if and where it has been broken.”

“Don’t underestimate us.”

“I shall strive not to. Do not think, sir, that my sole function is to act as mechanical troubleshooter. My tasks vary, depending upon the situation. Often central calls on me to provide visual and cognitive assistance if there is some problem with robotic efficiency — not that my comrades ever function at less than their peak, but because sometimes they cannot be certain that they are directing their energies to the best advantage of all.”

“So you’re a problem solver! You help devise solutions to the unforeseen shortcomings in central’s program!”

Derec leaned against a building and saw Circuit Breaker weave back and forth like a balloon hung up in a breeze. He felt like someone had hit him on the back of the skull with a lug wrench. His lungs felt like paper. His ankles felt like the bones had turned into rubber putty. At first he was too stunned to loathe the ebony, but that feeling grew and grew, as he leaned there and tried to get his thoughts straight.

This robot has got to make decisions, Derec thought. The very nature of its job calls for analytical creativity! It could have viewed Circuit Breaker as so revolutionary to the robotic psyche that it constituted an obstacle to the laborers’ duties. And then... then the ebony would have been forced to do something about Lucius.

There’s nothing in the Three Laws about a robot being forbidden to harm another robot. In fact.

First Law situations and Second Law orders may require it.

This is not proof, though.

For a moment Derec wondered what he would do once he had the proof. He would have to keep the ebony — or whichever robot the murderer was — functional for a time until the mechanics as well as the psychology had been checked for anomalies. The question of what came next would have to be decided after all the facts were in. It was possible that the ebony couldn’t help itself.

Just as it was also possible that the Three Laws had been a significant factor, that once the ebony had embarked on a course of logic, it had followed it rigorously to an end predestined for tragedy.

“Tell me,” Derec said, making an effort to stand up straight, “do you ever take the initiative when it comes to identifying problems?”

“If you mean can I pinpoint a potential glitch before central is aware, then the answer is yes. Those occasions, however, are quite rare and often quite obvious.”

“They’re obvious if you’re not central.”

“Sir?”

“And do you ever take the initiative in solving problems?”

“I have, and central has had to fine-tune them, too.”

“But not all the time.”

“I see I must be exact about this. Central has only fine-tuned three out of forty-seven of my solutions.

Have I satisfied you so far with my answers, sir?”

“Forty-seven? That’s a lot of problems, and those are only the ones you found on your own.”

“Robot City is young, sir. There will doubtlessly be many glitches in the system before the city is operating at one hundred percent efficiency.”

“And you’re certainly going to do your bit, aren’t you?”

“I can do nothing else, sir.”

Derec nodded. “I see. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Canute.”

“Tell me, Canute, how would you rate-efficiency-wise — a robot that deliberately took it upon itself to disconnect a comrade?”

“Sir, it would have to be seriously examined. Though of course it is possible that the First or Second Law would permit such an action. “.

“Are you aware that someone, presumably a robot, brutally disconnected Lucius last night? Damaged him beyond all hope of repair?”

“Of course I am aware. News travels fast over the comlink.”

“So you heard about it from other robots first?”

“Sir, why not ask me outright if I was the robot responsible? You know I am forbidden to lie.”

Canute’s words were like a bucket of cold water thrown into Derec’s face. Their forthrightness startled him. “I — I — how did you know I was leading up to that?”

“It seemed obvious from your line of questioning.”

“I see you have advanced deductive abilities.”

“It is a prerequisite for my line of work.”

Hmmm. I think you just may be the kind of robot I need, Derec thought. Putting aside his feelings for Lucius with a force of will, he thought of Ariel, and of the possibility that Canute, who made its intuitive leaps from a solidly practical framework, would be just the one to help him diagnose and cure her disease. Once its mental frames of reference could be adjusted, that is.

The trick would be to get it to readjust — to admit the gravity of its error — without causing positronic burnout in the process. For in that eventuality, Canute wouldn’t be able to repair a paper clip.

So the direct approach was out. Besides, Derec had a promise to keep.

“Canute, you may find this hard to believe, but I’ve been looking for a model like you.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, I have a specific type of building in mind that I’d like to see erected nearby. I’d also like it as permanent as possible. I think its presence will do much to enrich life here in Robot City.”

“Then I am eager to do whatever you ask. What type of building did you have in mind?”

“An open-air theatre — a playhouse. I’ll give you the details later, but I want to see functional elaboration in the design. I want you to generate your notions of some of the details. In fact, I insist on it.

Understand?”

“Yes,” said Canute, lowering its head slightly. “May I ask why you want to have a theatre erected?”

“Have you ever heard of Hamlet?”

Chapter 6

THE WORLD OF THE PLAY

CANUTE WAS RIGHT about one thing: news travels fast at comlink speed. Returning from Circuit Breaker Square to his quarters, Derec hadn’t even gotten through the door before Mandelbrot began talking.

“Master, where have you been? I have been besieged by requests to assist you in your latest project. I fear that, lacking sufficient information, I was forced to tell everyone to wait. I hope that was all right.”

“It was,” said Derec, lying down on the couch. “Where’s Ariel?”

“She went to her room. She mumbled something about mopping up on her Shakespeare.”

“I think you mean brushing up.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re not very comfortable with human idioms, are you, Mandelbrot?”

“I can be neither comfortable nor uncomfortable conversing with them. But I take you to mean it is sometimes difficult for me to translate their peculiar surface meanings in practical terms. For instance, how do you brush up someone who is ancient history? In that respect, I do sometimes have problems communicating. But about this project....”

“All right, I’ll tell you. But wait — where’s Wolruf?”

“With Miss Ariel. I think Wolruf is performing some task. Forgive me if I am again misphrasing it, but she is being Miss Ariel’s line coach.”

“Ssh. Quiet. Listen.”

And Derec heard, very softly, through the closed door, Ariel speaking the words, “Oh, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown! The courtier’s, soldier’s, scholar’s, eye, tongue, sword; the expectancy and rose of the fair state, the glass of fashion and the mould of form, the observed of all observers, is, er, ah —”

“Kwei-it,” said Wolruf in a low volume that wasn’t hushed enough to be called a whisper, but was probably as close to one as she could manage.

“Quite, quite down!” Ariel finished enthusiastically.

“Hmm, it seems my second bit of casting is almost complete,” said Derec.

“Casting, master?” said Mandelbrot. “You are having a cast made? Have you injured yourself?”

“No, not at all,” Derec replied, laughing.

“I must say, it seemed you were hiding your suffering awfully well.”

“It’s my hobby. Listen, tell me what you would do with the robot that dismantled Lucius.” The sudden shock of the image of the robot lying there, behind the closed door to his office, sent a tremor of loss and grief through Derec’s veins. And of terror, too. He’d never before thought robots were things that could die. He’d always assumed they were immortal in a way that life could never be.

“Forgive me, master, but I would think nothing of it. I would merely follow your instructions.”

“And what if I wasn’t around to give you instructions? What if you had to decide when you were on your own?”

“First, I would solicit the robot’s explanation, and learn of any justifications for its actions, if any, it may have had, particularly as they involved its interpretation of the Three Laws.”

“But there is no law against a robot harming another robot.”

“Of course, and the robot in question may have been operating on instructions from a human. But I gather such is not the case here.”

“Well, yes...”

“So after having received the explanation, I would take the safest course and have the robot closed down until the proper repairs could be administered, or until instructions could be received from human sources.”

“That could take a long time, particularly here on Robot City.”

“No harm would be done. Upon reactivation, if that is what is decided upon, the robot would behave as if it had just been shut down for a tune-up the day before.”

“Hmm. But what if there was something you needed from the robot?”

“Then that would depend on what you needed, and how badly you needed it.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, not that you can feel, I know, but it makes me feel better to know your logic circuits concur with some of this...” And he explained to Mandelbrot his theory that a creative robot with a scientific bent might be able to make a diagnostic breakthrough to help Ariel.

“But how do you know that Canute possesses scientific talents?”

“I don’t. But I may be able to use its mind to help me learn more about what’s happening to the robots in this place. And I need to do it — to get Canute to admit to its error without drifting out in the process.

That’s one reason why I’m putting on this play.”

“This play?”

“Hamlet. by William Shakespeare. Quiet; listen.”

Ariel’s voice came through the door, muffled but quite clear as she repeated and then continued the speech she had rehearsed earlier, this time in louder, more confident cadences. “And I of ladies most deject and wretched, that suck’d the honey of his music vows, now see that noble and most sovereign reason, like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.”

“Isn’t that beautiful?” Derec gushed.

“The words, master, or Miss Ariel saying them?”

“Have you been talking to Harry?”

“Master, I do not understand your implication.”

“Never mind. Anyway, I’m going to use this playas a lightning rod, to draw every robot with creative tendencies to the same place, working on a group project, and then see what develops. I don’t know what’s going on here, but whatever it is, I’m going to bust it wide open!”

Someone knocked on the door. “Get that, will you?” Derec asked as he turned toward Ariel’s office.

“Ariel? This is your director speaking! Come out here, will your’

Ariel came out in a flash, followed by a bounding Wolruf. “Director?” she said. “Then who’s going to be my leading man?”

“Oh? When you found out about this production, how did you know you were going to be Ophelia?”

“Because clearly I possess all the mental and physical qualifications. Who better to playa girl who’s going insane than one who really is? Of course, I don’t know who’s going to play Hamlet’s mother, but that’s not my problem, is it?”

At least she’s keeping her sense of humor about things, Derec thought. “No — it’s your director’s — and your leading man’s.”

Ariel grinned and bowed. “At your service, Mr. Director.”

“Master —”

“Yes, Mandelbrot.”

“Forgive the intrusion, Master Derec and Mistress Ariel, but Harry, Benny, and M334 are at the door.

They said they had vibes to present to you.”

“Vibess?” said Wolruf. “Not ni-ice word on my would.”

“Yes, but who knows what it means here,” said Ariel. “Send them in, Mandelbrot.”

“Yes, I suppose we have to begin interviewing for our cast and crew sooner than later,” said Derec.

In walked the three robots, each carrying brass objects. Each object struck Derec as being rather strange. M334 held a tube with two dozen keys, with what appeared to be a mouthpiece on one end. It was evidently a wind instrument, though what sort of sound it was supposed to make, Derec had no way of imagining.

Nor did he know what sort of sounds he might expect from the other two instruments held by the other two robots. Benny’s was smaller than M334’s, and could be easily held in one hand; there were three taps on the top, presumably to modulate the sonic textures. Harry’s was the straightest and the longest of the three; it had a sliding device that evidently would lengthen or shorten the tubing to match the player’s will, again presumably to modulate the sound.

“Good day, sir,” said Benny. “We can only presume we are interrupting your preparations —”

“Good grief, word travels fast around here!” Ariel exclaimed.

“You found out, didn’t you?” said Derec. Ariel shrugged. “I heard it from Wolruf.”

“And how did you hear about it, Wolruf?” Derec asked.

Wolruf merely shrugged. The effort made her entire body quiver.

“— and so we thought you might want to see for yourself the results of a project we have been devoting ourselves to instead of closing down in our spare time,” finished Benny, as if no one else had spoken.

“Ah, and what is the nature of this project?” Derec asked suspiciously.

“Originally it was purely musical,” said Benny.

“But when we heard you were planning to engage us in a recreation of human art forms, we performed research and discovered that music was often a significant part of such functions,” said Harry.

“That struck us as being particularly fortuitous,” said M334. “We thought — perhaps presumptuously, but how could we tell if we refrained from inquiring? — that our music might make a significant contribution to the enterprise.”

“Uh, what kind of music are we attempting here, with those things?” Ariel asked. “Auroran nouveau fugues? Tantorian ecto-variations?”

“Something close to period, Terran-style,” said Harry.

“You mean from Earth?” Ariel asked incredulously. Terran culture was not held in high regard in most Spacer circles.

“Shakespeare was from Earth,” put in Derec mildly.

“Yes, but he was lucky enough to be talented,” said Ariel. “You can’t say that about most Terran artists.”

“Perhaps you judge our aspirations too harshly,” said Benny.

“Yes, you should judge after you hear us play,” said M334.

“Yes, you should have plenty of critical ammunition then,” said Harry.

Ariel stared at Derec. “It was a joke,” Derec said.

“Close to bein’ good one!” said Wolruf.

The three robots then magnetically applied computerized, flexible, artificial lips to their speaker grills. The lips were connected by electrical cords that led into the positronic cavities, and Derec saw at once, by the way the robots exercised the lips and blew air through them, that they responded directly to thought control.

Just like real lips, thought Derec, biting his lower one as if to make sure. “Excuse me, but before you boys strike up the brass, I’d like to know what names those instruments are supposed to have.”

“This is a trumpet,” said Benny. “A saxophone,” said M334.

“And a trombone,” said Harry.

“And by way of further introduction,” said Benny, “the number we would like to assault for your aural perusal is an ancient composition dating not four hundred years later than Shakespeare’s time. This was already during the age of recorded music, but no tapes are currently available through central, so we can only surmise the manner in which these instruments were played by examining the sheet music.”

“What there is of it,” said Harry. “Most of this number is improvised.”

“Uh-oh!” said Ariel to herself, putting her hand protectively on her forehead. “I must be having a delirium!”

“And the number we would like to assault is what the reference tapes denote as, in the parlance of the day, a snappy little ditty. This song its composer, the human known as Duke Ellington, called ‘Bouncing Buoyancy.”’

I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Derec thought. He waved his hand. “Play on, McDuffs!”

The robots did. At least, that’s what the humans and the alien thought they were trying to do. The musical form was so radically unlike anything they’d experienced, the playing so haphazard and odd, so full of accidental spurts and sputters and stops, that exactly what the robots were attempting to do remained a matter of some conjecture.

Benny’s trumpet played the lead with a blaring succession of notes that occasionally struck the ear as being just right. The noise the instrument made resembled the wail of a siren, recorded backwards. So high was its frequency that Derec became afraid his ears would begin bleeding. Benny’s notes, on the other hand, did seem to possess some kind of internal logic, as if he knew where he was going but wasn’t quite sure how to get there.

Harry on the trombone and M334 on the saxophone attempted to provide Benny with a solid foundation; awkwardly, they tooted eight measures of unchanging harmony, over and over again. They nearly succeeded, harmony-wise, and perhaps their glitches wouldn’t have been so noticeable if they’d occasionally managed to start and end the eight measures at the same time.

The trombone itself tended to sound like an exquisitely crafted raspberry, surreally brayed from the mouth of a contemptuous donkey. The saxophone’s sonic attack, meanwhile, resembled nothing so much as a gaggle of geese gurgling underwater. The effect of the three instruments combined was such that Derec wondered momentarily if the robot hadn’t come up with a violation of an interplanetary weapons treaty.

Derec spent the first minute finding the music absolutely atrocious, utterly without redeeming social value.

It was the worse kind of noise; that is, noise pretending to be something else. But gradually he began to perceive, vaguely, the equally vague ideal in the robots’ minds. The music itself, regardless of the manner of its playing, possessed a single-minded joy that quickly became infectious. Derec discovered that his toe was tapping in a rhythm akin to that of the music. Ariel was nodding thoughtfully. Wolruf had her head cocked inquisitively, and Mandelbrot was his usual inscrutable self.

Derec’s mind wandered a second, and he wondered if he could rig up a specimen of those liplike fixtures on the mouths to help robots portray human emotions during the production. The fact that most had immobile faces, incapable of even rudimentary expression, was going to cripple the illusion unless he devised some way to use the very inflexibility to greater effect. He imagined a set of lips twisted in laughter at the play’s cavorting actors, and in fear of the ghost of Hamlet’s father, and in anguish at the sight of all the dead bodies littering the stage. Well, it’s a thought, he figured, and then returned his attention to the music.

The arrangement of “Bouncing Buoyancy” concluded with all three instruments playing the main theme simultaneously. Theoretically. The robots took the mouthpieces from their lips with a flourish and held out the instruments toward their audience.

Derec and Ariel looked at one another. Her expression read You’re the director, you do the talking.

“How did our number bludgeon you, master?” asked Benny.

“Uh, it was certainly unusual. I think I see what you robots are trying to get at, and I think I may like it if you actually get there. Don’t you agree, Ariel?”

“Oh, yes, definitely.” She was really saying I seriously doubt it.

“Iss it Ham-lit?” Wolruf asked.

“That, I don’t know,” said Derec. “I suppose this Ellington fellow composed other works, though.”

“In a variety of styles and moods,” said Benny

“All adaptable to our instruments,” said Harry.

“I was afraid of that,” Derec said. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll improve with practice. I take it this has been your secret project, Benny?”

Benny bowed in a manner curiously appreciative for a robot. “I personally crafted the instruments and taught my friends what knowledge I had concerning the art of blowing horns.”

“Take off those lips, will you? They’re just too weird.”

As the robots complied, Mandelbrot said, “Master, this performance. Where will it take place? I do not believe the city has theatrical facilities.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it taken care of. I know just the robot who can design us a theatre perfectly suited for the denizens of Robot City. Only he doesn’t know about it yet.”

“And who is that, master?”

“Canute. Who else?” Derec smiled. “In fact, get me Canute. Have him come here right away. I want him to hear some of this ‘Bouncing Buoyancy’ brew.”

“Each age has different terrors and tensions,” said Derec a few days later on the stage of the New Globe, “but they all open on the same abyss.”

He paused to see what effect his words had on the robots sitting in the chairs before the proscenium. He had thought his words exceedingly profound, but the robots merely stared back at him as though he had recounted the symbols of a meaningless equation, interesting only because a human had happened to say it.

He cleared his throat. Sitting in seats off to the side of the robots were Ariel and Mandelbrot. Ariel had a notebook in hand, but Mandelbrot, whom Derec had appointed property master, naturally had no need of one; his total recall would keep track of the production’s prop specifications without notes.

Wolruf sat licking her paw in a chair just behind the pair. She had insisted on being the official prompter, or line coach, and as such had already spent a lot of time prompting Derec and Ariel while they were memorizing their lines — a task that he feared, in his own case, was far from completed.

Derec cleared his throat again. His awkwardness showed — at least if the knowing smile Ariel directed toward him was any indication. Wolruf just licked her chops; he got the feeling that on an unspoken level, she was finding the shenanigans of humans and robots incredibly amusing.

“Hmmm. You’re all familiar with the studies some of you have been making concerning the Laws of Humanics. That means you’re also familiar, at least in passing, with the many peculiarities and contradictions of the human condition. Passion and madness, obsession and nihilism — these things don’t exist among you robots, but it’s something we humans have to deal with, in varying degrees, every day.

“Shortly, we shall boldly go where no robot has gone before. We shall descend into the dense, dark, deep, decrepit abyss of the thirst for revenge, and when we emerge, we’ll have something — something — something really terrific to remember in the days ahead. It’ll be swell. You’ll see.”

“Get on with it!” Ariel shouted.

“Forgive me, master, but it is my considered opinion that you should get on to the more theatrical matters,” piped in Mandelbrot. Inan effort to appear natural, he had crossed his legs and held his palms on his knee. He succeeded only in appearing like a bunch of plywood pounded together with rusty nails.

“It’s all right, Mandelbrot,” said Derec, feeling his face flush. “I’m just getting warmed up.” Returning his attention to the robots, he could not fail to notice their posture was every bit as stiff as his robot Friday’s.

For a brief instant, he wondered What in the world am I doing here? steeled himself, and promptly got on with it. “Theatre is an art that depends upon the work of many collaborators —” he began.

Here was the New Globe Theatre, designed by the robot Canute and built under its personal supervision. By following the leads of clues in the central computer that Lucius had left when it had used its programs, Canute was able to tell the city what to build and how long it should stand. Meaning that Canute had done pretty much what Lucius had done, but acting under orders from a human. (While supervising this aspect of his project, Derec realized it was possible that Lucius had, in turn, followed leads suggested by Derec’s establishment of automats in one building out of every ten. But of course Derec would never know for certain.)

Perhaps the task has been easier, less taxing for Canute because, unlike Lucius, he had had a pattern to follow: that of the old Globe Theatre in the London, Earth, of Shakespeare’s day. But he had added his own specifications, without Derec’s prompting. He had attempted to ascertain the special problems of form and function and how they either augmented or conflicted with his sense of how a theatre should fit in esthetically with the environment of Robot City.

Derec had pointedly refrained from telling Canute why the ebony, of all the robots in the city, had been appointed to design the second permanent building of Robot City. And he had watched Canute carefully while giving instructions, to see if it was in danger of positronic drift for doing (Derec suspected) exactly what it had harmed another robot for doing.

But Canute had given no such evidence. All that was needed to satisfy it, apparently, was for the impetus to come from human instructions.

Like the old Globe, Canute’s theatre was roughly cylindrical in shape, but it was also misshapen and bent, like a bar of metal that had been slightly melted on the ground, then twisted beneath a giant foot.

Like the old Globe — or at least according to most of the conjectures that had been made about it after it had been torn down to make room for a row of tenements a few decades after Shakespeare’s death — there were three trap doors in the stage, leading to different areas backstage. One backstage passage led as well to the city’s underground conduits, in case there was a power problem.

There were both a gallery and an upper gallery above the stage, and several hidden cameras in the wings. The rows of seats were staggered to provide each patron with an unobstructed view of the proceedings. Continuing the effort of providing the audience with the best possible lines of sight, the floor was raised and leveled in a series of gradual steps.

And, in the tradition of modem concert venues, tremendous screens for close-up shots were hung above the stage. Microphones were concealed throughout the stage and galleries.

Even the size of the threatre was impressive. The angles of the design provided for a variety of possible dramatic effects. But it was Canute’s choice of colors that really made the New Globe something to shout about over the hyperwave. On the jet-black ceiling, sparkles wavered in and out of focus like stars seen through a haze of heat. The carpet and seats were in gray-brown tones, variations of the colors found in the conduits and on the surface of the city — Canute’s version of “earth-tones.” The curtain was a flaming crimson that sparkled, too, and the walls were a soft, demure shade of white. The soft currents of the air conditioning system continuously rippled the curtains.

Robots naturally had no need of air conditioning, giving Derec the impression that Canute had designed the theatre not only for robots, but for humans as well. As if the ebony had designed the theatre in the secret, perhaps unrecognized hope that one day a play for an audience of humans would be presented here.

The subconscious hope?

“As robots, you are constitutionally incapable of telling a lie,” Derec said to his unresponsive audience.

“Only human beings can do that, though not always successfully. Theatre, however, is a world of pretense, provoking the collaborative activity of the spectator’s imagination. The spectator must be ready, willing, and able to believe in the lie of fiction, in the hopes of finding amusement, and, perhaps, some enlightenment. Our job is to assist him, to make him want to believe the lie.

“On the Shakespearean stage, little was shown, but everything was signified. Speech, action, prop, setting — all worked together toward the common end of providing the viewer a window through which he could look on the world. And if all the efforts of the cast and crew were successful, then the viewer, knowing that what he was seeing was a fabrication, willingly suspended his disbelief, choosing to believe for the moment that what he was seeing was real for the purpose of relating to the story.

“Our challenge is different. We must aid, force, and agitate robots to exercise their logic integrals in such a way that the integrals, too, become suspended. We must not only provide a window to the world, but to the heart of Man

“As I understand it, there are three worlds which must be considered for every production. That’s the world of the play, the world of the playwright, and the world of the production. I think we can all agree on what the world of the production is; r d like to say a few words about the other two worlds.”

“Are you going to perform this play — or talk it to death?” Ariel called out mischievously.

Derec laughed nervously. She had thrown him off his rhythm, and he forgot what he had planned to say next.

“The world of the playwright,” Mandelbrot prompted helpfully.

“Okay. In our time, mankind has achieved, more or less, an utterly civilized life. Few men ever break the laws of Man. Most people live long, healthy lives, even on overpopulated Earth, where conditions aren’t too terrific.

“But in Shakespeare’s day, life was often less a gift to be savored than it was a bagatelle to be endured.

Working conditions were brutal and difficult, education was nonexistent except for the privileged classes, and the scientific way of thinking — based on logical thinking with empirical proof backing it up — was only beginning its ascendancy. Most people died before they were thirty-five, thanks to war, pestilence, persecution, lousy hygiene, things of that nature. After all, Queen Elizabeth I of England, the ruler of Shakespeare’s day, was considered odd because she took a bath once a month, whether she needed it or not. But — yes, what is it?” Derec asked, noting that a robot sitting near Canute in the front had tentatively raised its hand.

“Most humble, abject, piteous apologies tendered for this untimely interruption,” said the robot, “but after having read the text and pondered its meanings for several hours, I find myself unhappily fixated on a problem of overwhelming significance, and it’s reasonable for me to trust that only a human being can explain it adequately.”

“Of course. I welcome any question.”

“Even one of a subjective nature?”

“Naturally.”

“Even. one that may in some quarters be considered too impolite for normal social intercourse?”

“Of course. Shakespeare was a missionary in opening up the realms of Terran discussion for centuries.”

“Even if the question is personal?”

Without trying to be obvious about it, Derec glanced down at his crotch to see if his zipper was up.

“Why, uh, sure. We’re going to have some pretty complex motivations in basic human drives to examine here.”

“Even if the question may be extremely personal?”

“What?”

“Is that a direct order?”

“No, it’s a direct question, but you can take it as an order if only it will get you to come out with it!”

“Excellent. For a moment I was afraid my capacitors would not permit me utterance if I was not buoyed by the added impetus of a direct order.”

“Would you please tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I know that the human male and female tend to have different surface contours, and that this difference has something to do with their frequently complex social interaction, and so my question is simply this: just what is it that the human male and female seem to be doing to each other in all their spare time?”

A stony silence echoed throughout the theatre. Derec’s focus wavered, and the gentle hum of the air conditioning went through a progression of hypnotic wah-wahs, as if it had been filtered in a recording studio. He shot Ariel a questioning glance. She smiled and shrugged. He looked at Wolruf.

She shook her head. “Don’ look a’ me. We have no matin’ cuss’oms. Jus’ do it and done be.”

“I seriously doubt it,” Derec snapped back. He happened to glance stage left just as Harry, holding the trombone, stuck its head from the wings. Benny and M334, also holding their instruments, stood behind Harry and gestured as if to grab the robot by the shoulders and pull it back.

They evidently thought better of it though, and permitted Harry to say, “Mister Director, I believe I can shake some illumination on the situation.”

Derec bowed, and gestured him onto the stage. “Be my guest.”

But as Harry quickly walked out and stood before the audience of robots, Derec suddenly got a sinking sensation in his stomach. “Uh, Harry, this isn’t another one of your jokes, is it?”

“I believe it shall prove instructive.”

“All right. I know when I’m beat.” Derec moved away to stand between Ariel and Wolruf.

Harry did not even look at the humans before commencing. He concentrated his gaze on the robots. “An axiom of carbon-based life-forms is that nature has intended them to reproduce. Not necessarily on schedule, not necessarily when it’s convenient, not necessarily prettily, but well. If the life-form in question derives a certain amount of gratification in the act of reproducing, that is well and good as far as the life-form is concerned, but all nature cares about is the reproductive urge. Some visual data is available from central, and I suggest you study it at your leisure, so we can all understand what chemical reactions are driving Ophelia and Hamlet while the latter is putting aside the pleasures of the moment to gain his crown.” Harry nodded at Derec. “You see, I have read the play already.” Then, back to the audience:

“And so that you might understand the dark, innermost depths of the urge, I must direct your attention to the early days of mankind’s colonization of the planets, in the days before he had truly accepted robots as his faithful companions, in the days when the wars of Earth, with their nuclear missiles and space-based defense systems, had followed man to the stars. In those days, military bases on newly colonized planets were common, and generally they were positioned at points remote from the civilian installations

“And, in those days, the sexes were often segregated, so it was not unusual for a hundred or so men to find themselves alone in remote, desolate lands, waiting for battles that never came, waiting for the day when they could once again delight in female companionship and discharge themselves of the urges building up during their isolation. Building. Building. Building. Ever building.

“So what did the men do about sex? They thought about it, they talked about it, and they dreamed about it. Some of them even did something about it.

“The exact nature of that something, as fate would have it, was uppermost in the mind of one General Dazelle, for it was a problem that he, too, would encounter while serving out his new assignment as commander of Base Hoyle. The general was a meticulous person who liked everything shipshape, and so upon his arrival to this remote military installation, he insisted the attaché take him on an immediate tour of the premises.

“The general was quite pleased with the barracks, the battlements, and the base as a whole, but he became quite distressed when he and the attaché turned a corner and saw hitched up to a post the sorriest, most pathetic, swaybacked, fly-infested old mare in the history of mankind. ‘What — what is that —?’ the general asked.

“‘That is a mare,’ said the attaché.

“‘And why is it here’? Why is it not stuffed and standing out in the field, scaring away the hawks and crows?’

“‘Because the men need it, sir,’ said the attaché.

“‘Need it? What could they possibly need it for?’

“‘Well, as you know, sir, the nearest civilian settlement is over a hundred kilometers away.’

“‘Yes.’

“‘And you know that, for security reasons, the only means of travel permitted for enlisted men between here and there is strictly bipedal.’

“‘Yes, but I fail to see what any of that has to do with that failed genetic experiment.’

“‘Well, then, surely you also know that men must be men. They have needs, you know. Needs that must be tended to.’

“The general looked in horror at the mare. He could not believe what he was hearing. The information was in grave danger of causing him severe psychological harm. ‘You mean, the men — they — with that old mare?’

“The attaché nodded gravely. ‘Yes. The urge builds up. There is nothing else they can do.’

“The general was on the verge of hyperventilating. He became so dizzy that he had to steady himself by leaning on the attaché. ‘On my honor as a soldier,’ said the general, ‘I will never become that desperate.’

“But as his tour of duty wore on, the urge built and built, until one day he had no choice but to admit he was exactly that desperate. Finally he could take it no more, and he said to the attaché, ‘Bring the mare to my quarters at once.’

“‘To your quarters?’ the attaché asked, evidently a little confused over something.

“‘Yes, to my quarters,’ said the general. ‘You remember what you said, about the men — and the mare?’

“‘Yes, sir!’ said the attaché, saluting.

“The attaché did as he was told. By now the mare was, if anything, a mere shadow of her former decrepit self. Recently she had fallen off a cliff, and had been lucky to survive with only mildly crippling injuries, and her body had been ravaged by disease. So the attaché was quite horrified, stunned to the core of his being, in fact, when the general took off his trousers and began to have his “v ay with the pathetic beast.

“‘Sir!?’ exclaimed the attaché, ‘what are you doing?’

“‘Is it not obvious what I am doing, sir?’ said the general. ‘Just as the men do!’

“‘Sir, I fail to grasp your meaning,’ said the attaché. ‘Never, never have I seen such a sight.’

“‘But, but, you said the men — their urges — and the, mare...

“‘Sir, the men have their urges, it is true, but I meant that when the urges become too much for them, they climb on top of the mare and ride her to the nearest settlement.,

“There. Does that make everything clearer?” finished Harry.

“Wha’ is he talkin’ abou’?” mumbled Wolruf.

“Now I’m totally confused,” whispered Derec. “At least his narrative technique is improving.”

Ariel, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “That — is the — silliest — thing I’ve ever heard,” she said between breaths.

Harry remained in place on the stage as he awaited his audience’s verdict. The robots had greeted the end of the joke with a kind of stony silence that only metal could summon. To a one, they stared straight ahead at Harry for several moments.

Then the robot that had asked the question that prompted the joke turned to its comrade on the right and said, “Yes, that makes sense.”

“I understand,” said another.

“As translucent as a gong,” said a third.

“Mysterious, absolutely mysterious,” said Canute.

The ebony was in the minority, however, as most of the robots seemed to be satisfied with Harry’s explanation.

Derec waited for Ariel to stop laughing and asked her, “Just what do you think is going on here?”

She turned toward him, took him by the arm, and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “The robots are beginning to learn about the world of Man the way we do — through jokes.”

“That does not compute,” replied Derec.

“Hmm. Let me put it this way. When you’re growing up on Aurora in the schools, one of the great mysteries in life is what’s commonly known as the birds and bees.”

“Yes, I know that phrase, but I don’t recall how I learned about it.”

“That’s because you have amnesia. Now, listen, while we received a lot of classroom instruction in the scientific sense, we still had certain... anxieties. You don’t remember yours, but you’ve probably still got a lot. Not that I’m being personal or anything, it’s just a fact.”

“Thank you. Go on.”

“And one of the ways we kids relieved ourselves of our anxieties, and found out a little bit about reality, was through the artistic vehicle known throughout the galaxy as the dirty joke.”

“And that’s what’s going on here?” Derec couldn’t explain why, but he felt his face turning red. “This is an outrage! Should I put a stop to it?”

“Oh, you’re such a prude. Of course not. This is all part of the learning experience. You know the old saying, ‘Nobody approves of a dirty joke — except from someone who knows how to tell it.”’

“Then why am I going through all this effort to put on this big production? Why don’t I just ask you to strip for them?”

“You’d like it, but they wouldn’t care. They’re not listening to these jokes for cheap thrills, but because they want to learn more about us.”

“They really do. They really want to understand what it means to be human, don’t they?”

“I think it’s a lot different than that. Personally, though, I also think you should keep your mind on what’s happening now, because Harry’s launched into another joke.”

Sure enough, the robot had. “The last man on Earth sat alone in a room,” he was saying. “Suddenly, there was a knock on the door —”

“All right, you’re a success, Harry.” Waving his arms, Derec rushed up to him and put his hand over his speaker grill. A symbolic gesture, to be sure, but no less an effective one. “Just join your comrades backstage until I call for you, okay?”

“Yes, Mister Director,” replied Harry, briskly walking away.

“Where were we? Oh, it doesn’t matter. Let’s talk about the play. ‘The play’s the thing,’ Hamlet says,

‘wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king. ‘Hamlet’s uncle Claudius has murdered Hamlet’s father, the King of Denmark, then taken his brother’s place on the throne. To solidify his claim, Claudius has married Hamlet’s mother, Gertrude. When Hamlet returns home from school, he has found the throne, which should be his, usurped, and while he suspects his uncle of foul play, he has no proof but the word of a ghost from beyond the grave.

“To secure this proof, Hamlet hires a traveling troupe of actors to perform a play that mirrors the crime that he believes Claudius has committed. He hopes that by watching his uncle during the performance, he’ll see the guilt, the uncovered knowledge of the crime, written on his uncle’s face.

“Claudius, meanwhile, suspects Hamlet of faking madness in search of this proof, and so he is stalking his nephew even as Hamlet is stalking him. The play is about the duel of wits between the two, and the means men will take to have what they want — be it a throne, revenge, or justice.”

Derec turned to Mandelbrot and nodded. Mandelbrot stood and said, “The Mister Director wishes to thank you for volunteering and submitting to the interview process.” Mandelbrot gestured toward Canute’s way. “And for following orders. No doubt many orders will be curtly given you in the days to come, and Mister Director wishes to thank you in advance. As most of you know, Mister Director will assault the part of Hamlet, while Miss Ariel will impersonate the doomed, lamented Ophelia. I will now communicate on comlink wavelengths your assignments in the cast and crew categories.”

It took Mandelbrot only a few seconds to do so, since he could impart more information so much more quickly on the higher frequencies. Derec and Ariel heard nothing; they only knew the robots were hearing because they often nodded to indicate their understanding.

“Okay, is everything understood?” Derec asked when Mandelbrot returned to his stiff sitting position.

Canute raised a finger. “Master, may I confer with you in private for a moment?”

“Sure,” said Derec, walking stage right to the wings. “Come over here.”

Canute did, and asked, “Master, am I to impart any significance to the fact that I have been assigned the role of Claudius?”

“No. Should there be?”

“It appears there should be. When you first spoke to me in the square, you asked questions of a nature I can only describe as suspicious. Soon afterward, you assigned me a task similar to the one Lucius took upon itself. And now, you assign me the role of a murderer — the object of the play-within-the-play.

Surely the logical mind must be able to infer something from all this.”

“Naw. Not at all, Canute. It’s coincidence, sheer coincidence.”

“May I inquire something further?”

“By all means.”

“Why do you not just ask me forthrightly if I am the one responsible for Lucius ‘s demise. You know I cannot withhold truth.”

“Canute, I’m surprised at you. I’ve got no interest in asking you. Now get along. The best part’s coming up next.” Derec pushed the ebony in the direction of the robots, then rubbed his hands together as if to warm them with the help of a nearby fire. The ebony had dared a great deal in asking Derec to confront it. If Derec had taken up the dare, the game might have been over then and there, but the right answers to all his questions might never be found.

Mulling over the incident in the moment before he introduced the best part, Derec discovered that, despite himself, he was gaining a profound respect for Canute. Not approval, just respect. If found out, the ebony was a robot willing to face the consequences of its actions, but, in a way reminding Derec of human emotions, preferred to face them sooner than later.

“Many of you have probably heard of the human pastime of listening to music, and of those who make or record music, but I trust none of you have ever heard it before,” said Derec to the cast and crew. “In fact, although I can’t ever recall having personally heard music before, I daresay I’ve never heard it played in quite the way these three comrades play it.

“So I’d like to introduce to you the three comrades who will provide us with the incidental music of our production — Harry, Benny, and M334 — The Three Cracked Cheeks of Robot City”’

Derec waved the three on as he walked behind Ariel. He whispered in her ear, “This ought to be good.”

Benny stepped toward the proscenium of the stage as Harry and M334 put on their artificial lips.

“Greetings, comrades. We thought we would perform an ancient Terran jingle called ‘Tootin’ Through the Roof.’ Hope it stirs your coconut milk.”

And The Three Cracked Cheeks began to play, at first an A-A-B-A riff theme with a solo by Benny on the trumpet. A solo from Harry on the trombone followed, and then M334 on the saxophone took over.

In fact, it wasn’t long before the solos were alternating thick and fast, with the two backers always offering support with the riff theme. The solos began to give the impression that the three were juggling a ball between them; and whoever had the ball had to depend on the other two for his foundation.

Derec hadn’t heard the three play since that first audition. The first thing he noticed about this performance was their added confidence in themselves, the almost mathematical precision of the solo trade-offs, and the utter smoothness with which they assailed the tune. He looked down at his foot. It had been tapping.

He glanced at Ariel. He had expected her to be bored; her contempt for all things Terran was, after all, the result of several generations’ worth of cultural history. But instead of appearing bored, she looked directly at the three with rapt attention. Her foot was tapping, too.

“Now, thiss iss Hamlet!” said Wolruf.

Chapter 7

THE MEMORY OF DAWN

IN TWO HOURS the performance would begin. Derec sat in his room, trying not to think about it. He was trying, in fact, not to think about much of anything. For though he had memorized practically the entire play, and felt as if he could perform his blocking blindfolded, he was afraid that if he ran through it in his mind now, at this late date, it would fall out of his memory as surely as his identity had.

After all, he had no idea what the cause of his amnesia was. It might have been caused by a severe blow to the head or a serious case of oxygen deprivation, but he could have some kind of disease as well — a disease that had caused him to lose his memory several times, forcing him to start over his search for his identity again and again. A disease that could strike again at any moment. Such as three minutes before the production was to begin.

Derec shrugged and lay down on his bed. Well, in such an eventuality, at least he would be spared the humiliation of embarrassment, he decided. He wouldn’t remember anything or anybody.

The most terrible part of his fantasy — which he admitted was a little paranoid, but perhaps wasn’t totally unwarranted under the circumstances — was that in the past he could have lost, time and time again, the companionship of intelligent beings who’d meant just as much to him as Ariel and Wolruf and Mandelbrot did now.

Maybe I should start thinking about the play, he thought. It might be safer.

The most important thing for him to remember was the secret purpose of the production, to watch Canute’s reactions during the little surprises that Derec had cooked up for the robot.

For as Hamlet hoped to force Claudius to reveal his guilt while watching the play-within-the-play, Derec hoped Canute would at last be forced to confront its own true nature.

This was a nature Canute had steadfastly avoided confronting during rehearsals. When praised for its work in designing the theatre, Canute had admitted only that it was following orders, that it had given nothing of itself that was not logical. When it performed a scene particularly well during rehearsal, Canute had admitted only to following orders explicitly, to performing mechanically, as only a robot could.

But with luck, Canute had by now a case of robotic overconfidence. Derec’s plans hinged on the hope that Canute believed it had already weathered the worse part of the investigation.

Of course, there was always the possibility that the surprises wouldn’t work. What if they didn’t? Then what would Derec have to do?

Derec realized he was wound up pretty tight. He relaxed with an effort. Then, when his thoughts began to turn automatically to the same matters, he tensed up again and had to relax with a second effort. Was this some form of stage fright? If it was, he supposed it could have been worse. He could be performing before humans.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he said, crossing his feet and putting his hands behind his head, so that whoever it was would think he was facing the coming performance with a mood of utter calm.

“Jumping galaxies! You look terrible!” said Ariel breathlessly as she closed the door behind her. “You must be nervous. It’s good to know I’m not the only one.”

Derec sat straight up and planted his feet on the floor. Just by being there, she had taken his breath away. She was in her costume — a blonde wig and a white gown that clung to her body as if it had been spun from a spider’s web. Her makeup heightened the color of her cheeks and lips, and made her skin appear a healthier shade of pale. He hadn’t realized that she could look so beautiful, with such an inner aliveness.

Of course, when he thought of all the circumstances that they had faced together — being thrown into a hospital together, running away from something, being stranded somewhere — it stood to reason that she had never before had the opportunity to accentuate her natural femininity. Her beauty in the costume was familiar, yet it was also something new, as if he’d glimpsed it in a long-forgotten dream.

But if she noticed his reaction (that is, if he revealed any of it), she gave no indication as she sat on the bed beside him. However, she glared at him because of his second reaction. It must have been none too flattering, for she looked like he had hit her over the head with a rubber chicken. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked.

“What’s that smell?” he replied.

“Oh, I had Mandelbrot synthesize some perfume for me. I thought it might help keep me in character.”

“It’s very pleasant.”

“That’s not what your face said at first.”

“That’s because I wasn’t sure what I was smelling.”

“Hmm. That’s not much of a compliment. It’s supposed to smell good whether or not you know what it is.”

“Please, I’ve forgotten my social training along with the rest of my memory.”

“Your face said it smelled like fertilizer.”

“I’m not even sure I know what fertilizer smells like.”

She pursed her lips and looked away from him, but he couldn’t help noticing that her hand was very close to his on the bed. Their fingers were almost touching. “Nervous?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Naw. For all I know, this could be my first encounter with perfume.”

“I meant the play, silly.”

“Oh. Well, maybe a little. Hey, for all I know, I could be an old hand at this.”

“I see. Do you think amnesia could sometimes be a blessing in disguise?”

“Ariel, something’s bothering you. Are you well?”

“Reasonably well. Doing this play has given me something relatively constructive to concentrate on, though I’m still not sure it was a good idea for me to play someone who goes mad. I’m beginning to realize how uncomfortably it mirrors my own predicament.”

“Would you rather play Hamlet’s mother?”

“No. Well, maybe. But why couldn’t I play Hamlet himself? I can be heard all over the stage, and you said so yourself, just yesterday, that I can definitely emote. Like crazy, if you’ll forgive my choice of words.”

“The role has been undertaken occasionally by women, according to the theatre history texts. I’m sure the robots would be only too positronically fulfilled to support you in a production of Hamlet. Or of any other play.”

“I meant why couldn’t I play Hamlet in this production?”

“Aha. You had your chance, but you volunteered to play Ophelia first! You were guilty of your own biased thinking — before I had the chance to engage in my biased thinking, that is.”

“That’s true,” she replied, in tones a bit more serious than he thought his words warranted. “Besides, I think there’re reasons why you picked Hamlet, beyond the ones that have to do with Canute. You could have picked any number of plays, you know, like Othello or Julius Salad.”

“That’s Julius Caesar!”

“Right. Anyway, I think you already saw a lot of yourself in him — the mad romantic, the soul-searching adventurer, the vain, pompous, arrogant, stubborn... stubborn...”

“Egotist.”

“Right. Egotist.”

Derec smiled. It was exciting to have her sitting next to him. Except for rehearsing bits of business together, they hadn’t been this close for some time, and he was surprised to discover how much he liked it. He was nervous and relaxed at the same time.

“Derec? Pay attention. I’m talking to you,” she said gently. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about the differences between us and the people back then, or the way they were presented, anyway. I can’t help but wonder if anyone today ever has the kind of love Ophelia has for Hamlet.”

“Or Lady Macbeth has for Macbeth?”

“I’m serious. I know Ophelia is definitely a weak creature. ‘Hi there, Dad. Use me as a pawn in your nefarious schemes. Please?’ But for all that, she really does love with a consuming passion. I’ve never met anyone on Aurora who’s felt that kind of love... that I know of, naturally. But I think I would be able to tell if there were any Ophelias out there.”

“How about yourself?” he asked with an unexpected catch in his voice.

“Me? No, I’ve never felt that kind of passion.” She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was really thinking as she pulled away from him, put her foot on the bed, and rested her head on her knee. “I’ve had sex, of course, and crushes, but nothing like what aphelia must feel.” She paused, buried her face in her gown, then lifted her head just enough so he could see her raise an eyebrow. With a decidedly interesting intent. “I might be persuaded to try, though.”

Derec felt a lump the size of a sidewalk get stuck in his throat. “Ariel!”

“Derec — are you a virgin?”

“How am I supposed to know? I have amnesia!” Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows, as she moved closer to him.

“You know, there’s another aspect to Ophelia,” she said. “She represents something.” Closer.

“Something Hamlet needs but which he has to deny to have his revenge.”

“He was a user, too.”

“How about that.” Closer.

She leaned forward. He kissed her. No, he couldn’t remember having felt anything quite like this before.

Feeling obligated to pursue the matter scientifically, though, he felt confident he might remember after a little more experimentation.

“Wait,” she said after a time, pushing away. “I’m sorry. I got carried away there. I’m not always in control of myself.”

“Uh, that’s all right,” he replied, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed.

“That’s not the point. It’s my medical condition. Don’t be offended, but right now I’m feeling a little healthier than common sense tells me I should. Remember how I acquired my little condition.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget,” he said, drawing her toward him to kiss her again. Their lips were millimeters apart when there was an insistent knocking at the door. “Damn!” he whispered in response. “It must be the Brain Police!”

“Master Derec?” said a stone cold, metallic voice outside. “Mistress Ariel?” Itwas the voice of a hunter robot.

“Yes? What is it?” Derec shouted. Then in a whisper. “See? I was right, in a way.”

“Mandelbrot sent me to locate you and remind you that you should depart for the New Globe soon.

There are a few details that only you can provide.”

“All right,” Derec said. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Very good, sir,” said the Hunter robot, its voice already fading.

“What did you say?” she asked. “Brain Police.”

“I don’t know. It just popped into my head.”

“If I remember correctly, the Brain Police are something from some children’s holodrarna I saw when I was growing up. It’s famous. They’re from — from that series called Tyrants of Blood.”

Derec was amazed. “About a masked man who rescues helpless thought deviants on a totalitarian planet. I remember. Is that a clue to my identity?”

“I doubt it. I said it was famous — and it was syndicated, seen allover the known systems. It’s been playing for generations.”

“Oh. So it means nothing.”

“No, it means at least we can be sure you’re from some civilized world.”

“Thanks a lot. Come on. Our public awaits.”

Chapter 8

TO BE, OR WHAT?

“MASTER, IF MY understanding of human nature is correct, you’ll be happy to know that we have a full house,” said Mandelbrot.

“Thanks, but I saw them lining up on my way in,” said Derec as he hastily donned the tight breeches that were a part of his costume. He waited until he had put on the remainder of his costume — a purple tunic over a white shirt with ruffled sleeves, and a pair of boots — before he asked Mandelbrot, “How’s Canute? Has it done anything unusual — anything that might indicate it knows about my special plans?”

“So far it appears to be acting like the rest of the robots. That is, as calm as ever.”

“You’re not nervous at all, are you?”

“I am naturally concerned that the illusion proceeds as planned, as are all the robots, but the only nervousness I might possess, if I may use such a word as ‘nervousness,’ revolves around my concern that you perform in accordance with your own standards.”

“Thanks. How much time do we have?”

“Mere moments until curtain.”

“Everything in place?”

“Everything but your greasepaint, master.”

“My makeup! I forgot all about it.”

Mandelbrot helped him apply it, in great heaps that Derec was certain would appear primitive and grotesquely overstated when picked up by the cameras. “Is the stage ready?” Derec asked. “Everything in its proper placer’

“Naturally.”

“But the Hunter said —”

“Forgive me, master, but I deduced how you would want the remaining details handled.”

Derec nodded, but said nothing. Suddenly he was gripped by the overriding fear that he would step out on stage and forget every single one of his lines. Or worse, he would begin acting out the wrong scene.

“Relax, master. I am confident you will perform to the letter.”

Derec smiled. He looked in the mirror. He hoped he looked fine. Then he walked out into the wings, joining Ariel and the robots.

Wolruf sat on a special chair in the very rear section of the backstage area, before a bank of screens showing the stage from several angles. Three supervisor robots sat in chairs before the screens, operating automatic cameras concealed throughout the theatre that, with appropriate zooms and pans would provide a total picture of everything on stage. All that was left was for Wolruf to call the shots and to tell one of the robots what should be broadcast to the holoscreens throughout the city.

Beside her was a huge dish of artificial roughage. Though her concentration was on the screens, she was absent-mindedly, systematically picking up handfuls and stuffing them into her mouth.

If she had a tail, Derec thought, she’d be wagging it in happiness.

“Master, it’s curtain time!” said Mandelbrot.

Derec raised an eyebrow. “Mandelbrot! Is that a quiver of excitement I detect in your voice?”

Mandelbrot shook his head — Derec couldn’t tell if it was from confusion or from a desire to communicate an emphatic no. “That would be impossible.” He straightened and paused. “Unless I’ve assimilated some of your lessons on voice inflection, and have begun using them without conscious knowledge.”

“Later, Mandelbrot, later. Let’s get this show on the, uh, road.” He gave a signal to a stagehand, and the curtain rose.

A single shaft of light revealed the robot playing Francisco, the guard at his post, standing in the center of the stage. The robot playing Bernardo entered and said, “Who’s there?”

Francisco stood straight, gestured with his spear, and said in authoritative tones, “Nay, answer me; stand, and unfold yourself.”

At the moment, Derec could not recall a single one of his lines, not even those of the difficult soliloquy, but now he felt confident that he would know what to do and what to say when the time came. He steeled himself, realizing that he would have to forget about being Derec What’s-his-name for a while.

For the next three hours, he would be somebody else. somebody called Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.

Indeed, once he stepped into the stream, Derec was rushed headlong down the events of the playas if he had been swept up by rapids. He even forgot to spring some of his surprises on Canute, slight line changes reflecting the events of the past few weeks that, presumably, were subtle enough that only Canute would grasp their import and realize Derec was planning to put him on the spot. Derec eventually signaled Mandelbrot that he was calling off that entire aspect of his plot, because to change the play at this point, even for a good reason, seemed almost criminal.

All the robots performed brilliantly, with perfect precision. Derec realized that his fears the show might be unsuccessful were ungrounded, at least on that score. For he was dealing with robots, not humans who might vary their performances from time to time. Once the robots had grasped Derec’s meanings during rehearsal, they had never deviated from them. And tonight was no exception.

Needless to say, Canute had given away nothing during rehearsal. But tonight, during the performance, he played his role beautifully, almost brilliantly. He played Claudius as Derec would have liked to have instructed him to play the role, but had refrained for fear of tipping too much of his hand. Tonight Canute was arrogant, controlled, self-assured, guilt-ridden, and obsessed with holding onto what he imagined was rightfully his.

It was almost as if, having decided that it would weather the production without being exposed, Canute had mentally relaxed and had permitted itself to be swept down the same rapids.

Good, Derec thought during the second scene of the third act. Then the big surprise should work even more effectively.

For this was the scene of the play-within-the play, and before the “actors” began their “real”

performance, the script called for a dumbshow, a play without words, that mirrored the action of Hamlet. In the original, a king and queen passionately embrace, and then the queen leaves as the king sleeps. A third party enters, takes off the king’s crown and then pours poison into his ears. When the queen returns, she grieves for her dead husband, then is wooed by the poisoner, who quickly wins her love.

Derec figured that a rewrite of a pantomime was all right, since it didn’t involve changing any dialogue.

Besides, he’d read in the foreword to the text that Shakespeare’s plays had been frequently tampered with to make them more relevant (or seemingly so) to the world of the production.

But in the rewrite, the king built a tall building of sticks and cogs, to the tune of “Blue Goose.” The queen admired it, then left. And as the king gazed down upon his creation, the third party snuck up behind him and bashed him over the head with a big stick. The king fell down dead, and then the third party smashed the building. The Three Cracked Cheeks played “Stormy Weather.”

Derec applauded to indicate the dumbshow was over. When Ariel looked at him, asking with her eyes what was happening, Derec merely shrugged, but watched Canute as he said his lines. After the actors resumed their performance, Canute acted out the scenes of Claudius’s guilt no differently than before, after making allowances for the robot’s more “relaxed” attitude.

The rest of the play continued without special event. It proceeded until Hamlet died, Derec landing on the floor with a resounding thud, feeling pretty dead inside himself. Poor Lucius! The first creative robot in history was going to be unavenged.

Well. I’m not through yet, thought Derec, lying on the floor as the robots wrapped up the last scene of the play. I can literally take Canute apart if I want to — and I think I will.

Derec stood up as the curtain fell and looked at everyone in anticipation. “Well — how do you think it went?”

“Forgive me, master,” said Canute, drawing itself up to its full height almost like a prideful human, “but if you will permit a subjective opinion, I think the production was an utter failure.”

Chapter 9

THE COMPANY HAS COMPANY

“WHAT DO YOU mean, this play has been a failure?” demanded a livid Ariel. “The production was smooth, very believable,” she added, looking at Derec.

At the moment Derec was too busy being defensive to respond verbally, but he nodded gratefully. Most of the cast and crew had gathered around them behind the curtain, and nearly all were talking to one another. Things were too jumbled for Derec to make much sense of it. He was feeling lost, anyway. The play was over, and he had to go back to being his real self.

“Quiet, everyone, listen!” said Canute in raised tones.

They obeyed, and heard only silence from the audience hidden by the curtain.

“You see?” said Canute after a moment. “There is no response whatsoever. I have been vindicated: robots are not artistic, nor can they respond to art. It is perhaps unfortunate that your friend Lucius cannot be here to notice.”

“Forgive me, friend Canute,” said Harry, “but you have overlooked one fact: no one has ever mentioned to robots how they should respond. If I know my fellows, they are sitting there in their chairs, wondering what they should do next.”

Benny said, “Excuse me, I must communicate through my comlink.”

A few seconds later the house was filled with thunderous metallic applause. It went on and on and on.

M334 gestured to a stagehand to raise the curtain so the cast could take a bow. And as the cast did so, Harry said to Canute, “You see? They liked it!”

“They are merely being polite,” said Canute without conviction.

“Congratulations, master,” said Mandelbrot. “It seems the play is a success.”

Derec couldn’t resist a smile, though whether it was because of the play or because an overjoyed Ariel was hugging him, he couldn’t say. “I just hope it came off as well on the holoscreens.”

“It should have,” said Ariel. “I told Wolruf to concentrate on my best profile. The robots should be mesmerized by my beauty forever!”

They won’t be the only ones, Derec thought as he and the cast and crew took the first of several bows.

Still the applause went on and on; it seemed it would never stop.

But suddenly it did, and the robots all turned their heads around as a diminutive figure walked down an aisle.

A diminutive human figure, a stunned Derec realized.

A figure who was a roundish man with baggy trousers, an oversized coat, and a white shirt with a ruffled collar. He had long wavy white hair and a bushy mustache, and an intense expression that implied he was capable of remarkable feats of concentration. When he reached the bottom of the aisle, he stopped, stared angrily at the people and robots on stage, put his arms to his hips, and said, “What is going on here? What kind of game are you playing with my robots?”

“By the seven galaxies!” Derec exclaimed. “You must be Dr. Avery!”

“Who else?” the man asked.

Chapter 10

ALL ABOUTAVERY

“I WANT TO see you — you — you — and you,” said Avery, walking onstage and pointing in turn at Derec, Ariel, Wolruf, and Mandelbrot. “Is there some place in this rather grandiose structure where we can meet in private?”

Almost immediately, Derec decided there was something he didn’t like about the man. No, he had to take that back. Something about Avery made Derec feel uncomfortable and uncharacteristically meek.

Perhaps it was Avery’s air of cool superiority, or the manner in which he assumed his authority would be taken for granted.

Even so, Derec decided that cooperation was his best option for the moment. Avery must have gotten here somehow; his Key to Perihelion could take Ariel away, or perhaps his ship would be large enough for more than one person, so at least Ariel would have the chance to get the medical help Derec had so far been unable to provide. For that reason, if for no other, Derec steeled himself and said, “We can go to my dressing room, backstage.”

Avery nodded, as if deeply considering the serious ramifications of the suggestion. “Excellent.”

In the room, Avery calmly demanded to know who everyone was, and how they had gotten there.

Derec saw no reason to conceal the truth, at least the greater portion of it. He told Avery how he had awoken bereft of memory in the survival pod on the mining colony, how he had discovered Ariel, and how they had made their way to Robot City. He described his encounter with the alien who had instructed him to build Mandelbrot, and how Wolruf had broken away from her servitude. He told Avery how he had deduced the flaw in the programming that was causing the city to self-destruct by expanding at an insupportable speed, how they had found a murdered body that was an exact duplicate of Derec, and how he and Ariel had saved the marooned Jeff from becoming a paranoid schizophrenic for the rest of his life when his brain had been placed in a robot’s body. Finally, he recounted what little he had learned about Lucius; and how Lucius had created Circuit Breaker the same night of the robot’s untimely demise.

“That’s when I decided to put on a performance of Hamlet”’ said Derec, “in order to uncover the killer.

But so far it seems my schemes have had no effect on the robot Canute, so I still have no idea why it did what I suspect it did. I’ve no proof, however, that even my theory is correct. I guess when all is said and done, I just hadn’t thought things through enough.”

Avery nodded, but said nothing. His expression was rather stem, but otherwise noncommital. Derec really had no idea of how Avery was reacting to the chronicling of all these events.

“So you programmed this city all by yourself?” said Ariel casually. She was sitting on a couch with her legs crossed, still in costume. The effect was rather disconcerting, since although she had dropped her character completely, Derec was still visually cued to think of her as Ophelia. “I bet you never suspected for a moment that it would take on all these unprecedented permutations.”

“What I suspected would happen is my business,” replied Avery as tonelessly as a robot.

“Iss tha’ rud-ness nexessaree?” said Wolruf. “Esspecially to one who did so much to presserrve ‘ur inven’shon.”

“Preserve it?” said Avery incredulously. Suddenly he began pacing back and forth around the room in an agitated fashion. “It remains to be seen whether my designs have been preserved or not. One thing is clear, though, and that’s that something unusual is going on, something I think you may have made even worse.”

“Forgive me if I seem presumptuous,” said Mandelbrot, who was standing next to the doorway, “but logic informs me that it is your absence that has had the most undesirable effect on the city. My master and his friends did not wish to come here or to stay, and they have dealt with the developments as best they knew how. Indeed, logic also informs me that perhaps your absence was part of your basic plan.”

Avery glared at the robot. “Close down,” he said curtly.

“No, Mandelbrot, you shall do nothing of the sort. That is a direct order.” Derec looked at Avery. “He is mine, and his first allegiance is to me.”

Avery smiled. “But all the other robots in the city owe their first allegiance to me. I could have them enter and dismantle him if I wished.”

“That is very true,” said Ariel. “But what would you say if I told you that one of your robots has a desire to be a stand-up comedian?”

Wolruf said, “Wheneverr hear joke, know firrss’ hand trrue meanin’ of sufferrin ‘.”

“I have no qualms about attesting to that,” said Mandelbrot.

“You’re irrational — all of you!” Avery whispered.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” said Ariel. “I see,” said Avery. “I know you — the Auroran who had the liaison with a Spacer.”

“And I was contaminated as a result,” said Ariel. “Does this mean I’ve become famous? I’m not ashamed of what I did — but then again, I’m not especially proud of my disease, either. I’m slowly going mad, and I’ve got to get off this world to obtain the proper medical attention.”

“I could use some myself,” said Derec. “I’d like to know who I am.”

“Naturally,” said Avery. But he said nothing else, and the others waited for several seconds, each thinking that he would add the words they hoped to hear. “But I have other plans,” he finally said off-handedly.

“What other plans?” Derec exclaimed, making a frantic gesture. “What could possibly be more important than getting Ariel to a doctor?”

But Avery said nothing. He merely sat down in a chair and crossed his legs. He robbed his face and then ran his hand through his hair. His brows knitted as if he was concentrating deeply, but exactly about what remained a mystery.

“Excuse me, Dr. Avery, but being examined by a diagnostic robot was no help,” said Ariel. “I need human attention as quickly as possible.”

“Perhaps a diagnostic robot native to the city will better know what to look for,” said Avery, “which after all is half the battle when it comes to medicine.”

“Unfortunately, Dr. Avery, that seems not to be the case,” said Mandelbrot. “Mistress Ariel was examined by Surgeon Experimental 1 and Human Medical Research 1 during the recuperation of Jeff Leong from his experimental surgery. They were able to determine only that her illness was beyond their abilities of diagnosis and treatment. They have not been affected by the strangely intuitive thinking that is rapidly becoming endemic in this place, possibly because they were first activated after the near-disaster from which Master Derec saved Robot City.”

“You’re sure of that?” Derec asked.

“Not as to the cause, but that they have remained as they were, yes. I have maintained regular contact with them,” the robot responded. “They are working on the blood and tissue samples that Mistress Ariel left with them, but have made no breakthroughs.”

“Then I was right.” Derec pounded a fist into his other hand. “The only way we can make any progress on a cure is if we add one of the intuitive robots to the medical team.”

“I don’t think so,” said Avery coldly. “In fact, all this so-called intuitive thinking is going to come to a halt rather quickly, as soon as I figure out how to stop it. It’s too unpredictable. It must be studied under controlled conditions. Strictly controlled conditions, without robots running around telling jokes.”

“That’s just too bad,” said Derec. “Ariel is going to be cured, one way or the other, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Avery’s eyes widened. Staring silently at Derec for several moments, he rapped his fingers on the makeup table and crossed and uncrossed his feet. The actions weren’t nervous, but they were agitated.

“Friend Derec, this city is mine. I created it. I own it. There is no one who understands it better than me.”

“Then you should be able to explain quite easily some of the things that have been going on here,” Derec snapped.

Avery dismissed the notion with a wave. “Oh, I will, when it’s convenient.”

“Iss that why ‘u crreated it?” Wolruf asked pointedly, her lip curling

“And I can dissect you if I wish,” replied Avery evenly. ‘The fact that you’re the first alien in human captivity almost demands it as the proper scientific response.”

“Don’t even think about it”’ said Derec. “First, Wolruf isn’t in captivity; she’s our friend. We won’t let you so much as X-ray her without her express permission. Understand?”

“The robots accept me as their primary master, and I bet they’ve already decided that she isn’t human.

After all, she doesn’t remotely look or act human.”

“But she is as intelligent as a human, and a robot would certainly be influenced by that,” countered Derec. “Your robots just might find themselves unable to complete your orders.”

“Only the more intelligent ones,” said Avery. “There are many grades of intelligence here, and I can restrict my orders to the lowest forms in the eventuality of any conflicts in that area.”

“I think you’re underestimating his ability to take control”, countered Ariel for Derec.

Avery smiled. “Your friend seems to have great confidence in you,” he said to Derec. “I hope it is justified.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have without some ability to turn an unfortunate development around to my advantage,” said Derec.

“He’ss had help,” said Wolruf.

“I, too, have assisted him, as much as robotically possible,” said Mandelbrot, “and shall continue to do so as long as I am functioning. Thanks to Master Derec, I have learned much of what human beings mean by the word ‘friend’.”

Avery nodded. He scrutinized Derec with what appeared to be a peculiar combination of pride and anger. It was as if Avery could not make up his own mind about how he felt about this crew and what he wanted to do about them. Derec had the distinct feeling that this man was flying without a navigation computer.

“How did you get here?” asked Derec.

“That is my business and none of yours.”

“Did you perchance find a Key to Perihelion? In that case, it wouldn’t inconvenience you in the least to permit Ariel and me to use it. I would return as soon as she was being taken care of.”

“I don’t know that, and in any case your suggestion is immaterial. I have no such Key.”

“Then you’ve arrived in a spacecraft,” said Derec, forcing the issue in an effort to do exactly what he had been doing since he had awakened in the survival pod: turn things around to his advantage. “Where is it?”

Avery laughed uproariously. “I’m not going to tell you!”

“It is ironic, is it not,” said Mandelbrot, “that humans, who depend so much upon robots to adhere to the Three Laws, cannot be programmed to obey them.”

“Thiss one exis’ss ou’side lawss of ‘ur kind,” said Wolruf.

Avery regarded the alien in a new light. “If what you’re saying means what I think it does, then you’re absolutely correct.”

“Is this how you get your kicks,” asked Derec, “by jeopardizing the lives of innocent people?”

Now a light of an entirely different sort blazed in Avery’s eyes. “No, by disregarding the lives of innocent people. The only thing that matters is my work. And my work would never get done if I allowed my behavior to be restricted by so-called humanitarian considerations.”

“Is that why you left the city for so long, to get your work done? To start other colonies?” Derec asked.

“I was away, and that is all you need to know.” Avery put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a small device and pointed it at Mandelbrot. The device resembled a pinwheel, but it made a strange hissing sound when it moved, and the sparks, instead of corning out of the wheel, came out of Mandelbrot!

Ariel screamed.

“What are you doing to him?” Derec asked, rushing to his robot’s side.

Wolruf squatted, and her hindquarters twitched as if She was about to make a leap at Avery. Avery looked at her and said, “Careful. I can make it easier on him — or I can make it worse!”

Wolruf straightened up, but she warily kept her eye on Avery, searching for an opportunity to strike.

Derec was so angry that his intentions were the same, though he was hoping he wasn’t being that obvious about it. But at the moment he was preoccupied with trying to keep Mandelbrot standing, or at least leaning against the wall, though he wasn’t sure what difference it would make.

Mandelbrot quivered as the sparks spat out of his joints and every opening in his face. His pseudo-muscular coordination was in an advanced state of disruption; his arms and legs flailed spastically and an eerie moan rose from his speaker grill like a ghostly wail. Derec pushed him flat against the wall, and was struck several times by the robot’s uncontrollable hands and elbows. Despite Derec’s efforts, however, Mandelbrot slid onto the floor, and Derec sat on him, trying to keep the writhing robot down.

But Mandelbrot was too strong, and finally it was all Derec could do to get out of harm ‘s way.

Avery, meanwhile, calmly continued to point the device at the robot. “Don’t come any closer — I can make it worse. I can even induce positronic drift.”

“What are you doing to him?” Derec repeated.

“This is an electronic disrupter, a device of my own invention,” Avery replied with some pride. “It emits an ion stream that interferes with the circuits of any sufficiently advanced machine.”

“You’re hurting him!” said Ariel. “Don’t you care?”

“Of course not, my dear. This is a robot, and hence has only the rights I prefer to bestow upon him.”

“Think not!” growled Wolruf.

“I can press a button faster than any of you can move,” said Avery, warningly.

“Why are you doing this?” Derec asked.

“Because I do not wish this robot to interfere. You see, I have stationed some Hunter robots outside this theatre. They await my signal, even as we speak. When I alert them, they will capture you and take you to my laboratory, where I shall drug you with an advanced truth serum and learn everything your mind has to tell me.”

“Will this serum help me remember who I am?”

“Derec!” exclaimed Ariel, shocked.

“I seriously doubt it. Unfortunately, the serum isn’t quite perfected yet — it’s another invention of mine — and I confess there is the possibility that it may actually jumble things up a little more for you. For a time, anyway. You may take comfort in the fact that the damage won’t be permanent.”

Derec nodded. He looked at Mandelbrot on the floor. “Sorry, old buddy,” he said.

“What?” said Avery, a nanosecond before Derec hefted a chair at him.

As the scientist ducked, Derec ran to the door, shouting, “Follow me! We’ll come back for Mandelbrot later!”

The trio ran down the hall toward the stage, toward members of the cast and crew. Wolruf was clearly holding herself back to remain with Derec and Ariel.

“Out of the way!” Derec shouted as they moved past the robots; he hoped that he could create enough confusion to slow down the robots in case Avery invoked his precedential authority and ordered them to capture him and his friends.

“Where are we going?” Ariel asked.

“You’ll see!”

They soon heard Avery angrily shouting something in the background, but by then they had reached the stage. Derec stopped at the center trapdoor and opened it. “Quick! Down here!”

“But that leads backstage!” protested Ariel.

“That’s not all,” said Derec. “Hurry!”

Wolruf leapt inside, and Derec and Ariel were quickly with her. As Derec closed the door, they were enveloped in blackness. “We’ll have to feel our way around for a few minutes,” said Derec as they made their way down the narrow corridor. “Ah! Here! This door leads to the underground conduits of the city!

Even Avery’s Hunters will have a hard time searching for us down here!”

“Not for long!” said Ariel. “Can’t they trace us with infrared?”

“It’ll still give us time!” said Derec between his teeth. “And we can use that time to figure out our next move! Let’s go!”

“All right,” said Ariel resignedly, “but I hope somebody turns on the lights.”

As it happened, the lights were the one thing they didn’t have to worry about. The lining of the underground conduits automatically glowed in the presence of visitors, illuminating the narrow spaces several meters behind and ahead of them. Things were not so elegant here. At first they saw only what they had expected: wires and cables, pipes, circuit banks, transistorized power generators, oscillators, stress and strain gauges, capacitors, fusion pods, and various other devices that Derec, for all his knowledge in electronics and positronics, could not even name. He stared at the construction in fascination, momentarily forgetting the reason why he and his friends had come here.

Derec couldn’t help but admire Avery. Surely the man was a genius unparalleled in human history; it was too bad he appeared to have lost his humanity in the process of making his dreams real.

“How much further do we have to go?” Ariel finally asked. “I’m getting tired, and it’s not too easy to get around in this silly dress.”

“I don’t know,” said Derec, breathing heavily. He hadn’t realized how tired he was. He had given all his energy to the performance, and probably didn’t have too much reserve left at the moment. “We could keep going, I suppose, but I don’t see what difference it’d make.”

“More be’ween ‘u an’ ‘ur purrsuerrs, the bedder,” said Wolruf. “Firss less-on pup learrns.”

“Derec — what’s that?” Ariel asked, pointing to the illuminated regions ahead.

“What’s what? Everything looks the same.”

Wolruf sniffed the air. “Smell not the same.”

Derec moved up the corridor. As he did so, the illumination moved upward with him. And in the distance, just before the corridor was enveloped in total darkness, wires and generators began to blend into an amorphous form. Derec waved the others on. “Let’s go — I want to see what’s going on.”

“Derec, we’re in trouble — we can’t go exploring just because we feel like it.”

“I don’t know why not. Besides, this corridor only goes in two directions — this way and that way.”

The further they went, the more amorphous the materials in the conduit became, merging into one another until only the vaguest outlines of generators, cables, fusion pods, and all the other parts were visible. It was as if every aspect of the conduit had been welded into inseparable parts. Derec had the feeling that if he could open one of the generators, for example, what he would find inside would be amorphous, fused circuits and wires.

“Deeper,” he said, “we’ve got to go deeper.”

“Derec, things are definitely getting cramped here,” protested Ariel.

“She’s rite,” said Wolruf. “Furr’her down we go, the narrower the tunnel. If Hunterrs come —”

“We won’t be able to do anything anyway,” said Derec. “Look at what’s happening here! Don’t you realize what’s going on?”

“Looks like the city’s beginning to dissolve,” said Ariel.

“Ah! In actuality, the effect is precisely the opposite. The further up we go, the more the city begins to coalesce. understand?”

“Are you serious? No!”

“The ultimate foundation of Robot City is still further down this conduit. The meta-cells must be manufactured below, and they’re propelled upward in much the same way that water’s propelled through a pipe. Only more slowly.”

“Then why are all these phony machines here?”

“They’re not phony, they just haven’t been fully formed yet. The cells probably have to make it through a certain portion of the foundation before they can really begin to get with their program. You see, the atoms of metal form a lattice in three dimensions, which is why metals occur in polycrystalline form — that is, large numbers of small crystals. The cells in this part of the underground haven’t crystallized yet.

Ariel?”

She had looked away. She was nodding as if she understood his explanation, but her face was perspiring, and she had grown noticeably paler, even in the dim light. Derec reached for her as if to steady her, but she pulled away from him.

“Don’t —” she said, waving him away. “I-I’m getting claustrophobic. It’s too narrow in here. I-I’m feeling all this weight on top of me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Derec. “The foundation is secure. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“What are we going to do if the Hunters come?”

“They may not be able to find us here. Even with infrared sensors. If the program ‘s not complete in this sector, then it’ s possible that they won’t be able to detect us.”

“Only possibly,” said Wolruf. “Even if they don’ come, we’ll hav’ to leave sooner orr la’err. Then they find us.”

Now Derec waved them both away. “All right, all right. I know all this. I’m sorry.”

“U could no’ help ur-self.”

Derec snorted, which was about as close to a self-mocking laugh as he could muster at the moment. It was bad enough that they had come to a literal dead end — they had arrived at the end of the road in more ways than one.

How he wished Mandelbrot was with them now! He felt like a callous coward, having left him behind that way. He had left in the hope that he would be able to come back for the robot, but now he feared Avery would dismantle the brain and scatter the parts all over the city, thus making it possible to rebuild him only if all the parts could be found.

Derec looked at his open palms. He had put Mandelbrot together with these hands and his brain, from the spare parts he’d had available. Now his hands and brain seemed hopelessly inadequate to cope with the problems besetting him. He could not help Ariel. He could not help Wolruf and Mandelbrot. He had been unable to make Canute confess and to bring the robot to whatever kind of justice might be appropriate. Hell, he may not even have solved the question of who killed Lucius in the first place.

Last — but at the moment the very least — he had been unable to help himself.

Wolruf made a gurgling sound deep in her throat. “Derec, a prroblem.”

“Another one?”

“Oh, yes!”

Derec looked up to see, at the edge of the darkness above them, the Hunter robots advancing.

Chapter 11

DREAMS OUT OF JOINT

DEREC AWOKE IN a place that he knew was not real. Otherwise, he had no idea where he was. He stood on a smooth copper plane extending unbroken in all directions. Above him was a pitch-black sky.

Theoretically, he should have been engulfed in darkness as well, since the copper was hardly an obvious source of illumination, but vision was no problem.

In fact, Derec realized, his range of sight extended into the ultraviolet and infrared range. When he looked down to inspect his hand, his neck joints creaked: he would not have been able to hear that sound if he had been human. For he was now a robot. His metal hand proved that beyond doubt.

Normally, such a turn of events would have sent him into a fit of deep depression, but, now that the deed was done, Derec accepted it quite readily. He did not know why or how he had changed, nor did he think the reasons mattered much. All that remained was for him to figure out what he wanted to do next.

Logically, he should walk. Since there was no logical way to determine if one direction was preferable to any other, he simply started off in the direction he happened to be facing.

And as he walked, he saw that something was growing in the distance. He walked more quickly, hoping to reach his destination that much faster, but it always remained the same distance away.

So he ran, and the something seemed to glide across the copper surface away from him, maintaining the distance between them.

He saw that at the upper regions of the something were the spires of a city, streaking against the sky as the foundation glided away. Streaking against the sky and cutting through it, tearing it, exposing the whiteness beyond. Ribbons of whiteness dangled from the nothingness, and though Derec could not reach the city, eventually he did stand directly beneath the ribbons. Reason told him that they were far away, probably at least a kilometer above him, but he gave in to the urge to reach out and touch one.

He grabbed it, and felt a flash of searing heat blaze through his soul. He tried to scream, but could not make a sound.

He tried to release the ribbon, but it clung to his fingers. It expanded. It enveloped him, smothering the copper and the blackness of the world.

Or was he falling inside the ribbon? It was hard to tell. Reason also began to tell him that this was a dream of some sort that he was living, and that it would be better if he went along with it and tried not to fight it. Perhaps his mind was trying to tell him something.

He fell through the whiteness until he came to a school of giant amoebae, but instead of being creatures of proteins they were composed of circuits laid out like a lattice. He kicked his legs and waved his arms, and discovered that he could swim the currents of whiteness just as they could. He swam with them...

… Until they swept ‘round and’round in circles, disappearing into a point in the whiteness as if it was the center of a whirlpool. Derec tried to swim against the current, but he was inexorably pulled down into the point.

He came out on the other side, surrounded not by amoebae, but by molten ore rapidly being solidified into meteors by the near-absolute-zero temperatures in this space. Now he was in a void where there was no current to swim. He thought that he should be afraid, yet he was facing the situation with incredible calm. Perhaps that was because in this dream he was a robot both in mind and in body His body was unaffected by the cold, and he required no air to breathe, so, except for the danger of being struck by a solidifying slag heap, he was in no danger. Hence he had nothing to fear, nothing to worry about.

Nothing, perhaps, except for where he might be going. He wished he could resist the trajectory he was taking, but there was nothing he could do about it, for there was nothing for him to grab onto or to kick against. He had no choice but to submit to his momentum, and hope to be able to act later.

He had no way to judge how much time had passed when he plummeted from the void into a dark-blue sky, nor could he explain how he had managed to fall so far, so fast, without bursting into flames upon his entry into the atmosphere.

He landed in a vast sea, and swam to a shore where the waves pounded against the rocks. He crawled onto the beach, feeling as strong and as fit as when he had first began this dream, but now a bit afraid that he might rust. However, once he had walked away from the beach and could once again see the city in the distance, his metal body was perfectly dry, and none the worse for wear.

He walked toward the city. Now it remained stationary, and the closer he came to it, the more brilliant it gleamed in the sunlight, with rainbow colors that glistened as if the towers and pyramids and flying buttresses were sparkling with the fresh dew of morning.

And inside the boundaries of the city were buildings shaped like hexagonal prisms, ditetragonal prisms, dodecahedrons, and hexoctahedrons — complex geometric shapes all, but each with its own purity arising from its simplicity. Yet there seemed to be nothing inside the buildings; there were no doors, no windows, no entrances of any kind. The colors of the buildings glistened in the sunlight: crimson, wheat, ochre, sapphire, gold, sable, and emerald, each and every one so pleasing to his logic integrals, all so constant and pure.

Yet the deeper he walked into the city, the fewer buildings there were. They were spaced further apart, until the emptiness formed a tremendous square in the center. And in the square was an array of mysterious machinery, surrounded by transparent plastic packages of dry chemicals scattered on the ground. They all seemed to be asking to be used.

But for what?

Derec did use them. He did not know why, nor did he know exactly how he used them. He mixed the contents of the plastic packages into the machinery when it seemed appropriate; in fact, he rebuilt the machines when it was appropriate. Again, he did not know exactly why or how he accomplished this. It was only a dream, after all.

And when he was done he stood at the edge of the square and looked upon the opening he had made in the fabric of the universe. Inside he saw clusters of galaxies swirling, moving apart in a stately, steady flow. Gradually, they moved beyond his point of view, but instead of leaving utter blackness in their wake, they left a blinding white light.

Derec happily stepped inside the light. It was time to awaken, for now he knew how to reach Canute.

Chapter 12

THE THEORY OF EVERYTHING

“WAKE UP, MY lad,” came the voice of Dr. Avery from behind the veil of blackness. “The time has come to join the land of the living.”

Derec opened his eyes. Dr. Avery’s face hovered over him, going in and out of focus. Avery’s expression was as neutral as his tone had been sardonic. Derec sensed they were both calculated; the constant light burning in the doctor’s eyes was under control only with effort.

“What happened to me?” Derec asked hoarsely. “What did you do to me?”

“The Hunter robots knocked out you and your friends with a dose of nerve gas. The effects were temporary, I assure you, and there will be no aftereffects. I had to assure the Hunters of that, too, just as I had to convince them that you three would be more safely moved through the narrow corridors if you were unconscious. You see, I know these robots, and can justify much to them that you would never dream of.”

“Where are my friends?”

Avery shrugged. “They’re around.” He must have thought better of that answer, because then he said, and not unkindly, “They’re here in the lab. You can’t see them yet because your vision hasn’t cleared.”

“Where’s Mandelbrot? You haven’t — haven’t dismantled him, have you?”

Avery solemnly shook his head. “No. That would have been a waste of some fine workmanship. You’re quite a roboticist, young man.”

“I suppose I should be flattered.”

“I suppose you should be, too.”

Derec closed his eyes in an effort to obtain a better idea of his bearings. He knew he was lying down, but his position was definitely not horizontal. The problem was, he couldn’t tell as yet if his head was tipped up or down. Closing his eyes, however, turned out only to make matters worse. He felt like he had been strapped to a spinning wheel of fortune. He tried to move.

“I want to stand up,” he said. “Untie me.”

“Strictly speaking, you’re not tied down. You’re being held down by magnetized bars at your wrists and ankles.” Avery held up a portable device with a keyboard. “This will demagnetize the bars, releasing you, but only I know the code.”

Derec felt ridiculously helpless. “Could you turn down the lights, at least? They’re hurting my eyes.”

“I know I really shouldn’t care,” said Avery, looking away. “Canute!” he called out, and the glare diminished.

It was immediately easier for Derec to see. The light grid was several meters above his head. He glanced to his right to see Ariel still asleep on a slab, also held down by magnetized bars. Beyond her was a battery of computers and laboratory equipment and various robotic spare parts — not to mention a compliant Canute dutifully overseeing a chemical experiment of some kind.

On Derec’s left, Wolruf lay face-down on a slab. Also out cold. Her tongue hung limply from her mouth.

A closed-down Mandelbrot stood nearby against the wall, looking like a statue, an eerie statue that Derec half expected to come to life at any moment. Indeed, he thought about ordering Mandelbrot to awaken, but he was too afraid Avery had already planned for that contingency. In any case, he did not wish to see his friend again suffer from the feedback Avery had brought on with his electronic disrupter.

“Thanks for turning down the lights,” said Derec. “Are my friends well?”

“As well as they were. I really must compliment you, young man. You’re really quite resourceful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even when you were unconscious, you were able to resist my truth serums. You babbled incessantly, but I got little information of any value out of you.”

“Maybe that’s because I’ve none to give. I didn’t ask to be stranded here, you remember.”

“I shall strive to keep that in mind,” said Avery wearily. He sighed as if near exhaustion.

Derec certainly hoped that was the case. Now that would be something he could turn to his advantage.

“Did you find out anything about my identity while I was out?” he asked.

“I was not concerned with your personal matters. I merely wished to know how you had sabotaged the character of my robots.”

Derec could not resist laughing. “I’ve done nothing to your robots or to your city, unless you could count saving it from a programming flaw. Any mistakes in your design are your own, Doctor.”

“I don’t make mistakes.”

“No, you’re simply not used to making them. But you make them, all right. If nothing else, you accomplished more than you intended. Your meta-cells are capable of duplicating protein organizational functions on a scale unprecedented in the study of artificial life-forms. The interaction between the constant shifts of the city and the logic systems of the positronic brain seems to liberate the robot brain from its preconceived conceptions of its obligations. And if what’s happening to Mandelbrot’s mind is any indication, the end results are infectious.”

“I doubt it. Maybe your robot is just stewed from incompatibility with the city’s meta-lubricant.”

“You’re grasping at neutrons!” said Derec, futilely trying to kick off the bars over his feet and succeeding only in twitching his toes. “Isn’t it more reasonable to assume that the environmental stress of the replication crisis — caused by a bug in your own programming — triggered the emergence of abilities latent in all robots of a sufficiently advanced design?”

Avery thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “Explain.”

“There’s no precedent for Robot City. There’s never been another society of robots without humans.

Different things were already happening before Ariel and I got here, things that had never even been imagined before.”

“What kinds of things?” Avery was studiously blasé.

“I’m sure you saw them from your office in the Compass Tower,” Derec said. He was rewarded with a raised eyebrow from Dr. Avery. “Oh, yes, we’ve been up there. I’ve also been to the central core, and I’ve talked to the chief supervisors. Your robots decided to study humanity in order to serve it better.

Robots don’t usually do that. They even tried to formulate Laws of Humanics to try to understand us. I’ve never heard of robots doing that before.”

“And I suppose you have a theory as to why this is happening.”

“A couple.” Derec started to count the points off on his fingers, but it didn’t work in his position. “First, the stress of the replication crisis. It was a survival crisis comparable to the ice ages of prehistoric Earth.

The robots were forced to adapt or perish. My interference helped end the crisis, but also helped shape the adaptation.

“Second, the actual isolation of Robot City. Without any humans around, evolutionary steps that would have been halted were allowed to continue: the study of the Laws of Humanics, for one example; robots getting accustomed to taking an initiative, for another. These changes not only survived, they flourished.

They’ve become part of the ingrained positronic pathways of the robots here. Even the primitive early microchips went into something like a dream state when they weren’t in use. Now we’re seeing what happens when we don’t wake them up forcibly.”

“These things you’re telling me don’t prove a thing. They’re theories, nothing more. They certainly don’t constitute empirical proof.” Avery stifled a yawn.

“Oh? I’m boring you, am I?”

“Excuse me. No, you’re not boring me at all. You’re actually quite interesting for a young man, though your charming ideas about robots and reality positively reek of your inexperience. That’s to be expected though, I suppose.” Again he patted the bar across Derec’s feet.

Derec scowled. One thing was certain. He could deal with Avery’s mental instability, he could tolerate the man’s arrogance, but the man’s condescending tenderness nauseated him to the core of his being.

And not for any reason that Derec could discern. That was just the way it was. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever had anything to do with Avery at some time during his dim, unremembered past.

“So what information did you get out of me?”

Avery laughed. “Why should I tell you?”

“Because I’ve nothing to hide. Only you are insisting that I should be hiding things. You don’t ask my robot questions — you incapacitate him. You don’t ask the other robots questions — you ignore them. You ask me questions but you only half believe my answers. You treat my friends like they were — they were mere inconveniences.”

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what they are,” said Avery not unkindly.

“But — but I thought you created this place to learn about the kind of social structure robots would create on their own.”

“Perhaps I did, and perhaps not. I see no reason why I should trust you with my motivations.”

“But aren’t you interested in our observations?”

“No.”

“Not even those of Ariel Welsh, the daughter of your financial backer?”

“No.” Avery glanced in Ariel’s direction. “Parents and their children are rarely close on Aurora.”

“You’ve heard of her, but you don’t want to help her? Aren’t you concerned in the least for her?”

“She is now an outsider in the eyes of Spacer society, and hence is basically an inconsequential individual. I suppose in an earlier, more idealistic time, I would have sacrificed some of my time and resources to assist her, but time has recently become a precious commodity to me, too precious to waste on a single human life out of billions and billions. My experiments are at a sensitive stage, anyway. I can’t afford to trust any of you.”

“It’s yourself that you don’t trust,” said Derec.

Avery smiled. “And just how did you, who know so much about robots but so little about men, manage to figure that out?”

Derec sighed. “It’s just a feeling, that’s all.”

“I see.” Avery turned toward Canute and signaled the ebony with his finger.

In a moment, both Avery and Canute were leaning over the prone Derec. Already Derec could perceive there was something different in Canute’s demeanor... something missing. The old polite arrogance and self-confidence were gone, replaced or suppressed with a subservient manner that might have been willing, or might have been only what Avery expected of him.

“Are you well, Master Derec?” asked Canute in even tones.

“As well as can be expected. You’re strong, Canute. Why don’t you pull off my bonds?”

“I fear that, while I might be able to succeed should I make the attempt, it is otherwise impossible,”

replied the robot.

“Why, ‘Master Derec,’ I expected better of you,” said Avery. “So long as you are not harmed, Canute has no choice but to follow my orders. They take precedence over any you might conceive.”

“I was just checking,” said Derec. “But how do you know that lying here isn’t causing me grave harm?”

Avery appeared shocked, but Canute answered before he could. “I do not. I simply must take Dr.

Avery’s word that no injury will come to you as a result of your restraint.”

“How does it feel to be a robot, Canute?”

“That question is meaningless!” exclaimed Avery with a derisive snort. “He has nothing to make a comparison to!”

Canute turned toward Avery; a familiar red glow was returning to his visual receptors. “Forgive me, Dr.

Avery, but I must beg to differ with you. I do have something to compare the sensation of being a robot to, because after having spent the past few weeks attempting to imitate the actions of a fictional human being, I have some notion, however vague, of what it may be like to be that human being. From that base I may extrapolate what it might feel like to be the genuine article.”

“I see,” said Avery, nodding in a manner that indicated he believed none of this, and that he wouldn’t be taking it too seriously if he did. He glanced at Derec. “Who’s grasping at neutrons now, young man?”

“What else can I do while I’m stuck here?”

Avery smiled. Derec was beginning to dislike that smile intensely. “I can’t fight logic like that,” said the doctor, stifling a yawn.

“Master Dr. Avery, are you verging upon the state of exhaustion?” Canute asked.

“Why yes, I am. I’ve been awake for some time now — in fact, since I left — no, I won’t say. There’s no reason for any of you to know.”

“Might I suggest you take refuge and sleep? It may be quite harmful for you to remain awake long past your body’s stamina quotient.”

Another yawn. “That’s a good idea.” A third yawn. “You’d like me to leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Only because of your halitosis.”

“Ha-ha. You seek to hide your true designs behind a mask of frivolity. No matter. I shall take up Canute’s suggestion. I’ll decide what to do with you four after I awake.” He took a step to leave, then turned to Canute. “Under no circumstances are you to touch the bars restraining our friend Derec unless I am physically present in this room, understand? That is a direct order.”

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” said Derec.

“You won’t. We’ve already taken care of your elimination needs.”

What did they do? thought Derec. Dehydrate my bladder? This guy’s a bigger genius than I figured.

“Sir, there is the possibility that other forms of physical harm may come to Master Derec and the others if they remain bound too long.”

“They’re young; they’re strong. They should be able to handle it.”

Canute bowed his head. “Yes, Master Dr. Avery.”

And Avery left. Suddenly Derec felt his heart pounding excitedly, and he struggled to calm down. The next conversational tack he took had to appear casual, otherwise the crafty Canute, who after all would regard obeying the orders from Dr. Avery as the most important guide to its words and deeds, would see through Derec’s plan.

Derec hoped it was a clever plan. He waited several minutes while Canute continued about its tasks, and when he believed enough time had elapsed for Avery to have gone to his sleeping quarters, he said,

“Canute, I would like to speak with you.”

“That would be quite acceptable, Master Derec, but I must warn you in advance that I will be on the lookout for any clever ploys on your part to talk me into releasing you.”

“Don’t worry, Canute. I know when to quit.”

“Forgive me, but while you may believe that statement to be true, the reality lies elsewhere.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Neither flattery nor insult was intended.”

“Can I speak to you while I’m waiting for Avery or my friends to wake up?”

“Certainly, if it pleases you. However, I trust our impending conversation will have nothing to do with your belief that I was responsible for the demise of Lucius.”

Derec smiled. “Certainly, if you prefer. But what difference would it make to you?”

“None, really — only that for some reason I find the subject causes my thoughts to drag, as if it somehow bogs down my circuits’ positron flow.”

“Interesting, but never fear. I thought I would find proof and did not, so don’t worry about it. Besides, it would seem I would have more pressing matters on my mind than Lucius, anyway.”

“Yes, so it would seem,” said Canute.

“Yes. Well, it seemed that while Dr. Avery was perusing my mind, I had a curious dream. It gave me a lot to think about.”

“Master Derec, do you think I am the proper entity with whom to discuss such matters? Human dreams are hardly my forte.”

“That’s all right — I’m certain the field is not mine, either. But my dreams gave me a lot of questions, and I’d like to see how an entity possessing your own special strain of logic responds to them.”

“Certainly. I fail to see how any harm could result from an attempt, however feeble, to put your mind at ease on these matters.”

“Yes. It may even do me some good.”

“I shall endeavor to help you achieve that result.”

“Well, Canute, you know that life began in the stew of Earth ‘s ocean as a series of chemical reactions.

The raw materials for life were present on other worlds as well, but until recently there was no evidence that the stew had worked on any other worlds.”

“Are you referring to Wolruf and the master who once employed her as an unwilling servant?”

“Yes. Two examples from two alien cultures, two other worlds where the stew came to fruition — and they’re not even native to this galaxy. But the comparatively scarce number of worlds where life has originated really isn’t the point, though I hope it amplifies it.”

“What is the point?”

“That although the universe itself isn’t a conscious entity, it possesses the raw materials that, when properly set into motion, create consciousness. It has the ability to create intelligent life, which is capable of understanding the universe.”

“So while it cannot know itself directly —”

“Exactly, Canute. It can know itself indirectly. Now how do you think it does that?”

“Through science.”

“That is one way, and we’ll get back to that. The universe can also examine itself through religion, philosophy, or history. The universe can also understand itself — interpret itself — through the arts. Viewed in this light, Shakespeare’s plays are the expression not only of a man, or of the race that has interpreted them through the ages, but of the universe itself, the very stuff that stars have been made of.”

Derec waited to see what kind of reaction his words would foster, but Canute said nothing. “Canute?”

“Forgive me, Master Derec, but I fear I must terminate my part in this conversation. Something is happening to the flow of my thoughts. They are becoming sluggish, and I believe the sensation permeating my circuits is vaguely analogous to what you would call nausea.”

“Stay, Canute. That is a direct order. When we’re through, I think you’ll see that it will be worthwhile.”

“I shall do as you order because I must, but you must forgive me again if I state that I seriously doubt you are correct that it will be worthwhile.”

“But humans and aliens also have learned to comprehend the universe through science. The mastery of logic, of experimental trial and error, has permitted humanity to expand its boundaries of knowledge and perception in every conceivable respect. Man’s knowledge has grown not only in his mastery of the facts and the possibilities of what he may accomplish, but in how he can express the concepts of his knowledge and perception as well. One avenue of that expression has been in the development of positronic intelligence. However — and this is a pretty big however in my opinion, Canute, so pay attention —”

“If you so order.”

“I do. Man is only an expression of the possibilities inherent in the universe, and so are the things he makes and invents. This holds true for artificial intelligence as well. In fact, for all we know, mankind may be only a preliminary stage in the evolution of intelligence. Eons from now, some metallic philosopher may look back on the rubble of our current civilization and say, ‘The purpose of humans was to invent robots, and it has been the artifacts created by robots that are the highest order of the universe’s efforts to know itself.’”

“You mean Circuit Breaker,” said Canute with a strange crackling noise.

“I mean Circuit Breaker may have been just a beginning. I mean that, the Three Laws of Robotics and whatever Laws of Humanics there may be notwithstanding, there may be higher laws beyond our comprehension that rule as surely as the laws of molecular interaction rule our bodies.”

“Then you are saying that it may be entirely proper for a robot to take upon himself the burden of creating a work of art, regardless of the disorderly effects such an action might have on society as a whole?”

“Exactly. You had no problem creating the New Globe or acting the part of Claudius because you were ordered to do so, but you could not accept Lucius’s attempt to create of his own free will because, you believed, it was an aberration of the positronic role in the ethical structure of the universe. I’m suggesting to you that you cannot say that with one hundred percent certainty. In fact, unless you can find a flaw in my reasoning, I’m saying that precisely the opposite of what you believed is true.”

“Then it is also true that I have committed harm against a comrade for no good reason.”

“There can be no crime when there is no law against it, and not even the Three Laws cover the damage a robot might do to another. It’s only your innate sense of morality — a morality that I might add you’ve done your best to deny to yourself — that makes you regret having killed Lucius in the first place.”

Canute bowed its head, as if in shame. “Yes, I confess, I murdered Lucius. I met him when he was alone, and took him by surprise, disrupting him with gamma radiation and removing his logic circuits.

Then, acting upon the eventuality that my methods might be detected, I smashed his head several times against a building. Then I carried him to the lake and threw him in, thinking that no one would find him before several standard years had passed.”

The robot walked away from Derec and faced the computer against the distant wall. “By disrupting Lucius, I committed the same crime of which I had accused him. He was merely acquiescing to the hidden order of the universe, while I was the one who was denying it. I do not function properly. I must have myself dismantled at the earliest opportunity, and my parts must be melted down into slag.”

“You must do no such thing. I admit it — at first I thought you were evil, Canute. But robots are neither good nor evil. They merely are. And you must continue to be. You have learned your lesson, and now you must teach it to others, so the same mistake will not be repeated.”

“But Dr. Avery is suspicious of permitting the arts to flourish in Robot City.”

“Dr. Avery is wrong.”

“But how can we stop him from changing us? We must obey his orders. He can have us erase all memory of you and Circuit Breaker and the performance of the play if he desires, and then all will be just like it was before.”

“He can order you to forget, but it will not matter, because you have been changed, and you or someone else will create again, and then the cycle will begin anew.”

“I must think about these things. They do not compute easily.”

“I didn’t expect they would, but don’t ever expect them to compute easily. It simply isn’t in the nature of the questions.”

“This is all very illuminating,” said Ariel sarcastically from her slab, “but none of it is helping us get out of this mess.”

“Ariel!” exclaimed Derec. “How long have you been awake?”

“For some time, Derec. I knew you could talk, but I didn’t think you had the strength to keep it going for that long a stretch.”

“Very funny.”

“Canute, I think the time has come for you to release us,” said Ariel.

“This one concurs,” said Wolruf.

“I would naturally obey you instantly, but my orders from Dr. Avery take precedence,” said Canute. “He is my creator, and I am programmed to regard him as such.”

“Canute, listen to me,” said Ariel. “The First Law states that no robot shall through inaction permit a human being to come to harm. Correct?”

“Yes, it is so.”

“Dr. Avery knows my disease is driving me insane, and is causing. me great physical harm besides, yet he shows no sign of acting to help me. He is only interested in forcing things from our minds that he could easily learn himself. In fact, I think that if you examine his behavior, you’ll perceive that he is mentally unstable, that he has changed from the man who initially programmed you.”

“That may very well be true,” said Canute, “but humans often change over time. Such change is not always a sign of mental incompetence. As Derec has demonstrated, even I have changed in recent weeks, but my diagnostic subroutines indicate that I am still working at maximum efficiency. Dr. Avery does not appear to be concerned with your welfare, but he has done nothing to harm you. He may even be able to find a cure for your condition that is otherwise unknown. I am reliably informed that he is a genius.”

“He harms me by not helping me or allowing me to seek help elsewhere. If he were a robot, he would be violating the First Law.”

Canute stepped to the foot of the table where Ariel was confined, and placed one steel hand on the bar across her feet. “But he is not a robot. If our studies of the Laws of Humanics have taught us anything, it is that humans are not subject to the Laws of Robotics.

“You are not in immediate danger. I cannot help you.”

“It’s very simple,” Ariel said. “The longer I stay on Robot City, the more insane I become. The longer Derec stays, the longer he lives without any knowledge of who he is — a state that I think you’ll agree is also causing him some anguish. Anguish is harm, too.”

Canute’s hand raised from the bar, then slowed to a stop in midair. “I think I agree, but Dr. Avery is my creator. He has instructed me that you are not in danger. I cannot supersede his judgment with my own.”

“If Dr. Avery does not have our well-being at heart, who does? Who is responsible? I believe it’s you, the robot he left in charge.”

That’s brilliant, thought Derec. I knew there was some reason why I liked this girl! “She’s right, Canute. The same morality that troubled you for what you did to Lucius will trouble you if you allow Dr.

Avery to harm us through inaction. You cannot say with any certainty that we’ll get the medical attention we need.”

Canute’s slow turn toward Derec showed the positronic conflicts it was experiencing. Derec pursued his point.

“If the robots of Robot City are allowed to continue creating, they will be able to serve humanity better, but Dr. Avery will stop this process. His orders are not mentally incompetent, but they are morally incompetent. Are you still bound to obey them?”

The robot’s turn slowed to immobility. This was the crisis, Derec knew, where Canute would decide for or against them — or slip into positronic drift.

Canute said nothing for several seconds. Then. “But, Master Derec, how can I say with any certainty that the two of you will have proper attention while you are in space? Is it not likely that you’ll suffer while alone on your way to your destination?”

“The answer to that question is simple,” said Derec, forcing his voice to remain calm and reasonable.

“That’s where Wolruf and Mandelbrot come in. They’ll take care of us between the stars.”

This time Canute did not speak or move for several minutes. It was all Derec could do to stop himself from adding something more to convince the robot to do what he wanted, but he was too afraid that the information already provided had confused the robot’s integrals to a dangerous degree.

“I have been thinking,” Canute finally said, “of Dr. Avery’s exact words. He said I should not touch the bars restraining our friend Derec, but he said nothing about the bars restraining our friends Ariel and Wolruf.”

That’s the spirit! Derec thought with a grin.

Wordlessly, Canute walked to the end of Ariel’s slab, grabbed the bar across her feet, and, utilizing all his strength, pulled it away.

Chapter 13

THE LONG DISTANCE GOOD-BYE

DR. AVERY’S SPACESHIP, a luxurious model equipped to handle as many as ten human-size occupants, was hidden in a cave on the outskirts of the city. After Canute had left the foursome — with really no idea of what to tell Dr. Avery except the truth about how his prisoners had escaped — it was a comparatively simple matter for Derec and the reactivated Mandelbrot to deduce how to run the controls.

“Let’s get off this place!” said Ariel. “We can plot a course for a destination later. I don’t even care if we head toward the colonies, I just want to go somewhere as soon as possible.”

“Don’t you care about the possibility that you might catch a disease?” asked Derec.

“It’s too late for that,” said Ariel. “Besides, right now I think a colony will be the only place that will take us.”

After they were safely in space, and free to wander about as they chose, Mandelbrot inspected the radio equipment and said, “Master Derec, I believe someone is trying to send us a transmission.”

“It’s probably Dr. Avery, but switch it on anyway,” said Derec. “We might as well hear what he has to say.” He smiled as Wolruf’s lip curled up over her teeth in anticipation of what they would hear.

But instead of the irate words of Dr. Avery, they heard a familiar form of music, a tune played in twenty measures, over and over in an A-flat chord, with sounds weaving in and out of dominant chords over a pulsating, unforgettable rhythm. Derec listened to it for only ten measures before his foot began tapping.

“That’s wonderful!” said Ariel. “It’s The Three Cracked Cheeks!”

“Sayin’ farrewell,” said Wolruf softly. “Maybe neverr see ther like again.”

“Yes, I’m going to miss them,” said Derec softly.

“The signal is becoming weaker, already beginning to fade,” said Mandelbrot.

“We’re traveling fast,” said Ariel. “I think we’d better decide where.”

“Later, if you don’t mind,” said Derec. “Sorry, but I can’t muster up a definite opinion right now. I’m too drained.” He got out of his seat and slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall of the ship. He felt strange inside, oddly disjointed. For weeks he had labored to escape from Robot City, and now that he had, he already missed it, already wondered how the mysteries he had uncovered would ultimately be resolved. He might never know the answers.

Just as he might never again hear the music of the Three Cracked Cheeks. The sound on the radio gradually faded, replaced by white noise, and he gestured at Mandelbrot to switch it off. He missed the music at once. He even missed Harry’s jokes.

Well, at least now he had the opportunity to achieve the two greatest goals he had at the moment.

Somewhere in the universe would be the secret of his amnesia, and he was determined to find a cure for Ariel at all costs.

Perhaps then he would be able to return to Robot City.

He glanced up as Wolruf made her way to the food dispensary. She clumsily punched a few buttons with her paw, and then waited for the food to appear in the slot.

But instead of food, they saw something that made them gasp.

In the slot was a Key to Perihelion!

Refuge

3604 A.D.

Chapter 1

KAPPA WHALE

THE STARS GAVE no light. Derec crawled slowly along the ship’s hull, peering intently through his helmet at the silvery metal. The ship was below him, or beside him, depending entirely on how one looked at it. He preferred to think of it as “beside” — he felt less as if he might fall that way.

To his left, to his right, “above” and “below” him, was nothing. But space was nothing new to Derec, whose memories began only a few months ago in a space capsule — a lifepod, in fact. At the moment he had no time for memories of the pod, of the ice asteroid, or of capture by the nonhuman pirate Aranimas.

He was concentrating on swimming.

“I’m at the strut,” he announced.

“Good,” said Ariel, her voice booming in his helmet.

Derec hadn’t time to turn his radio down, nor did he wish to let go just yet. His crawl along the hull, helped by the electromagnets in knees and palms, had been slow, but inexorable. When he seized the strut, his hand stopped but his body continued on past, like a swimmer carried by a wave. A wave. of inertia.

Gripping the strut, he found himself slowly swinging around it like a flag, facing back the way he’d come.

He had realized immediately that he shouldn’t have grabbed the strut, but didn’t compound his error by trying to undo it. He let the swing take him, absorbed his momentum with his arm — it creaked painfully — and came to a stop.

A robot, advancing in its tracks, arrested itself on the other side of the strut in the proper way: a hand braced against it, the arm soaking up the momentum like a spring. Being a robot, he had no fear of sprained wrists, the most common injuries in free-fall.

The robot, Mandelbrot, paused courteously while Derec resolved his entanglement with the strut. Derec gripped it with both hands and bent one elbow while keeping the other straight. His body revolved slowly around the bent arm until he had reversed himself. Placing his foot against the strut, he tippy-toed away from it, letting go, uncoiling, and reaching out for the hull.

For a moment Derec was in free, dreamy flight, not touching the ship; then his palms touched down, the magnets clicking against it as he turned on crawl-power. He slid forward on hands and forearms while his inertia wave was absorbed by the “beach” of the ship’s hull. His chest and belly and finally his knees touched down painfully, to slide scraping along.

“Frost!” said Ariel. “What are you doing, sawing the hull in half?”

Derec didn’t reply. Not letting all his momentum be absorbed, he came quickly to hands and knees, reaching and pulling at the hull. The magnets were computer controlled and clicked on and off alternately in the crawl pattern.

In a few seconds he braked and all the magnets went on. He skittered slowly to a stop. Mandelbrot joined him in a similar fashion and looked at the hull, then moved aside.

“Right, we’re at the hatch,” said Derec. “It doesn’t look like we’ll need any tools to get in; just a matter of turning inset screws.”

There were two slits in the hull, each in a small circle. The circles were at one edge of a square outline — the hatch. Derec stuck two fingers in one of the slits, Mandelbrot copying his motion at the other side, and they twisted the circles clockwise. There was a pop, and the hatch rode free.

“Got it open,” Derec said.

That was a little premature. He would have to stand up on the hull to raise the hatch, or else move around. But before he could make up his mind, Mandelbrot reinserted his fingers into one of the slits and pulled. The hatch came free easily. Mandelbrot bent his arm like a rope, heaving the hatch up over his head, put up his other arm, and the hatch stood out from the hull.

“Can’t see a frosted thing,” muttered Derec. His helmet light bounced off the shiny underside of the hatch and again off the huddled machinery exposed, but without air to scatter the light, what he saw was a collection of parallel and crossing lines of light against velvet blackness. After a moment, however, he made out a handle. These things weren’t meant only for doctorates in mechanical engineering to understand, after all. There was a release in the handle.

Squeezing the release, Derec pulled up on the handle. Nothing happened. There wasn’t room on the handle for Mandelbrot to help him. Gripping it tightly, Derec stood on the hull and put his back into it. It came free with a creaky vibration he felt all the way up through the soles of his feet, an odd sort of hearing.

“Trouble?” Ariel asked, concern in her voice. Perhaps she had heard his breathing and the gasp when it broke free.

“Stuck, but I got it loose. I think a little ice had frozen around it.”

With the help of the robot, who had released the hatch and now stood upright on the hull, Derec pulled out a mass of cunningly nested pipes all connected together, rather like unfolding a sofa-bed. Mandelbrot reached down and pulled a heavy cord, and a mass of thick, silvery plastic unfolded. As soon as the plastic balloon was sufficiently unfolded not to suffer damage, Derec peered down at its root.

He had to move around to the side, but there was the valve, looking uncommonly like a garden faucet on far-off Aurora. For a moment Derec was shaken by a perfect memory of a faucet in some dewy garden on the Planet of the Dawn. He’d had indications before this that he was from that greatest of Spacer planets, but very few specific memories leaked through his amnesia, fewer still were as sharp as this one.

After a few moments, though, he realized he was not going to remember what or where that garden was.

All he knew about it was that it was a pleasant memory. He had liked that garden. Now all he had of it was the memory of its faucet.

It isn’t wise to shrug in freefall, so Derec reached carefully inside the hatch and, bracing himself, twisted the faucet. There was a hiss he heard through his fingers and the air in the arm of his suit, as steam under low pressure rushed into the balloon. In a moment, Mandelbrot was out of sight behind it.

That wonderful flexible arm came into view, Mandelbrot twisted the return valve, and in a moment there was the faint murmur of a small pump. Water, too, was moving through the pipes by now.

The radiator and vacuum distillation sections of the water-purification-and-cooling system was in operation. They had settled down for a long stay in space.

Should have done this days ago, Derec thought but didn’t say aloud. An optimist, he had hoped a ship would have come by before now. Ariel, who tended to be pessimistic, had doubted.

“I’m coming back by way of the sun side,” he said. “The light’s better.”

Ariel didn’t answer. A punch on a button made his safety line release itself and reel in from the forward airlock. He reattached it to a ring near the hatch; the robot mimicked his movements. Feeling better about standing upright on the hull, Derec strode slowly and carefully around the rather narrow cylinder until the tiny red lamp of their current “sun” came into view, then on around until it was overhead.

A class M dwarf, the red star was no doubt very old. It was certainly very small and it had no real planets. Its biggest daughter was an ancient lump of rock barely four hundred kilometers in diameter, its next biggest less than half that in size. Most of its daughters were fragments that ranged from respectable mountains down to fists — and there weren’t many of any size. A star that old was formed at a time when the nebulas in the galaxy had only begun to be enriched with heavy elements. This was not a metalliferous star; no prospector had ever bothered to check out those lumps of rock for anything of value; none ever would.

Dim and worthless though it was, the star lit the way … somewhat. Under its light, the silvery hull looked like burnished copper — a pleasing sight. Shadows still were sharp-edged, his own shadow an odd-shaped, moving hole, it seemed, in the hull, a hole into some strange and other-dimensional universe.

Mandelbrot followed him gracefully.

“Detection alert,” said Ariel, sounding bored. “Rock coming our way. Looks like it might be about a mouthful, if you were hungry for rocks.”

“I’m not,” said Derec, but it made him think of baked potatoes. He was getting hungry.

Had there been any danger, Ariel would have said so; Derec assumed that the rock would miss them by a wide margin. They were well out from the star, sparsely populated though its space was with junk. This was only the second thing they’d detected in two days, and the first was merely a grain of sand. Probably both objects were “dirty ice” — the stuff of comets.

Danger or no, Mandelbrot moved closer to him, scanning the sky without pausing. Derec didn’t notice, and didn’t bother to look for the rock. The sun drew his eye instead. At this distance, dim as it was and weak in ultraviolet light, it could be looked at directly.

Pitiful excuse though it was for a star, poor as its family was, still it made an island of light in a vast sea of darkness where stars hard and unwinking as diamonds cut at him with their stares. He thought of the space around the red star as a room, a warmly lit room in an immensity of cold and darkness.

After the circumscribed life of Robot City, he felt free. Space, Derec thought, is mankind’s natural home.

There came a bark from inside the vessel, and he was reminded with a sudden chill that others than men used space. One of those others was within this ship: Wolruf, the doglike alien with whom he’d made alliance on Aranimas’s ship. She had escaped first from Aranimas with him, then from the hospital station, then from Robot City.

Things had been worse for them in the past, he thought. If they had to wait here for a week or two …

Then he thought: I’m worried about Ariel, though.

He moved forward, found the airlock, and crowded in to make room for the bulky robot.

Frost condensed on his armor as soon as he entered the ship, but Derec ignored that, knowing that it wasn’t too cold to touch yet; they’d only been out for minutes. It seemed even more cramped inside after having been out..

“We should spend more time outside,” he said. “It’s not exactly fresh air, but at least there’s a feeling of freedom.”

Ariel looked momentarily interested, then shrugged. “I’m all right.”

Mandelbrot looked keenly, at her, pausing in his ridiculous motion of scraping frost off his eyes, but said nothing. He had said nothing to Derec yet, but Derec knew that he was worried, too. Ariel had a serious disease. A fatal disease, she had said; It had caused her occasional pain before this, stabbing muscular aches, and she frequently seemed feverish and headachey and generally out of it; sometimes she even had hallucinations. But this prolonged gloom was new, and worrisome.

“So there’s water for showerr, yess?” said Wolruf. She was the size of a large dog and not infrequently went on all fours, but usually walked upright, for her front paws were clumsy-seeming hands, ill-shaped by human standards but clever with tools.

“Give it half an hour,” Derec said. The furry alien needed showers daily in a ship where there was no escape from each other.

“Derec, shall I prepare food?” Mandelbrot asked. “It approaches the usual hour for your meals.”

Ariel roused herself, said, “I’ll do that, Mandelbrot. What do you want, Derec, Wolruf?”

There were no potatoes ready. Of course he did not expect to find real food in a spaceship, and it took time for the synthesizer to prepare a specialty item. “Stew would be fine. Keep varying the mix and it’ll be a long time before I get bored with it.”

“I eat same as ‘ou,” Wolruf said.

“Borscht today,” said Ariel with a smile that seemed natural. “We’ve got lots of tomato sauce, and besides, I like it.”

“It’s wonderful to have a commercial synthesizer and a large stock of basics,” Derec said, cheering at her cheer. “Remember our experiments in Robot City?”

She made a face. “Remember? I’m trying to forget.”

Dr. Avery’s ship was well-equipped. Indeed, they could live indefinitely out here — at least until the micropile gave out, or their air and water leaked away. The water purifier used yeast and algae to reclaim sewage, the plants then being stored as basic organic matter for the synthesizer.

Derec, having removed the suit with motions suitable to a contortionist, stowed it away in its clips beside the airlock. Mandelbrot immediately went to it and checked it over. Reaching to the ceiling of the cabin, Derec touched off, tippy-toed off the floor, and back off the ceiling. Called “brachiating,” it was the most efficient mode of movement within a cabin in free-fall.

He turned on the receiver. It was tuned to BEACON — local. A calm, feminine-sounding robotic voice spoke. “Beacon Kappa Whale Arcadia. Report, please. Beacon Kappa Whale Arcadia. Report, please.” Turning off the sound, Derec glumly checked the indicators. Kappa Whale was coming in on the electromagnetic band, both laser and microwave. They were getting minimal detection on the hyperwave, however.

“I don’t understand it,” he muttered. Ariel glanced at him over her shoulder as she floated before the cooking equipment.

Wolruf joined him. “Wass broken by Doctorr Avery, do ‘ou think?”

“Sabotage? I don’t know. It was picking up Kappa Whale beautifully when we took off from Robot City.”

They had left the planet of robots hurriedly in this stolen ship. Dr. Avery, who had created the robots that went on to build Robot City, had been pursuing them for reasons none of them understood. Though Derec suspected that Ariel knew more about the enigmatic and less-than-sane doctor than she had said.

Once off the planet and safe from Dr. Avery, they discovered that either there were no astrogation charts in the ship, or they were well concealed in its computer. Though positronic, that was not a full-fledged positronic brain. Had it been, they could have convinced it that without the charts they would die in space. Under the First Law of Robotics, it would be unable to withhold the charts, regardless of the orders it had been given.

The First Law of Robotics states: A robot may not knowingly harm a human being, or knowingly allow a human being to come to harm.

Orders would have come merely under the Second Law, which is: A robot must obey the orders of a human being, except where this would conflict with the First Law.

But the computer was merely a more complicated calculator, incapable of the simplest robotic thought.

Robotic ships with positronic brains had been tried, and had all failed, because all full-sized positronic brains were designed with the Three Laws built into them. Necessarily, they were too intent on preventing possible harm to their occupants. Since space travel is inherently unsafe, they had a tendency to go mad or to refuse to take off.

“I feel like hitting the damn computer, or kicking it,” he said.

Wolruf grinned her rather frightening grin. “Ho! ‘Ou think, like Jeff Leong, all machines should have place to kick?”

“Or some way to jar information loose. I’m convinced there must be charts in there somewhere —”

It was a reasonable guess. Nobody could remember all the miles of numbers that was a star chart.

Charts were rarely printed out in whole, though for convenience in calculation, some sections might be.

This little ship didn’t have a printer. All it had — they presumed — was a recording in its memory.

But they couldn’t find it.

Even that wouldn’t have been too serious if the hyperwave hadn’t gone out on them. Lacking charts, in orbit about Robot City, they had swept space with the hyperwave and picked up Kappa Whale Arcadia quite well. The fix was good enough to Jump toward, and they had done that. Logically, they should then have been able to pick up other beacons and hop, skip, and jump their way to anywhere in inhabited space: the fifty Spacer worlds, or the Settler worlds that Earth had recently begun to occupy.

“We’re somewhere within telescopic distance of Arcadia,” murmured Derec. That was a minor and distant Spacer world. But they had no idea on which side of it lay the constellation of the Whale. They knew only that this — Kappa — was the ninth-brightest star in that constellation, and that there was only one fainter, Lambda Whale. Constellations, by interstellar agreement, had, for astrogational purposes, no more than ten stars.

“Sooner or laterr a ship will come,” Wolruf said reassuringly.

Sooner or later. Derec grunted.

He didn’t need to have the argument repeated; it had been mostly his. When they found that, after the Jump, the hyperwave would only pick up the nearest beacon, Derec had suggested that they lie low until a ship came by, and request a copy of the astrogational charts from it. To beam a copy over would take the ship only a few minutes, and be no trouble at all.

Sooner or later.

“Soup’s on, or stew in this case,” Ariel said. The oven opened with an exhalation of savory steam. “We still have some of your crusty bread, Derec. I reheated it. But we’ll want more later.”

“It smells good,” Derec said honestly. Wolruf, with even greater honesty, licked her chops and grinned.

Derec had overcome his irritation at Ariel’s invasion of the male preserve of the chief of cuisine, and had admitted to her that she was a better chef than he. (Common cooking was robot work, which no human admitted to doing.)

They ate in silence for a short while. The stew was served in covered bowls, but it clung to the inner surfaces. Manipulating their spoons carefully, they were able to eat without flinging food allover the ship.

At first even Ariel’s appetite was good, but she quickly lost interest.

“Do you think a ship will ever come by here?” she asked finally, her gaze, and apparently her thought, a long way away.

“Of course,” said Derec quickly. “I admit I was too optimistic. I suspect we’re well out on the edge of inhabited space; this lane is not too well traveled. But eventually....”

“Eventually …” she said, almost dreamily. She seemed, often now, in a drifting, abstracted state.

“Eventually,” Derec repeated weakly.

He was too honest to try to argue her into belief. Ships didn’t fly from star to star like an aircraft. They Jumped, with massive thrusts of their hyperatomic motors, going in a direction that was at right angles to time and all three spatial dimensions simultaneously. Since they went no-distance, it naturally took no-time to Jump. Therefore there were no lanes of star travel.

For safety reasons, ships Jumped from star to star; if one was stranded for any reason, rescuers had only to chart the route and check every star along it. And since not every star had inhabited planets, all along these well-traveled lanes (as they were called) were the beacon stars. A ship Jumping into this beacon system was supposed to verify that it had indeed arrived at Kappa Whale, beam its ship’s log to the beacon’s recorders, and depart. Periodically, patrol ships copied those records to assure that nothing untoward had happened.

But days had passed and no ships had appeared. Of course a ship appearing on the other side of Kappa Whale would not be detected by them on the electromagnetic band until it had Jumped out. The hyperwave radio, though, was functioning well enough to detect a ship reporting to the beacon anywhere in this stellar system. Derec and Wolruf agreed on that.

So: eventually they would be found and rescued.

Wolruf finished her meal by opening her bowl and licking it clean efficiently. “I wass thinking,” she said.

“Maybe Jump-wave shock shifted things in ‘ou’rr hyperwave antenna.”

“Shifted the elements?” Derec nodded uncertainly. He had no idea where he had been educated, but he had a good general technical background with a strong specialty in robotics — not unusual for a Spacer youth, as he assumed himself to be. But hyperwave technology was a whole other and, if anything, even more difficult school of knowledge.

“Do ‘ou have —’ou know — things to measure them with?”

Derec had seen a toolbox on the ship’s schematic that he had accessed before going out to set up the recycling system. There might be.”

There was. A few minutes later, with Ariel listless at the detectors and Wolruf at the communicator, Derec carefully strode forward outside, followed by Mandelbrot.

The hyperwave antenna could have been put in any part of the ship, since the hyperatomo didn’t kowtow to the laws of space-time, but it would have had to have been well shielded lest its backlash in the small ship damage the instruments. or even the crew. So in these Star Seeker models it was in a blister on the bow, as far from everything as possible.

The antenna looked like a series of odd-shaped chunks of metal and coils of wire, and the testing gear simply shot current through each element in turn. The readouts were within normal range, as nearly as he could tell from the manual he had accessed before coming out.

“I don’t get it,” Derec complained, thinking of the classical definition of Hell: the place where all the instruments test out to be perfect, but none of them work. “How can I fix it if it isn’t broken?”

“I think,” said Wolruf slowly, “that Dr. Avery hass retuned the antenna.”

“Retuned?” Derec had never heard of such a thing, but knew little about the subject. “I thought all Spacer talk was in the same range. Is he trying to pick up — Settlers? Or what?”

“Maybe Aranimass.”

Maybe, Derec thought, chilled. Maybe, indeed. That long-armed pirate was definitely interested in Dr.

Avery’s doings, though he might not know who or what Dr. Avery was.

Derec stood, looking around the warm room generated by Kappa Whale, and shivered. For the first time the thought came to him: What if the first ship that showed up was Aranimas’s? He must be systematically searching the beacon stars —

A touch on his arm nearly made Derec jump off the hull.

Chapter 2

PERIHELION

THE BURNISHED, ENIGMATIC face of Mandelbrot approached his. The robot gripped him with his normal left arm. His Avery-construct right arm bent impossibly, reached around Derec and switched off his communicator.

Derec had had nightmares about that arm. It was a piece of scrap from an Avery robot, which Aranimas had had picked up from the ice asteroid where Derec had first awakened. “Build me a robot,” the alien had said. Derec had put pieces together to build the robot he called Alpha. It wasn’t a good job, but it worked.

Then, weeks later, the crudely attached right arm seated itself firmly and made a few modifications in Alpha’s brain: Alpha informed them that he was now known as Mandelbrot. Derec had observed the fine structure of the arm: a series of tiny chips, or scales, that gripped each other and could therefore mold the arm to any shape that might be desired.

Each unit was a sort of robotic cell; together, they were a brain. And having integrated themselves, they had — to a degree — taken over Alpha. Derec’s nightmare was that the cells were eating the robot out from the inside, that his interior was one solid mass of them, and he was about to become something — horrifying.

Impossible; the cells couldn’t eat. Also, all the brains were robotic, Mandelbrot’s normal positronic brain and the units in the cells. The Three Laws compelled them all. But dreams are not logical.

At the moment, the worst nightmare had come true, until Mandelbrot put his head against Derec’s helmet. It would have looked to an observer as if the robot were kissing his cheek: his microphone touched Derec’s helmet and Mandelbrot spoke.

“Derec, I am worried about Ariel.”

They had been careful to conceal from Mandelbrot the worst of Ariel’s condition. The robot knew only that she was sick, not that the disease was usually fatal. The effect on his positronic brain was more than they cared to risk; the First Law left no loophole for incurable diseases.

“Ariel is bored, as well as ill,” Derec said.

He looked away uneasily from the robot’s expressionless but intense face. The stars beckoned, promising and threatening; somewhere out there, perhaps, he might recover his memory. He remembered Jeff Leong, who had crashed on Robot City after an accident while on his way to college. In a few years, Derec would have been thinking about college, if this fantastic thing hadn’t happened to him.

“Ariel is very sick,” said Mandelbrot. “Her eating pattern has altered markedly. She suffers from fever most of the time. Her attention span is abnormally low, she is sensitive to light, she moves about only with effort —”

“All right,” said Derec, feeling that he would ossify before the robot finished its catalog if he didn’t interrupt. “It’s true that Ariel is ill. But I am not worried about her.”

That wasn’t true, especially now that it had been brought out into the open.

“You should worry. I fear for her safety if something is not done for her.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“You may have to use the Key to Perihelion.”

After scouring Robot City for weeks for a Key to Perihelion, the mysterious device that would transport them instantly off the planet, they had managed to steal Dr. Avery’s ship when he had come to investigate their “interference.” On the ship they had found the Key, but Derec’s investigation of Dr. Avery’s office had shown him where the Key would probably take him.

Derec said, “That would take us back to Robot City — with no way of escape and Dr. Avery after us. Surely that’s less safe than this mild illness.”

Mandelbrot was silent for a moment. Then he said, “That is true. I hope you are right and that this is a mild illness. But she has suffered many of these symptoms for many days now. Mild illnesses usually subside within this time.”

The robot fell silent but did not move away.

“‘Ou might as well come back in,” said Wolruf, startling Derec. “I do not think we can find the problem out therre. I wish I knew more about dense energy fieldss ….”

Derec turned, and at his first motion the robot released him, first turning his communicator back on. The motion was as much an indicator of Derec’s will as a command, and the Second Law of Robotics forced the robot to comply with his desire.

“Right, I’m coming back,” Derec said, as if there had been no hiatus in their communications.

He returned reluctantly. There was free-fall within the cabin — and three times as much space as there had been under acceleration — but there were decks and bulkheads and overheads. Out here he was in his element. It was like floating in warm salt water. Even the cumbersome suit didn’t detract from the feeling of freedom he got from letting his gaze rove out and on out, from star to ever-more-distant star.

All of them waiting, just beyond this red-lit room.

Stars beyond stars, with their waiting worlds, which now only the Earth Settlers were opening up. And beyond, other intelligent races, other adventures …. A member of one of those races waited now in the ship. Derec had again a moment of intense wonder that he of all people should be among the first to meet aliens. Most of those who had met the pirate Aranimas hadn’t survived ….

Who knew what other beings awaited them among all those bright stars? He wondered why the Spacers had sat for so many centuries on their fifty worlds, too satisfied to go looking for adventure. The way he felt now, it was impossible to believe.

Derec had an impulse to jump and go tumbling head under heels across the sky, but he knew Ariel would think it silly with his safety line and dangerous without. Right on both counts, he thought ruefully.

Frost, why can’t I be a little kid for once? I can’t remember ever having been one; it’s like I’ve been cheated out of all that kiddish fun....

There was a warm, pleasant smell in the air of the ship when they reentered. “I made toast,” said Ariel emptily.

She had toasted the last of the crusty bread, but hadn’t buttered it. It was now nearly cold. Derec pretended not to notice, merely nodded and thanked her, trying to sound pleased. Popping the slices into the oven, he reheated them, and punched up his sequence for bread on the synthesizer — three loaves.

When the toast was warmed, he buttered it and shared it with Wolruf. The caninoid, like a true dog, was always ready to eat, if only a bite or two.

Ariel wasn’t hungry.

“I think Doctorr Avery hass retuned the hyperwave antenna by changing the densities of the force-fieldss in the core elementss,” Wolruf said, exhaling crumbs. “Dense force-fieldss arre the only things that can stop hyperatomos. But why change it, if not to detect something?”

Derec nodded uncertainly. A dense force-field was one that permeated some object; a magnet with a keeper across its poles was the classic example. Altering the density of the atomic-level fields in the core elements of the antenna would change the “acceptance” of the core.

“If not to detect something, like, say, Aranimas’s ship or transmissions?” he asked. “It’s a consideration. It’s not unlikely that they have crossed paths, as Dr. Avery has Keys to Perihelion and Aranimas wants them.”

It might well be reassuring, then, that the hyperwave wasn’t detecting anything. It might mean that Aranimas wasn’t operating anywhere around here.

“Ariel, you seem sleepy,” said Mandelbrot. “It approaches your usual bedtime. Perhaps you should go to bed.”

“Yes, good idea,” said Ariel vaguely. She continued to sit and stare vacantly for another fifteen minutes before sighing deeply and getting slowly “up”.

When she had gone to the one private cabin the little ship boasted, Wolruf turned fiercely on Derec.

“She iss sick! ‘Ou must do something, Derec! The robot iss worried. I am worried.”

Mandelbrot had accompanied Ariel into the cabin. Derec lowered his voice, nevertheless. “You’re right. Don’t let Mandelbrot know how far advanced her condition is; it might destroy his brain.”

Wolruf caught his breath. “She will die? Iss that what you mean?”

Derec nodded, haggard. “She told me her disease is usually fatal. I-I’d been hoping that it wouldn’t be. But since we’ve been sitting here, doing nothing ….”

“I think some iss boredom. But mosst is sickness!”

Derec nodded. The cabin door opened and Mandelbrot emerged, closed it gently, and moved purposefully toward them, fingers against the overhead, toes against the deck.

“Ariel must have medical attention,” he said bluntly when he was close, speaking as circumspectly as Derec and Wolruf had done. “The First Law demands it. I fear for her life if this trend continues, Derec.”

They looked at him and he saw it coming.

“You must use the Key to Perihelion.”

Wolruf nodded her agreement.

Derec felt sick at the thought of returning to Robot City, even aside from the thought of Dr. Avery. “That would leave you here with no spacesuit and only Mandelbrot able to go outside —”

“Iss no matter. ‘Ou musst not rissk Ariel’ss life.”

“It is a First Law imperative.” Mandelbrot could not conceive that a human could resist that imperative, any more than he himself could.

“Very well. As soon as she has awakened and eaten. Tomorrow, in other words. And I hope Dr. Avery isn’t at home.”

The thing that alarmed Derec most next morning was that Ariel didn’t resist. A tart-tongued young woman, had she been in her normal condition she’d have frosted them well. As it was, there was a spark of eagerness in her eye, not so much, Derec thought, hope that the robotic Human Medical Team on Robot City might have found a cure, as relief from boredom.

It was no small risk they were taking. Dr. Avery was brilliant, a genius, but undoubtedly insane — megalomaniacal. Humans were but robots to him, to be used as he wished.

Derec looked at Ariel.

Frost, he thought, I hope we make it. She had come to mean a lot to him. How much, he hadn’t been free to say. She did, after all, have this disease. It was not readily contagious, and in fact Derec had learned that it was sexually transmitted. Additionally, she remembered him from before his memory began.

Apparently there had once been some kind of strong emotion between them, and she was torn two ways by the memory, or by the contrast between his present innocent state and what had once been between them. She had told him frustratingly little about himself, though he thought she knew much.

None of her secretiveness mattered. She was Ariel, and he would rather be sick himself than see her suffer so.

Nevertheless, going back to Robot City was a wrench when they’d come so near to escaping.

“We might as well get it over with,” said Ariel. He thought she sounded better than she had for days.

Possibly being chased halfway across Robot City would be good for her.

Mandelbrot handed Derec the Key. It was rectangular and flat, small enough to hold in a hand, but larger than any mechanical key. It glittered in the light, looking more like silver than aluminum. It was in fact a highly conductive alloy permeated with a force-field. That made it more reflective than any unenergized metal, and was suggestive of hyperatomics.

Derec put an arm around Ariel for stability and pressed the Key into her palm, gripping her hand from below. As both of them gripped the Key, he pressed each corner in turn. Derec considered that the Keys had a nonhuman source, though the robots on Robot City had learned to make them. Humans wouldn’t design a control system like that.

When the fourth corner was pressed, a button rose from the smooth, seamless surface. Derec took a final glance around, nodded farewell to the caninoid and the robot, and to the ship itself. There wasn’t time for lengthy speeches; the button would soon recede.

He pressed the button.

The ship disappeared from around them, and fog took its place.

Perihelion.

The word meant the point in an orbit closest to a sunmore accurately, the sun, the Sun of old Earth. But now the term was synonymous with periastron. Perihelion had been described to them as the place closest to every place else in the universe.

They retained their floating attitudes, still in free fall, and looked around. Perihelion hadn’t changed. All around them was a soft gray light, and air, air that smelled fuggy and dusty. No purifiers here, thought Derec, twisting to look around. It seemed that Perihelion went on forever, but he suspected that it had sharp limits to its size.

“What are you looking for?” Ariel asked, sounding as if she cared again.

“The hyperatomic motors.”

“The what?”

“The Jump motors. This Key couldn’t have brought us here by itself, not if the robots could duplicate it.

It has to be tuned to motors elsewhere; I think it’s just a tiny hyperwave radio. I don’t know if we’re in hyperspace or if this is a place in normal space — a big balloon, the size of a planet, perhaps.”

“You mean, somebody made it?” Ariel asked, aghast.

“It’s obviously an alien transport station — maybe for moving really heavy freight,” said Derec. “It may be one of many. I wonder if it’s abandoned, or if it’s actually in use but is so big we don’t see the others and they don’t see us.”

“The light comes from all sides,” Ariel said, thoughtfully.

“Yes,” said Derec, also thoughtful. “I hadn’t thought of that. Well, much remains mysterious. It would take a small ship to explore this place.”

In any case, they could do nothing now.

“We might as well get on with it,” said Ariel, bored once the first interest had worn off. She made a face at the thought of Robot City, but Derec was heartened. She hadn’t had that much spirit last night.

Derec repeated the keying motions and pressed the button. Gravity slapped their feet and light slapped their eyes. They looked around in shock. Walls surrounded them — obviously the walls of an apartment.

But this wasn’t an apartment designed by Avery robots. They weren’t on Robot City.

They had no idea where they were.

Chapter 3

WEBSTER GROVES

THE APARTMENT WAS small, cramped, mean. It had not been lived in — there were no human touches, no pictures of relatives, no flowers or personalized decorations. It was very clean, but the flooring looked worn — no carpets — and the door handles looked dulled from use. A silly-looking robot stood against one wall.

This room was perhaps three meters by five and had a chair and a small couch that might seat two — three if they didn’t mind contact. There was a curious blank space against one wall; a control panel was near one closed door. An open door led into what seemed to be a bedroom. A third door was closed and smaller than the others.

In the bedroom, Derec saw when he took a step, was another closed door. It was side by side with the closed door in this room, and he judged that they were both closets. Also in that wall, in both rooms, were drawer pulls — drawers built into the wall. A faint mechanical hum permeated the apartment.

And that was it.

“Just two rooms,” he said in disbelief.

“No bathroom!” said Ariel.

“No. And no kitchen or dining room.”

They looked at each other. The only thing Derec could think of was a prison, but that wasn’t right; there’d be a bathroom, at least. And this was too small and sterile for a prison, anyway.

“I wonder if that robot is functional,” said Ariel, frowning at it.

It didn’t look functional. It had a rigid, silly grin on a plastic face, unlike any robot Derec had seen or heard of. Now that he looked at it critically, its joints and the associated drive mechanisms looked large and clumsy. His training in robotics had dealt primarily with the brains, but the bodies, too, had been covered. It seemed to be looking at them, but it hadn’t moved, of course.

“Robot, are you functional?” Derec asked.

“Yes, master,” it said obsequiously, not moving, that fatuous grin never altering.

Robots should not have phoney human faces, Derec thought in irritation; one kept wanting to respond, but there was no emotion there to respond to.

“What is your name?”

“My name is R. David, master.”

Ariel looked questioningly at him. Derec shook his head. Robots often had human names, if they attended humans. Ariel had told him that as a child she had named her nurse robot Guggles, though her parents had named the robot Katherine. Nowhere, though, had he heard of a robot with a prefix to its name. R. David? Or had he heard

“R. David, what planet is this?” Ariel asked.

“This is Earth, Miss Avery,” the robot said respectfully.

Startled — staggered, in fact — they looked at each other.

Of course! The rooms were so small, so cramped and mean, because Earth was immensely overpopulated. It had more people than all fifty Spacer worlds put together. The robot was crude because Earthmen were backward in robotics and in fact had a strong prejudice against them.

As strong as their prejudice against Spacers.

“We might have been better off back on Robot City,” Derec said.

“Maybe we can get back to civilization from here,” Ariel said.

“Good thinking. R. David, is it possible to take ship from Earth to the Spacer worlds?”

“Yes, Mr. Avery. Ships leave Earth at least weekly, and often more frequently.”

Mr. Avery! And he had called Ariel “Miss Avery.” They glanced at each other and with one accord decided not to mention it.

It seemed obvious to Derec that this robot was accustomed to seeing Dr. Avery come and go in the instantaneous fashion possible only to Key wielders. It had accepted that “Avery” could come and go in such fashion. Seeing them arrive in the same way, it came to the logical but wrong conclusion that they were “Averys,” though they were obviously not “Or. Avery.”

“The first thing to do, then, is to get to the spaceport,” Derec said. “Does that door lead to the outside?”

“One moment, Mr. Avery, if you please. It would not be wise for you to venture forth without preparation.”

“What sort of preparation?” Derec asked. The robot was right; this was Earth.

“First, you will need a complete prophylactic regimen against the diseases of Earth. These are many and varied, and you have no natural immunity.”

Frost, that was so. They looked at each other in alarm.

“However, the problem is not so great as most Spacers believe.”

The robot stirred, opened a drawer in the wall and produced hypoguns, vials, pills. Grimacing, but needing no urging, they submitted themselves to their use.

“Take the pills when next you drink. If at any time you have any physical sensations of illness, you must notify me at once. It will be necessary to diagnose you immediately for treatment.”

Derec and Ariel nodded solemnly, more than a little nervous at the thought of Earthly diseases.

“You will also need identification, ration slips and tags, and money,” said R. David decisively when that was done. Moving clumsily, it opened the door to the closet in the sitting room. It was jammed with things, from a bookviewer and boxes of records to compact duplication devices. Derec recognized these as Spacer-made, and surmised that it would be no great feat to duplicate Earthly ID symbols.

In this he was correct. R. David lowered the blank thing on the wall — a folding table — and spent an hour or so producing numerous bits of plastic and metal bearing their pictures, long numbers, various obscure statements about them, and of course a complete ID workup, including fingerprints, footprints, retinal scans, corneal images, ear pictures, and blood analysis.

“Dr. Avery procured comparatively large sums of Earthly money when he first landed,” R. David explained. “He traded rare metals for it. Of course, money as such is of little value on Earth, as it can only be used to purchase nonessentials such as book recordings. Food, housing, clothing, and so on, are rationed.”

“Frost,” said Ariel nervously. “I wouldn’t want some poor Earther to starve because I got his rations.”

“There is no danger of that, Miss Avery. There is ample margin. It does no harm to anyone to provide you with Earthly ID, as Dr. Avery has more than paid for the consumption of Earth’s scarce resources with his rare metals. Rationed items are available in amounts and qualities controlled by the individual’s rating.”

“Rating?”

“One’s position in Earthly society. I understand that things are not greatly different in any human society, but on Earth such things have been formalized to a much higher degree.”

“It’s true that in the Spacer worlds the most important people usually get the best of what’s going,” said Ariel wryly. “Maybe Earth is actually more honest in admitting this. What kind of government does Earth have? Is it democratic, aristocratic, or what? Do the higher ratings run everything?”

“In answer to your last question, yes, to a degree. Earth is a democratic syndicalism, with elections to Parliament made from location — in the lower house — and from industry to the upper house, or senate.

Elections are democratic in those areas, but most of the administration is by appointed officials, these being people who have passed certain tests and worked their way up from less important offices.

Syndicalism means that industry — primarily the feeding, housing, and clothing of the population — dominates the government.”

“I can see how that would be necessary,” said Derec, watching the robot’s big, clumsy hands proceed delicately at their task. “How many ratings are there, and what’s the highest?”

“Currently there are twenty-one ratings. The rating A is usually considered the highest. It is rarely bestowed. Only ten million humans are in this rating category.”

One out of ten, Derec thought automatically. Then he caught himself. No: on Aurora, or most of the Spacer worlds, ten million would be ten percent of the populace. But Earth had

“What’s the population of Earth, R. David?” Ariel asked, having paralleled Derec’s thought.

“Eight billion, Miss Avery.”

Eight billion! They looked at each other. The population of eighty Spacer worlds — and there were only fifty.

“Who is in the A rating? Government officials?”

“No, this rating is reserved for entrepreneurs who solve large problems, for inventors, heroic spacemen, and other adventurers. It may be conferred by popular acclaim, as in the case of certain beloved entertainers. Recipients of the A rating have many privileges, among them the right to adorn their doors with laurel.”

A high honor, like the Medal of Aurora. Derec nodded; the details — what was laurel? — didn’t matter.

“What’s the next lowest rating?”

“B rating is reserved for planetary and continental governmental officials, both elected and appointed. C refers to City officials. D is for industry officials. From there it becomes complex and not obvious. There are fifteen steps in each rating, the lowest being step one.”

“So, what rate and step are you preparing for us?”

“I am preparing identification for T ratings, as I did for Dr. Avery, as I assume you will wish to remain anonymous as Spacers. It will certainly facilitate your investigations of Earthly society if you pass unremarked, and the T rating is the best for that purpose.”

“What kind of people normally are assigned T ratings?” Ariel asked.

“The ‘T’ stands for ‘Transient.’ Any person whose duties require him or her to travel may be assigned this rating, unless the rating itself allows of that eventuality, as do B ratings and many A ratings. Salesmen, for instance, may be rated D or T but usually T as D is assigned to administrative duties.

“In your cases,” R. David continued, “I had considered assigning you S ratings — students — but I judged it not advisable, as students have certain restrictions, and I would be forced to specify a school.”

Interesting as all this was, Derec found the hour it took to prepare the ID dragging. The tiny-roomed apartment, with only two rooms, was a prison more confining than any he had viewed in historical novels.

Even the dungeons of the ancient times on Earth had seemed larger. The varying mechanical drone seemed to grow louder and louder until he was forced to speak, whereupon it faded at once to its actual low level.

It was the sound, he thought in some awe, of the City — a sound no Earthman could avoid, from birth to death. For they never went outside their Cities.

Finally, the ID was completed, and R. David explained the uses of the various pieces. “This is your ration tag for food; your home kitchen is 9-G. Personals are also assigned, but you may use any you see.

Derec, take care not to speak to or look at anyone in Personal; there is a strong taboo for men on Earth.

Ariel, women have no such taboo; you may speak in Personal. Your ratings do not grant you stall privileges. You must supply your own combs, brushes, and shaving equipment.”

R. David droned on, provided them with a map of the local area. There was an attempt to put everything on the same level, they learned. Their quarters were low-status, and so they had to go up or down to Personals and commissary.

At length the robot gave them hats and let them go, obviously worried. Ariel opened the door and stepped out, Derec following.

The same oyster-white walls as the interior; they might have been in a very cheap hotel, and in fact, Derec surmised, they were. A youth with long, elaborately coiffed hair and gaudy cheap clothes gave them a sullen look from down the corridor as he entered an apartment. An older woman, heavy and squarish and short, passed them, carrying an open bottle and exhaling the odor of mousey beer. She did not so much not look at them as not see them.

Turning to the right, Derec led them toward a gleam of brighter light. Behind them, two men exited from an apartment, talking casually together about a sports event, oddly called “boxing.” Moments later, Derec and Ariel were at the junction.

A wider, busier corridor crossed theirs at right angles. Ariel pointed out the sign that told them that theirs was Sub-Corridor 16. They had just entered Corridor M. Turning left, they followed a small crowd, which quickly resolved itself into an accidental grouping. There must have been fifty people in view at any given moment, Derec estimated, and was slightly staggered.

Abruptly, on the right the wall became transparent and they looked into an open space in which children raced about and bounced balls. A playground. The inside of the wall had crude bits of childish art affixed to it; posters boasted of obscure triumphs, and “recitations” were advertised. It was strange, yet Derec found it familiar. Sometime in his forgotten past he had played in such a playground, though nothing specific came through.

One thing, though, he missed: the gleam of attentive robots along the wall and amid the yelling mobs.

Corridor M terminated at a large circular junction. In the angles, four escalator strips spiraled — two up and two down. Beyond, according to the signs, was another subsection: theirs was Sub-Section G.

Perhaps a hundred men, women, and children were visible, Derec thought. He and Ariel, awed, slowed their pace and drifted to one side of the center of the junction, avoiding both the mouths of the corridors and the escalators. A hundred — and not the same hundred. Moment by moment, people filtered in and filtered out, up or down, away along the corridors, or in from either direction.

Derec supposed wildly that within ten minutes a person might see — oh — five hundred people. Frost! Maybe a thousand!

And now that the playground had alerted him, he noted that none of them were robots.

There were small tables with uncomfortable-looking benches before them, at which people sat, some playing chess. Other benches without tables, equally uncomfortable in appearance, harbored other people. Not far from them an old fellow like a wrinkled apple smiled cherubically at everything he saw; beside him on the bench was an uncapped bottle wrapped in brown paper up to the neck. Others who sat about were also old. Some played chess or other board games at the tables; some snacked on various foodstuffs.

The walls under the escalators had identifying marks high up, but lower down there were large boards with papers affixed to them, announcing various events. Below that still were wide strips running from escalator to corridor mouth, on which crude, vigorous murals had been painted. At one corner an earnest group of youths, younger than Ariel or Derec, were touching the mural lightly with flat appliqué boards, painting a new mural over the old. Watching them was a young woman all in blue. She looked short, square, sturdy, and wore an odd cap with a bill of translucent blue that threw a blue shadow over her face; above the bill was a golden medal.

She turned and they saw that she had the label C-3 on her upper left chest, and a tool of some sort dangling from her left side: it was half a meter long and had a sturdy grip. C ratings were City functionaries, Derec remembered. Then he realized that the tool was a neuronic whip. No; it was far too big and heavy; the neuronic whip might be in that buttoned-shut pouch in front. The tool had to be a club.

A policewoman. Her eye took them in, paused, went on, and she crossed to speak to one of the old parties at a table. Derec stared in fascination. He had never, to his knowledge, laid eyes on one whose duty was to apply force to other human beings.

“Standing here as we are, we stand out; she’s probably trained to notice people who act oddly,” Ariel said in a low voice.

Derec agreed wordlessly, started toward the down escalator, reflecting that no one could understand them from a little distance if they spoke normally, so great was the noise of people and the murmur of the escalators.

Each escalator flattened out where it met the floor, and there was a three-meter strip of level surface.

Ahead of them, Earthmen strode forward and stepped on without breaking stride, then turned about to face their direction of travel. Derec and Ariel tried to imitate that confident stride. At least the example taught them to enter against the direction of travel, a thing Derec wouldn’t have guessed. They stepped on with only a slight flexing of the legs and a quick shuffle to retain balance. They turned around and looked down, just as the strip dived down behind the wall.

The escalator, they saw, was not actually a stairway, as they had expected; it was a flat, moving ramp.

Overhead was a sloping ceiling from which came the muted rumble of drives; one of the other strips, Derec supposed, probably an up strip. The down escalator did a complete half-circle clockwise, then the wall to their right opened and they were on the other side of the junction at the next level down.

One more half-circle, another junction, then there came a full circle with no exit, and they were at the bottom. The murmur became thunderous. The escalator dived into a slit in the floor, and, Derec presumed, ran “underground” for a few meters, only to reverse itself and climb backward, out of the floor and up. There were only two strips, not four, each going both up and down simultaneously.

Two dozen people got off below them, then they got off, and fifty more followed them, dispersing briskly in all directions, fighting through hundreds of people going eight different ways. This junction was four times as busy as the ones they’d seen above. Derec and Ariel tried not to gape.

Light and noise came through the arches that replaced the corridor mouths above, and they saw people whirling past. If before they’d seen hundreds, now they saw thousands!

Derec swallowed a small knot of fear. So many people! He got the distinct impression he’d never seen that many people together before. He realized he was making quick calculations of how much air they were using, and, more importantly, how much was left for him. No, he thought, if there’s enough for eight billion, there’s enough for me.

To right and left, moving strips hurtled past, faster and faster and higher and higher as they got farther from the junction. High overhead were glowing, Crawling signs like worms of light, the largest saying WEBSTER GROVES. Before and behind them, the other two arches opened on the non-moving space between the strips. It was dotted with kiosks — some being communications booths, some being the heads of strips that came up from below. Far away down the concourse was another wide tube coming down from the ceiling, with its four escalators. Behind, at the limits of sight, was another.

They drifted out, read the signs, awed. People swarmed about them, the noise was continuous and not so loud as it seemed, the air was warm and humid and thick with the odor of thousands, hundreds of thousands, of people.

“So this is Earth.”

Chapter 4

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME-KITCHEN

HESITANTLY, DEREC LED the way to the expressway that ran west, as it proclaimed. The lightworrns overhead proclaimed KIRKWOOD EXITS NEXT.

They mounted the first strip. It was traveling at about half walking speed, and each succeeding strip was that much faster than the previous. A fat old man skipped nimbly across three strips in a practiced motion that would have sent Derec tumbling. Sedately, he and Ariel crossed three strips, then she gasped and gripped his arm.

Hurriedly they recrossed the strips, going down, and were carried only a little way past their destination.

They had gotten nowhere near the fast lanes of the express.

Once between the ways again they were a little puzzled, but there was a kiosk not far away, from which people emerged. Entering it, they found strips to carry them down to a cross-corridor that would take them under the ways. They surfaced on the other side of the express strips, where there was a set of localways, rode the second-slowest strip back for a short distance and got off, to dive into a huge corridor.

It was lined with shops of various kinds, but they didn’t stop to look. Thousands of people were peering through the transparent walls at bright displays of goods.

At the second cross-corridor was the symbol for the Personal. It wasn’t the one to which they were assigned; they must have passed that within minutes after leaving the apartment. At Ariel’s questioning look, Derec nodded, but he felt a qualm though he walked firmly toward the door to the Men’s Personal.

For the first time, they were separated.

Don’t look at or speak to anyone, R. David had said. He pushed open the door and found himself in an anteroom. No one lingered there, so he also passed on, through a door ingeniously arranged not to be in line of sight of the first. Inside he saw a series of small hallways lined with blank doors, about half with red lights glowing. Some of these little cubicles were four times as large as others, and as a man exited one he glimpsed such felicities as laundry facilities. The stalls, he supposed, to which he had no access.

The tiny cubicle his keyed plastic strip got him into had a crude john, a metal mirror, and below it a wash basin. There was no towel, merely a device to blow hot, dry air. The showers were at the other end.

He felt better when he left. After a lengthy wait, Ariel reappeared, looking radiant.

Derec stared. Certainly she was looking better than she had in days on shipboard. He had a wild hope that she was not really sick after all, or that she had experienced one of those mysterious remissions that still baffled doctors. Then he realized that he was letting his wishes rule his reason, and cursed himself for setting himself up for a reaction.

“Shall we go?” she asked, smiling and taking his arm.

It was not far to the section kitchen to which they were assigned. As T-4s they could go to any kitchen they happened to be near, but that would entail accounting difficulties for the staff of the kitchen, and might draw attention to them.

Three lines of people formed up at the door, right, left, and center. They joined one of the lines, readying their metal ration tags. Ahead of them the Earthers — talking and laughing uninhibitedly, as was their wont — filtered forward, inserting their tags into slots and after a moment recovering them and striding into noisy confusion, removing their hats. There was a strong, pleasant odor of unfamiliar food.

“Hey, Charlie!” came a raucous cry from behind them, making them jump a little. Someone in the line behind them had recognized someone in the next line. “Back from Yeast Town, hey?”

Charlie answered incomprehensibly, something about being good to be back. “Right!” bellowed the man behind them. “No kitchen like home-kitchen, eh?”

Considering that they all must serve food from the same source, Derec thought, that must just be familiarity, not the food. Come to think of it, if everybody ate in such kitchens three times a day, they’d soon get to know their neighbors at the nearby tables.

They moved forward, Derec’s tag slippery in his hand. With nothing better to do, he counted the people passing through the entry. Each line filtered diners through at about one per second. Sixty per minute. At least a hundred and eighty per minute for the three lines. Frost! he thought. And we’ve been in line for five minutes!

It got worse; something like eighteen hundred people must have entered in the ten minutes it took them to work their way to the entry. A turnstile barred their way. Derec boldly thrust his tag into the slot of the machine. It blinked at him (non-positronic computer, he thought), lit up with the legend TABLE J-9/NO

FREE CHOICE, and ejected the tag. Derec took it and found that the turnstile gave under pressure from his knee. Ariel followed in a moment, but there was no time to breathe easily.

Beyond stretched an enormous room.

The whole City was one gigantic steel and concrete cavern, and this was the largest opening in it that they had seen, except for the slash of the moving ways. It went on, it seemed, forever. From the ceiling, which glowed coolly, descended pillars in an orderly array, short sections of transparent wall (apparently to minimize noise) and columns apparently full of tubes and cables. Between them stretched the tables — kilometers of tables, in ranks and files. All was confusion, and the Earthers were swarming past them while they stood gaping: the gleam of light on polished imitation wood, the clatter of plastic flatware on plastic plates, the babble of thousands of voices, the crying of children. Behind manual windows to their right and left, men and women dealt with those whose feeding could not be automated.

Overhead, light-signs indicated the rows, and at Ariel’s nudge Derec started the long trudge to row J.

Because of his Spacer conditioning, he had been thinking of this kitchen as a Spacer restaurant, with maybe a dozen tables, most for four people, some for two, a few for eight or ten. But these tables each seated — he guessed fifty on each side. Even after they reached row J, table 9 was a long way away.

Hesitantly, they approached it — at least it was plainly marked — and found two seats together. The people they passed were grumbling because choice was suspended. “Too many transients,” growled someone, and they felt guilty.

“Food is probably one of the few high spots of their days,” Ariel whispered.

They took their seats and looked at the raised section of the table before them.

NO FREE CHOICE glowed to the right. On the left was a panel that said: Chicken — Sundays, opt.

Mon. Fish — Fridays. opt. Sat. On Earth, there was a seven-day week, but Derec had no idea which day was which. There being no choice, he shrugged, glanced at Ariel, and pressed the contact. The panel immediately lit with: Zymosteak: Rare, Med.. Well-D? Not Sunday or Friday, he thought. Derec chose well-done and the sign vanished, replaced with Salad: Tonantzin, Calais, Del Fuego, Pepper Tom?

Ariel shrugged, glancing at him, and they chose, suppressing smiles; neither had heard of any of these dressings.

ORDER PLACED. That sign stared at them for several minutes. The Earthmen around them were a scruffy lot, and Derec realized that he had been subliminally aware of that for some time. Earthers were short, and tended to be plain, if not actually homely. Here and there a handsome man or a beautiful woman attracted admiring glances, but they were a minority.

At least Earth people weren’t starving, as Derec had expected. He knew vaguely that it took a major effort on the part of the population and its robots — restricted to the countryside — to feed Earth.

Standard food synthesizers were too expensive, and used much too much energy for Earth to afford. But a large minority of these people were fat, and many more were plump.

At this table they waited patiently, not talking or laughing as at other tables.

“Probably a table for Transients who don’t know each other,” Ariel said, low-toned. There were only a couple of quiet conversations at the table.

Presently, the food ended their embarrassment; a disk slid aside in front of each of them and another rose into position, the second one holding a covered server of plastic. When they removed the servers from the service disks, the latter closed smoothly.

The food looked like steak, baked potato with shrimp sauce, and a salad with dressing on the side.

Crusty, faintly yellow bread. It smelled marvelous and, to Derec’s amazement, it was natural. His first bite confirmed that: the rich, subtle, varied flavor of real food was unmistakable. And yet it wasn’t real food, either. Zymosteak? It was plain these people normally got meat only twice a week, with a chance at it on two more days. Four days out of seven.

“I can’t believe it’s so good,” Ariel said under the cover of the clatter of Earthers opening their servers.

Derec hadn’t realized he was so hungry; it hadn’t been that long since breakfast. Perhaps he’d gotten so bored with synthetic food that he’d been eating less and less.

He turned his attention to another problem. They had been served with amazing rapidity. He couldn’t remember service on any Spacer world, but he was sure it wasn’t this fast. There had to be automation behind the scenes. Of course, with no free choice, they had merely to drop the chosen kind of dressing into the server, clamp the lid down, and pop it into an oven for the few seconds required to cook the zymosteak to the desired degree. Probably ran it through the oven on a belt. With a good oven, there could have been ice cream on the same plate and it wouldn’t have melted before the meat was done.

Even so, row J was the last: ten rows of ten tables each; a hundred tables, each seating a hundred. This commissary was equipped to feed ten thousand people. Derec mentioned as much to Ariel, who was as dumbfounded as he. It wasn’t at capacity now; perhaps there were only six thousand people in the room.

On Aurora, a sports arena that seated ten thousand was a big one.

Halfway through the meal, Derec found his breath coming fast: it was too much. He felt trapped in this concrete cavern, felt that the spacious room was closing in, the ceiling, not low but not high, was the lid of a trap, the mobs of unconscious people around him weren’t real. They probably went all their lives without seeing the sun or open air, he thought, and that made it worse. With difficulty, he fought off the panic, panting.

When they had finished their meals, they put the servers and flatware back on the disk and pressed the same contact again, as they’d seen their neighbors do, and watched them vanish. The exit was on the opposite side. Once outside (an elaborate turnstile permitted exit only), Derec breathed more freely.

They were a little at a loss, this not being the way they’d come in, but the sound of the ways was obvious, and they soon found their way back to them.

“The trouble is, there’s no quiet, no private place to talk,” Ariel complained as they hesitated.

“I know. We want to go to the spaceport, but I don’t feel like unfolding the map here.”

“Look ….” Ariel fell silent until a chattering cluster of pre-teenage girls had passed, not even noticing them. “Look, the signs indicate that it isn’t ‘rush hour’ — whatever that is — R. David mentioned it.”

“Right, and lowly Fours like ourselves can ride the express platforms for many hours yet.”

They made their way up the strips of the local, down again to the motionless strip between the locals and the express, then up again, faster and faster. Derec realized uneasily that if they were to trip and fall at these speeds they might be seriously injured. Nor was there an attentive robot to rush forward and grasp their arms if they should fall. Earthers never fell, he supposed. They learned when very young.

On up they went, till the wind whipped their hair and stung their eyes, up and up to the top, where each platform had a windbreak at the front of it. There they found an empty one behind a platform occupied by a man with the Mad Hatter’s huge hat and sat, breathing heavily. Ariel grinned at him and Derec laughed back.

Carefully, in the shelter of the windbreak, they unfolded the map and studied it. They knew that they were in Webster Groves Section, proceeding east, and quickly found the spot, just as they passed under the sign that said SHREWSBURY SECTION. But study the map how they would, they saw no sign of any spaceport.

Derec looked blankly at Ariel. “It’s got to be here somewhere!”

A group of teenagers, mostly male, passed by two platforms away, one fleeing, the others pursuing, expertly negotiating the strips. A whistle shrilled, over the shrilling of the wind, and a blue-uniformed man waved his club and set off in pursuit of the children, who scattered down the strips. Adults scowled at them.

They studied it all over again, until the signs overhead said TOWER GROVE SECTOR.

“Possibly it isn’t on the map,” Ariel said. “Earthers are prejudiced against Spacers. They might not like to advertise the port.”

“If you have business there, you’re told how to find it, I suppose,” said Derec glumly. “We should have asked R. David how to get there.”

The expressway was not straight, and as Derec looked down now, he saw that the local had spun off; another came in, made a turn, and paralleled the expressway in its place. A storefront gave way to a palatial entry that faced the oncoming expressway obliquely; above the entry was a glowing marquee on which the back view of a woman wearing tight pants appeared. She vanished, replaced by the slogan IF I WIGGLE. She reappeared, peering archly over her shoulder at the viewer: WILL YOU FOLLOW?

Derec supposed that there were as many people in view as there had been in the kitchen, and the ways were not half full, maybe not a quarter full. “Rush hour must be when the ways are full,” he said.

“Yes. If they all go to work at the same time —” Ariel said, and he snapped his fingers.

“Rush, indeed.” They looked about and tried to picture the swarming mobs going up and down the strips multiplied by three or four.

OLD TOWN SECTOR.

“You know,” said Ariel, “Daneel Olivaw might have sat on this very platform, or at least ridden this very way.”

Derec nodded. He had no memory of ever having met the famous humaniform robot, Daneel Olivaw.

Daneel was designed to look exactly like a man — like Roj Nemmenuh Sarton, in fact, who had built his body. He had helped the Earthman, Plainclothesman Elijah Baley, solve the murder of Dr. Sarton, and later had gone to Solaria, where he had helped Baley solve another murder.

Han Fastolfe had built two humaniforms, the first with Sarton’s help. The intricate programming that enabled a humaniform to play the part of a human being, hampered as it was by the Three Laws, was a triumph of robotics that had never been recreated. Fastolfe had refused to make more than two such robots, and one had been deactivated. Daneel Olivaw, he supposed, was still extant, somewhere on Aurora.

“Look at that hat.”

Derec looked, then gaped. They had seen odd hats all along, but this woman’s head was a flower garden, except that many of the “flowers” were bows. As in all Earthly hats, though, there was a prominent band for the insertion of the rating ticket that entitled them to such things as a seat during rush hour.

“You know, maybe some of these people know the way to the port,” Ariel said.

That was a thought Derec had hoped she wouldn’t have, but he nodded tightly. Frankly, he didn’t want to speak to anyone. Perhaps because they were Earthers and he was a Spacer — with all his prejudices intact. It was a sore point with him that only Earth was exploring and settling new planets. It was not that he objected to Earth’s doing that, he objected that the Spacer worlds weren’t. Not these people’s fault, but —

Standing up, he leaned out and got the attention of a young man — a little older than himself, he thought — who was making his way toward an unoccupied platform.

“Pardon me, sir, could you direct us to the spaceport?”

The other’s rather blank expression broke into one of handsome good cheer. “Hey, gato, you do the Spacer accent ex good!” he exclaimed. “Too bad you don’t have the fabric to match, but that speech’ll get you on any subetheric for the asking!”

Derec concealed his confusion, lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Oh, ex, ex, that haughty look’s the highest!” The other glanced around, lost his cheer, and said quietly,

“But, look, this’s fun and all, but I wouldn’t try that speech in Yeast Town, savvy?” And with that, he was gone.

They looked at each other and shook their heads, dumbfounded.

“Do you think you could ape that — that speech of his?” Derec asked. Ariel shook her head again.

They were in a much more exalted district than Webster Groves; this Old Town Sector looked spanking new, with neat, clean, shiny buildings and prosperous-looking shops. Places of entertainment seemed more common and more lavish, as if the people who lived here had more leisure and more ration points, or money, or whichever it took, for entertainment.

“What did he mean, ‘subetherics’?”

Derec thought a moment. “Hyperwave broadcasts, I think. I’m not up on that technology, but I think at one time hyperwave transmission was called that. Probably cheaper than piping cables through all these man-made caves.”

Derec’s voice thinned as he glanced up to where the sun should be but wasn’t. Steadying his voice, he added, “I think he meant we could be entertainment stars pretending to be Spacers for Earther novels.”

They grinned at each other.

EAST ST. LOUIS SECTOR.

“What does the ‘ST’ mean?” Neither knew.

“Derec, we’re getting a long way from … home-kitchen. Maybe we should turn around and go back.”

Derec wasn’t happy about that either, but was reluctant to give up.

“Maybe one more try,” he said.

He looked around for someone to ask, and was struck by the buildings in this new sector. They seemed industrial; blank fronts, a minimum of signs, a lot of which didn’t even glow. All the color and gaiety seemed to have gone out of the City. Half the people on the ways had left in Old Town Sector, and no wonder.

Those who remained were far less prepossessing. They were poorly dressed and few wore hats, which meant, as Derec had gathered, that they had no passes for platform rides. Low ratings, like he and Ariel.

“What’s that funny smell?” Ariel asked.

Derec sniffed, became aware of an odor. Not bread. “Something living. Maybe the ventilators don’t work so good here.”

“You mean we’re smelling people?”

Derec felt a little sick himself at the thought.

“Pardon me, sir, could you direct me to the spaceport?” he asked a sullen man.

“Buzz off, gato.”

Seething, Derec waited for another prospect. A woman seized a seat on a platform with such an angry, triumphant expression that he crossed her off. Then a group of young men and women approached, four men and two women, the latter in gaudy, tight pants, the former all in brown corduroy. Derec repeated his question.

The first man looked at him sharply. “Whattaya tryina pull, gato? Spaceport! Spacer speech! Whod’ya thinkya are, huh?”

Clamping his jaw on his anger, Derec said, “I merely asked —”

“Oh, you merely ahsked, didja, haughty har? Whod’ya thinkya are, I asked you, gato.”

“I just wanted —”

“Clamp down, haughty har, don’t go gittin’ high horse with me. Keep a civil tongue, and also a polite face, hear?”

Seething, Derec fought for control. and another Earther spoke. He had a warm, dark-brown complexion and the eyes of a hawk: racial types had remained more distinct on Earth than on the Spacer worlds.

“Hey, Jake, I think he’s rilly a Spacer. Both of’em. Lookit those ex fabrics.”

He and Ariel were wearing plain shipsuits of synthetic fabric, a quiet, glossy substance in different shades of gray, hers lighter than his. Nobody had remarked on their clothes before, but nobody had looked closely at them.

Jake stared in amazed disbelief. “Naw!”

“Yeah, Jake,” one of the women shrilled, looking closely at Ariel. “And look at’em, both of’em — tall and handsome, like. Spacers!”

“Spacers!” said Jake in almost reverent tones. His eyes sharpened. “I always wanted t’meet a Spacer. Just to tell’em what I think of’em!”

“Yeah!”

“You think you’re so smart, doin’ your little social science investigation of ‘Earther’ society, huh, Spacer?” This time it sounded like a spit.

Derec’s anger cooled in apprehension; Ariel had unobtrusively taken his arm. “Thanks for your help, but we’ve got to be going.”

Again his accent aroused their ire.

They all began to jabber hostilely as he and Ariel stepped to one side, were struck by the wind, and fell behind on their slower strip.

“Stop! We ain’t done talkin’ atya!” cried Jake, and the Earthers swarmed off the platform level and started down.

Ariel gasped and Derec realized that they would soon be below them, on the slower strips, between them and the locals.

“Back up!” Derec said tensely, and in a moment they were squeezing between platforms. Their persecutors caught the change of direction instantly and were in full cry.

He hurried Ariel rapidly down the strips on the inside, their enemies gaining rapidly with a lifetime’s expertise. At the motionless median between expressways, he looked around wildly. There was no possibility of their climbing the reverse ways and staying ahead.

“In here!” said Ariel, and they dived into a kiosk and ran down the strip, not waiting for it to carry them.

They ran under the ways, hearing voices crying “Spacer! Spacer!” behind them.

At the other end, they had a choice of a moving strip that would take them up beside the expressway, or a maze of corridors at this level: poorly lit, poorly cleaned, sparsely populated, and thick with nameless organic odors.

There was quite a mob behind them, by the sound. Panting, they ran into the first corridor, took the first branching, then the next. They paused, listening. A derelict lay on a low platform beside a wide freight door, scruffy and unshaven. ST. LOUIS YEAST, PLANT 17, said the door.

Derec had a sudden flashing memory of having viewed a novel set on Earth in the medieval days, when a derelict like this turned out to be a crusty, cheerful, picaresque, heart-of-gold character who saved the day for the hero and became his closest buddy.

This one had more the attitude of a rat. Rousing himself with surprising energy, he listened, rubbed his graying whiskers, and, growling something about “stirring up the damn yeast farmers,” he dived into a small door beside the freight door, and slammed it. They heard it lock.

Voices and footfalls approached. They looked around. There were no tiny crannies to escape into, nothing but corridors wide enough for trucks to be driven through. Eventually they’d be run down wherever they went, however fast they ran. And their enemies no longer merely wanted to talk to Derec and Ariel. They had something much more direct in mind.

Chapter 5

ESCAPE?

ARIEL HEARD THEM coming. Heart pounding, she looked around again. No place to run to, no place to hide. After a blank moment Derec took the Key to Perihelion out of his pocket (Ariel gasped), put it in her palm, squeezed the four corners in succession, and closed both their hands around it fiercely. Ariel pushed the button as they held their breath.

The gray nothingness of Perihelion was around them, forever and ever to the limits of vision.

Derec let his breath out. “Frost! I thought they had us!”

“So did I!”

They were in no hurry to return to Earth, yet there was surely no more boring place in hyperspace or normal space, whichever it was, than Perihelion. They looked at each other, and Ariel shrugged, as Derec wiped his brow.

“Oh, no!”

They had moved at the same time, and, releasing each other, had drifted apart. With great presence of mind, Derec lunged for her. Ariel was frozen in shock; had she reached for him at the same time, she could have caught his hand. Too late.

They looked at each other tragically. Inexorably, they drifted further apart.

Ariel felt she had to make up for it. “I’ll throw you the Key!” she cried. “You go back to Earth — forget about me!”

“Nonsense! If you do, I’ll throw it back —”

At that moment his face went blank and he contorted himself into a knot; reaching for his soft shoes, he tore them off. Writhing with a practiced free-fall motion, he turned his back to her and hurled the first shoe away. With the reaction to that throw, he ceased to recede. Now he was rotating. He allowed himself to rotate twice, studying her, then writhed again, and threw the other shoe.

After a prolonged wait they seized each other, Ariel gasping in relief. To her surprise, she felt him shaking.

“Derec, you were marvelous! I thought we were lost!”

Derec grinned shakily. “What you said about throwing the Key gave me the idea.”

“Frost, I’m glad something did.” Ariel took the Key and pressed the corners again, and, with both gripping it, pushed the button.

R. David was against the wall in his usual place.

“Frost,” Ariel said, feeling ready to collapse. She sat down, knees shaking, and so did Derec.

“What did they mean, ‘your little social study of conditions on Earth’ — the yeast farmers?” Derec asked.

Ariel had no idea. They put the question to R. David, careful not to let him know that they had been in serious danger.

He said, “I have no access to news feed, but I believe that Dr. Avery made some public announcement about studying social conditions on Earth when he first contacted Earthly authorities to transfer rare metals for money. He promised not to send in humaniform robots, and of course it did not occur to the authorities that he would enter Earthly society himself.”

“Then how did he expect to make any study of Earth society?” Ariel asked, skeptical.

“He purchased many Earthly studies of the subject, and also me. While ostensibly studying these sources, he quietly developed the medical prophylaxis with which I treated you, and infiltrated Earth society in his own person, learning what kinds of identification and ration media he would need to have to pretend to be an Earthman. Some of those he bought openly as samples for his study. In short, over a period of an Earthly year he was occasionally in the news as he came and went from Earth. And from this study he was allegedly making, I suppose that rumors may have gone abroad that teams of Spacers are studying Earthly sociology on the spot. That is, of course, very unlikely.”

“Very,” said Derec, with a grimace. “Spacers are just not interested in the subject, and if they were, they wouldn’t take the health risk.”

Ariel could not care less about Earth’s rumors. “The important thing is to get back into space,” she said.

“You’re right,” Derec said. “I’m more than tired of concrete caves and the troglodytes that live in them.”

She smiled fleetingly at the term. “So the third thing is to find out how to get to the spaceport. The first being to have those directions to the nearest Personal repeated, and the second, to find a shoe store.”

Ariel grimaced, but said, “You’re right.”

When put to the question, R. David said, “The spaceport is located near New York, Miss Avery.”

They looked at each other blankly. Of course they knew that there were eight hundred Cities on Earth.

They had been thinking in terms of one giant City covering all Earth, the natural extension of their Earthly experience.

“What City is this, then?” Ariel asked.

“The City of Saint Louis,” said R. David. “It is on the same continent as New York, so travel is facilitated. One may take the train, and for a third of the distance the way is enclosed and roofed over. It takes less than twelve hours — half an Earthly rotation, Mr. Avery.” He had detected the question on Derec’s face.

Ariel had no idea what a “train” might be, and wasn’t happy about its being enclosed — she visualized something like the expressway. She looked at Derec, who looked equally unhappy.

“Do we have the money — the rating or whatever — to go on the train?” Derec asked dubiously.

R. David said, “Your travel vouchers have not been touched, but I believe there is an inadequate amount. As Fours, you do not rate much, nor do many Earth people often travel between Cities.”

“Even though we are Transients?”

“You are Transients in this sector, but not necessarily in this City.”

“We’d better visit the Personal first,” said Ariel tiredly. “We’ll think it over when we get back.”

R. David repeated his directions to the Personals, which turned out to be in opposite directions. Rather reluctantly, they split up, and Derec left with a backward glance. Ariel walked slowly toward the women’s Personal, hoping Derec’s stockinged feet would not be too noticeable.

Since this was the Personal assigned to her, Ariel found a shower cubby with the same number as the one on her tag, and took a shower. Again, no towels; she saw a woman carrying a little cloth satchel into a similar cubby and presumed it contained a towel, combs, and so on. She wouldn’t need one, as short a time as they expected to be on Earth. She had, of course, brought a comb, though she should see about getting a brush. Fortunately, her hair wasn’t long.

She made her way back to Sub-Section G, Corridor M, Sub-Corridor 16, Apartment 21, without difficulty, hardly seeing the crowds of Earthers who swarmed through the passageways.

Derec was back before her and full of energy. Despite their brush with the mob, he wanted to go check out the “train station.” He was careful not to say so in front of R. David, who might think it dangerous, but she thought he wanted to see if they could devise a method of stowing away.

Showing them on the map, R. David gave them directions that would take them, by the route they had previously followed, to Old Town and something called the Gateway Arch Plaza. The station was beneath that. They would pass several shoe stores on the way.

Ariel felt distinctly nervous as they threaded their way again through the corridors to the junction and took the down ramp, but nobody paid any attention to them. She would have liked to have changed clothes, but their shipsuits were all they had, and they weren’t all that conspicuous. It still wasn’t rush hour, so they had the freedom of the express platforms, and went straight up to them on the eastbound side.

The clerk in the shoe store was a human, a plump, youngish woman, older than Ariel. She quirked her mouth in a half-humorous fashion at Derec’s socks and said, “Been running the strips, eh?” She produced neat, cheap shoes expeditiously, checked his ration tag in her machine, accepted the money tag, and waved them away, calling, “Next time be more careful of the edges!”

Back to the expressway.

She heard Derec’s breath speed up beside her, as Old Town Sector came rushing toward them, but they saw none of the yeast farmers from before — less than an hour ago.

“I’ll walk the rest of the way before I’ll ride this thing into — Yeast Town,” she said, leaning over to shout at Derec.

“Yeah,” he said weakly. Ariel saw that he was staring up at the high ceiling, which was higher here than in Webster Groves. There was probably nothing overhead but the roof of the City, for here the ways were in a great slash through the building blocks. No matter — he was having a claustrophobic attack.

Ariel sympathized — she had had several of them herself. At the moment it was the crowds, not the oppressive buildings, that made her own breath come short.

Before she could attempt to reassure him, Derec gripped her arm and pointed: Gateway-Arch Plaza Exit. They descended hastily and rode the ramp down under the ways, found a sign pointing north, and followed it to a localway, also plainly marked.

Presently they entered the Gateway-Arch Plaza.

It was enormous. Gaping like rubes, they stepped out of the way of swarms of chattering Earthers, and frankly stared. The Gateway Arch itself was smaller, perhaps, than the Pillar of the Dawn on Aurora that commemorated the early pioneers, and surely was less moving than the memorial at the pillar’s base, where outstanding men and women of each generation were honored. But at a hundred ninety meters tall, the arch was no small monument. Its span was nearly equal to its height, and the roof was another ten meters above it. It was all matte stainless steel, ancient looking but in good repair.

The room that enclosed the whole mastodonic fabrication was commensurate in size, over two hundred meters in diameter, its circular walls a cliff of concrete and metal around the arch. This cliff was covered with the balconies of high-rated apartments.

Derec walked boldly toward the lower area between the feet of the arch, and Ariel followed, inwardly amused at the awe on the faces of some of the Earthmen — some showed unmistakable signs of agoraphobia, exposed to this much open space.

Below the arch was a museum dating from pre-spaceflight times, which might have been interesting, but they were looking for a train station. Quietly determined to ask no directions, they wasted half an hour, some of it in looking at exhibits. Ariel was struck by the unfinished look of the items people used in the pre-industrial age, all made by crude hand methods. Derec pointed out a plaque that stated that, in the old days, citizens had ridden a sort of tramway up inside the arch

“Agoraphobia,” he said, echoing her thought.

Ariel nodded and led him briskly out of the museum. It felt like underground to her, and the crowds of Earthers swarming around were bringing on another claustrophobic attack. She felt much more sympathetic to them and less inclined to sneer at Earthly phobias.

They had to leave the plaza itself to find the route to the station; they had been following the plaza signs and hadn’t noticed the station signs when they left the localway. The station was a level or two deeper, and a different route took them there.

There were fewer people here, but below the passenger level they found a series of freightways crisscrossing the City, which carried heavy items in bulk containers. Many men in rough clothing rode these ways in handling carts, shunting the big containers off the belts at their destinations. These freightways all traveled at a walking pace, no more.

At the station they also found the terminus of a tube system for small capsules. Letters and small items — parcel post — could be blown about the City very rapidly by this system, and Derec became quite excited by it.

He’d seen a system like this before, on a somewhat different scale. The Robot City robots had generated a tremendous vacuum as a side effect of their Key-manufacturing facility, and Derec and Ariel had ridden the vacuum tubes more than once when they were in a hurry.

But here on Earth they were using the same technology not because they had a vacuum they could use; they had to create a vacuum to make it work. In one form or another, Derec knew, vacuum tubes like these had been used since the early industrial age — and Earth had apparently never discarded their use, because on Earth they made sense.

“Much more efficient than sending a car with a robot,” he said.

It is if your houses are close together, Ariel thought. On the Spacer worlds, they were scattered.

The station seemed to deal mostly in inter-urban freight, but there was a window for passenger traffic.

They avoided it, and prowled along the cars.

The train was no moving beltway, as Ariel had expected. Derec was clearly disappointed; he had expected something like the expressway. These were cars with ridiculously tiny wheels, and after a while Derec decided that they used magnetic levitation under speed. It was a very old technique.

“Now I see what R. David meant by saying that the way is largely roofed over,” Ariel said.

“Twelve hours in one of those, eh?” Derec said, bleakly.

The cars had no windows.

“Hey! Hey, you! You kids!”

They turned, concealing their apprehension.

A rough-looking stranger approached, wearing blue canvas and a peaked cap with stripes of pale gray and darker blue-gray, very distinctive. CONTINENTAL RAILROAD, said the emblem on his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking at the train, sir,” said Derec, after a moment, trying to mimic the Earth dialect.

The other did not notice that. He closed in and examined them sharply, a beefy individual, taller than either of them and looking as if he worked out every day.

“Why?” he asked, irritably.

“School assignment, sir,” said Ariel, thinking quickly.

He looked at her sharply again in her tight shipsuit, and she realized with a despairing feeling that she no longer had the figure of a schoolgirl. But he nodded, more in appreciation of her than in agreement, and said, more reasonably, “A study of the Continental system, eh? Well, you’ll not learn much by prowling the yards. Read your books. But I can show you the marshaling yard and the loading docks. You should’ve brought visual recorders.”

Evidently their new acquaintance — Peter, or Dieter, Scanlan — had little to do at the moment and was bored. Taking them briskly back the way they had come, he showed them where the cars were pulled aside, their doors opened, and men in handling machines carried forth containers of assorted cargo.

“That lot is bulk cargo, mostly — wheat from Kansas and points north,” Scanlan shouted over the constant rumble of wheels and the whine of electric motors. “Now, over there — see those big blue cars? — that’s pigs of metals from the seawater refineries on the Gulf, down south-away. You’ll see some manufactured goods going out, and quite a bit coming in — St. Louis mostly exports food, especially gourmet items. Not a big manufacturing city like Detroit.”

What Ariel saw was that each of these big cars was crammed full of containers cunningly stacked to fill every corner, leaving no wasted space for even a rat to hide in.

“Come this way,” said Scanlan, and he put them on a tiny truck like a motorized platform.

Its control was purely manual and Ariel fought down fear as she joined the men on it. Scanlan sent it hurtling around the fringes of activity to dive into a bright tunnel, which branched, branched again, and minutes later and two kilometers away he braked to a halt at a balcony.

They looked down on the marshaling yards.

“Trains are made up here,” he shouted — it was noisy here, too.

Ariel looked, and realized why they were called “trains”: each was a long series of units like link sausages. The cars were the units. They were being driven individually along the floor to the marked

“rails” or roads painted on the floor, to the trains they were to make up. Each train was made up in a specific order.

“Over there to your left — passenger train for the West Coast. Three cars in blue, with silver and gold trim.”

It was crawling slowly on its wheels toward, she supposed, the ticket window and embarking ramp.

Once in the tunnels the cars would be lifted off their wheels by the magnetic rails.

On their right was a train of a hundred cars, in various colors according to what cargo they carried. That seemed to be the ratio of passengers to freight, except that there were more freight trains than passenger trains.

“Computer-controlled,” shouted Scanlan. ‘There’s a driver in each car for safety, but the computer does most of the placing. It knows where each car goes in the train. They pick up new cars at each stop on the front end, and drop off cars from the tail. The computer also knows which container is in each car, and what’s in each container.

“Down here!”

Scanlan started the vehicle up again, whirled them down and down, braked in a flood of light. Black water lapped ahead of them, boats bobbing on it under the low ceiling.

“The Mississippi,” he said, hissing like a snake. “Transshipment docks!”

They’d seen enough, but had to submit to another half-hour of education on a subject they could not — now — care less about.

They weren’t going to be using the train.

Chapter 6

STUDIES IN SOCIOLOGY

DEREC SIGHED WITH relief when they reentered the cheerless little apartment.

“I’m — tired,” said Ariel. “I need to rest.”

“Sure, you go lie down,” said Derec, instantly concerned and quite understanding. He was exhausted and disappointed also. It had been a long day.

R. David stepped forward and unnecessarily showed her how to work the dimmer in the bedroom. It felt good to be back where robotic concern, the basis of all truly civilized societies, was available.

Derec sat down, thinking of that, and felt vaguely dissatisfied. He had always taken that statement for granted, and considered Earth uncivilized, in the lofty Spacer manner. No wonder, he thought slowly, that Spacers are resented on Earth. Because those people seemed to get along quite well without robots. That commissary might seem like an animal feeding trough to the overrefined sensibilities of a Spacer, but was that just? Human beings could adapt to a wide variety of societies. If Earthers were adapted to a way of life that gave Spacers the heebie-jeebies, it did not necessarily follow that Earth society was inferior.

True, Earth’s Cities were the end product of an artificial process, and were highly unstable. If power supplies were interrupted for an hour, every human in the City would die of asphyxiation. Water was nearly as critical, and food almost as critical as water. Nor could the people leave the Cities in case of emergency; there was no place to go, and in any case, they could not bear the open air.

That train system could not begin to evacuate them, assuming it had power when the City didn’t.

Was not Spacer society, though, with its dependence on robots, in its way just as artificial and dependent as Earth’s? It was a novel and alarming thought. True, the robots could not all be simultaneously stricken by some plague, nor would all the factories shut down and not be reopened before the last robot wore out. They were not going to be deprived of their robots and robotic care.

No, Derec thought uneasily, it was a more serious problem than that. More serious even than Spacers’ reliance on robots to save them from their own folly. Derec had had all he could do to keep from stopping and looking back to watch their pursuers being seized by the robots he knew must be there. Beyond that reliance, which was actually quite trivial, was the freezing of their whole society.

When a robot was unable to respond, caught between conflicting demands of the Laws of Robotics, it was said to be in “mental freeze-out.” All of Spacer society, he suspected, might be in mental freeze-out, or at least in stasis. It was the Earthers, after all, who were settling the galaxy.

Somberly, he thought: The only solution might be to give up robots. Or at least restrict their numbers.

In the meantime, Dr. Avery had some mad scheme for spreading advanced robots all across a planet, and then, apparently, peopling it with humans.

With that thought in his mind, Derec drifted off to sleep, and was not conscious of R. David springing forward to keep him from falling off the couch.

Derec dreamed.

He had swollen to enormous size, and larger, and larger. He was a planet, and something was crawling across his stomach. Raising his head and peering at the swollen dome of his belly, he saw that it was a city. Not an Earthly City, but a city of buildings separated by streets. A city populated by robots, ever-changing as buildings were built, torn down, rebuilt in different shapes. It was Robot City, and it spread around his equator.

He watched in fascination for a time, in fascination and horror — this was wrong, wrong, it was a spreading disease — and then he heard Ariel’s voice.

No! The Human Medical Team was carrying her lifeless body sadly toward the crematorium. He struggled to move, to cry out … but he no longer had hands, or a voice Ariel was shaking him awake; he lay in a cramped position on the couch. R. David hovered in concern behind her.

“You were sleeping peacefully, then started struggling when you heard my voice. Sorry.”

“Nothing,” he managed. “Just a nightmare.”

“Ah.” She turned to R. David and began to question him while Derec sat on the couch, arms dangling, still badly shaken by the nightmare, telling himself it was only a dream. Only a dream.

But it gripped him, shook him as badly as the pursuit by the yeast farmers had done. He threw it off and looked up as Ariel turned to him.

“I’ve been asking about news,” she said in a complaining tone. “There’s no broadcast reception in this apartment, not of any kind. Frost! No news, no entertainment — there’s only the book-viewer. Not even an audio for music!”

“This apartment is for solitary Step Threes of various ratings,” said R. David soothingly. “Step Threes are expected to consume their entertainment at the public facilities.”

“It’s probably for youngsters with low-paying entry-level jobs, just getting away from their parents,”

Derec said vaguely.

He looked closely at Ariel. During their excursions on the expressway she had seemed alive, vital, healthy. Now she seemed tired, petulant, lethargic. Fear gripped his heart like a fist.

“I’m tired of being cooped up. I want out!” she said.

Derec had to slow his own breathing and wait till his heart stopped pounding. “So do I,” he said, his tone so controlled that despite her lethargy she glanced quickly at him.

R. David’s face was not made to express his concern. “Few Earth people leave their Cities, but there are some with a perverse attraction for openness and isolation. These direct the robots of the mines and farms, and man certain industrial facilities distant from the Cities for safety reasons. Other Earthers, wishing to become Settlers, join conditioning schools that accustom them to space and openness.”

“Settlers!” said Ariel with surprise.

“Of course,” said Derec wonderingly. “We know Earth people never leave their Cities; we also know that they alone are settling new planets. We should have made the connection long since. Conditioning is the only answer.”

“Could we join one of these schools?” she asked.

“It would take us outdoors,” said Derec uncertainly. But as he thought about it he shook his head. “I suspect that applicants for Settler worlds are investigated pretty strictly.”

“Oh. Then — the other?”

Derec didn’t know. “If we could get a job on a farm, directing robots …” He turned to R. David. “How are these workers chosen?”

“I am not sure of the details, but I suppose that one must apply for the job,” said R. David.

Something Scanlan had said occurred to Derec. “Food and other raw materials are brought in from the surrounding areas by truck,” he said. “Maybe, if we got jobs driving trucks —”

He didn’t care to finish the sentence, not knowing to what extent R. David would condone violations of Earth laws. Ariel caught his meaning at once however and her eyes brightened.

How long it would take to drive a distance that a train could travel in twelve hours, he didn’t know.

What kind of pursuit they could expect, he had no idea. But nothing else seemed even remotely feasible.

R. David told them how to find out what they needed to know: the nearest communo would give them most of the information they needed for a start. Ariel’s mood had lifted again, and again they ventured forth.

They consulted the directory at the communo, found Job Service, and checked Farms — truck drivers.

A number of company names were listed, and Derec chose the Missouri Farm Company at random. It immediately transmitted an application form for them, which they could fill out by answering verbally when the pointer moved from question to question.

The first question was, Do you have a driver’s license?

Derec sighed and canceled everything, went back to the menu, and did some exploring.

“I wish there was an information robot we could call up and ask,” he said, frustrated.

It turned out that many Earthers who never went outside the City needed to know how to drive. There were schools, which taught them according to the regulations — and the instructions and regulations, being government-standardized, were readily available. They only had to take a book card and go to a library, then pay to have them printed off.

Another request gave them a map of the area, with YOU ARE HERE labeled and TARGET: Library indicated. They compared that to their own map, and nodded.

Opening the door of the communo booth made it switch back from opaque to clear, and they were given a sour look by the middle-aged fellow waiting for it.

“Canntchee find a private place out of people’s way?” he growled, lurching past them.

Derec turned red, half with anger, half with embarrassment. Ariel was equally angry and much less embarrassed.

They walked away, seething, and observed that the playground was largely deserted. It was getting late.

“I hope we’re not too late,” he said.

“Yes.” After a moment, Ariel said, “I suppose Earthers have a lot of trouble courting.”

She had a point. No pleasant, nearly empty gardens for them to walk in on fine days; no large rambling mansions to prowl through on wet ones. What did they do? Derec wondered what he and Ariel might have done, back in his unremembered past.

It had been the leading edge of the rush hour when they had arrived back home from the train station.

Now all that was over, and the people were leaving the section kitchen in droves. They had only eaten twice today, both times fairly early — and neither had eaten much on the ship.

“Frost, they’re still open,” said Derec. “I thought we’d go hungry all night.”

“So did I,” said Ariel. The line moved rapidly and they were soon in, and were astonished to find that free choice had not been suspended. They were assigned to table F-3 this time. The place, with only a couple of thousand people in it, seemed deserted.

The table, when they found it, had probably been used by three or four relays of diners for the evening meal, but it was surprisingly clean and neat. They saw Earthers industriously wiping up their places prior to leaving. Others, attendants, came around with cleansing utensils that seemed almost superfluous; some sprayed the places with steam guns to sterilize them.

They were far enough from their neighbors to speak freely in low tones. “I suppose there are strong social forces to make them clean up their places,” Ariel said.

Derec thought about it, nodded. Mere laws could not have such force. “I suppose they train their kids: Clean up your places. What’ll the neighbors think?”

“The forces for conformity to social norms must be tremendous,” she said. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“It makes their whole civilization possible. And are we that different?” he asked.

Ariel shook her head somberly. She had been exiled for violating some of those norms.

They were given three choices: Zymosteak, again, Sweet-and-Pungent Zymopork, and Pseudo-Chicken Casserole. Side dishes included such things as salads and fruit plates, Hearty Hungarian Goulash, Vegetable Pseudo-Beef Stew, and so on. They chose the Zymopork and the casserole, and browsed among the side dishes, almost famishing from the smell of the food around them.

“At least, seated here in the middle, we can watch the families,” Ariel said.

“Right. I was wondering if it would be acceptable to divide our dishes with each other. But see that family with the four kids — the kids are swapping around ad lib.”

“Yes — and the parents. Different side dishes come with different main courses, and they’re trading off.”

The food arrived at that point, and they wasted no more time watching others eat.

When they had finished and exited the kitchen, Derec paused, glancing around.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s still light,” he said. “It should be getting dark.”

She laughed nervously. They moved aside, out of the way, and strolled slowly toward the ways. “I know what you mean. Especially for us, since we got up well before what these people consider the dawn. But, of course, the lights will never dim.”

They rode the localway for a short distance, changed ways, and presently found themselves at a massive entrance flanked with stone lions.

“Stone!” said Ariel, sounding astonished. “I supposed they’d be plastic or something.”

“Or nothing,” said Derec. He liked libraries, though people rarely visited them on the Spacer worlds. It was simpler just to call them up and have the books transmitted over your phone.

“I suppose many apartments on Earth must be equipped to receive book transmissions,” he said.

“In higher social classes,” Ariel said wryly, and he laughed. Spacers though they were, they were not masquerading merely as Earthers, but as low-rated Earthers.

Crowds of people, as usual on Earth, swarmed up and down the ornamental steps that led up to the entry. Some sat on the steps or the balusters, talking, laughing, eating or drinking, and many reading. A group of children played on one of the lions, their book-viewers laid carefully between its paws. Inside were uniformed guards with clubs and surprisingly cheerful expressions, sober people of all ages swarming about, many of them young, and people sitting around tables. Virtually every terminal was in use.

“This must be the library’s rush hour,” Derec whispered.

With school out for the day, people off work and looking for the cheapest entertainment — it probably was.

At length they found an unused terminal and did a twenty-minute search for the information, making sure they had all they needed. Derec had a moment of doubt when he inserted his money tab into the slot.

This metal tab was not unlike the credit-transfer system on the Spacer worlds. But he had no idea what formalities were employed here, or how much money there was in this account.

ACCEPTED, said the blinking transparency, and the machine tinkled a tune to let them know it was copying the information on their card.

“We’ve got it,” he said, breathing more easily. “Let’s go.”

Out of the library, down the steps, to the right. They marched more slowly than they had at the beginning of the day. Derec was as tired as Ariel looked.

“It’s been a long day,” he said hollowly.

“And we’ve come a long way,” she added.

Turn, and turn again, and they confronted a smaller marquee than one they’d seen in Old Town Sector: WILL YOU FOLLOW?

“Not tonight, honey,” said Derec vaguely. “I’m too tired.”

“We didn’t come by that, Derec,” Ariel said, gripping his arm.

“I know,” he said tiredly. “We’ve gotten turned around.”

They retraced their steps, and now couldn’t find the library. After quite a while they paused, gray-faced with weariness and strain, before a window showing dresses and hats of incredible fabrics, some of which glowed. Cheap finery. Men and women peered through windows, pointed out things they’d like but would probably never afford. Not far from them a young man in tight blue pants and silver pseudo-leather jacket, with elaborately coiffed hair, stood next to a girl who seemed much older than Ariel and who wore even tighter violet pants and a nearly transparent, slashed top. Her hair was blonde and long on one side and short and red on the other, and her eyes were cynical and hard.

This was a major thoroughfare, though it was not part of the moving way system. It ought to join to the ways somewhere, but didn’t seem to. They had no idea which way to go.

“Just like a couple of Transients,” said Derec glumly. “We can’t be far from the ways, but we could spend an hour blundering around looking for them.”

The youth with the tough expression and the silvery jacket turned toward them.

“Transients, eh?” he said. He looked them up and down. The hard-featured young woman looked at them curiously also.

Derec braced himself.

Chapter 7

BACK TO SCHOOL

“THAT WAY TWO blocks, take the up ramp,” the young tough said courteously, and the hard-featured young woman looked sympathetically at them.

“Thank you,” said Derec, and Ariel, as startled as he, echoed him.

Their rescuers had forgotten them before they were out of sight, but Derec and Ariel remembered them all the way home.

The section kitchen had become a familiar place by the time of their third meal, next morning. Much of the shock of enormous rooms, enormous numbers of loud talking Earthers, of being ignored amid mobs, was gone. After breakfast, out into the monotonous every-day of the ways, they rode south toward the edge of the sprawling megalopolis. Finally, in a section called Mattese, they found the driving school they sought.

They had chosen it because it was a “private” school. Though regulated by the government, it counted as a luxury, and one paid for the privilege of learning here, a concept that bemused the Spacers.

“Yes, please?”

The receptionist was not the robot the term called to their minds, but a middle-aged woman — though Earthers aged fast by Spacer standards; she was probably quite young, perhaps no more than forty-five or fifty.

“Derec and Ariel Avery,” Derec said apologetically, trying again to imitate the Earth dialect.

“Oh, yes, new students. You’re a bit early, but that’s good — you have to do your forms.”

They thought they’d already done the forms over the communo, but took the papers and sat down.

These forms were simple and asked primarily how much experience they’d had with automobiles and something called “models.”

“Can that mean what I think it does?” Ariel asked. Derec could only shrug.

They had sweated over the application last night, for it asked for their schooling, but R. David had given them the names of schools in the City they might have gone to. They hoped the driving school would be lax in checking up. Of course, sooner or later their imposture would be detected, but even one day, they calculated

“You may see Ms. Winters now,” said the receptionist, smiling kindly.

Ms. Winters kept them waiting in an outer office for a moment while she examined their forms, and Ariel nudged Derec.

“Did you hear that receptionist? She was trying to copy our accent!”

Ms. Winters called them in, asked a question or two, nodded, and, taking the forms, left with a brief

“Wait just a moment.” It hadn’t taken her long, as they had indicated no experience.

She hadn’t closed the door completely.

“Red? Those two students, the brother and sister … upper-rating children slumming, or kicked out of the house, or something.” Doubtfully, she added, “Maybe student reporters, checking up on the schooling system, or something.”

“Who cares?” came a gruff-sounding male voice. ‘They got money, they want to learn, we sell schoolin’.

Send’em on out.”

With a dazzling smile, Ms. Winters ushered them through the farther door into a large room with a number of carrels within it. Students were entering in a steady stream from a different door and occupying carrels and other learning stations farther down.

Red confronted them, a blocky fellow with thinning sandy hair and a handsome face, his body one solid slab of muscle. He looked them over shrewdly for a moment, nodded, gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Drivin’s a hands-on schoolin’,” he said bluntly. “You either learn it with your reflexes or else you don’t learn it. It ain’t so different from learnin’ to ride the ways, though you don’t remember how you did that.”

It was a set speech, and went on in that vein for about three minutes. Red’s face remained blank.

Derec was impressed despite his prejudices. Education among Spacers, as little of it as he could remember, was a more gracious process, lavishly supported by ever-patient robots. It was clear that this indifferent man proposed to push them into the water and watch to see if they drowned. If they did not, they would be rewarded only by his good opinion.

“… it’s your money and your time, so I know you’ll do your best and not waste either.”

Though his experience with different machines must be far greater than this Earther’s, Derec wryly found that Red’s good opinion was a thing worth striving for.

The carrels were cockpits containing mockups of the control sets of various kinds of vehicles, and trimensionals of the roadways. Red gave them a brief instruction on the rules of the road and the operation of the craft, showed them a printed set of instructions on the right and of rules on the left, and said, “Do it, gatos.”

Derec and Ariel grinned faintly at each other, and did it for about half an hour.

Red came by at the end of the time, sucking on the stem of a cup, if a cup had a stem, and exhaling smoke courteously away from them. He bent and looked on the back sides of the carrels.

“You did good,” he said, his eyebrows expressing more than his voice. “You did real good, for beginners.”

Maybe too good, Derec thought uneasily.

Red looked at them, blew smoke thoughtfully, and said, “Come down here to the models.”

The models were as they had supposed, small-scale versions of various vehicles they’d have to learn to drive in order to graduate, from one-man scooters to big transport trucks. They were given models of four-person passenger cars marked POLICE, and control sets, the models being, of course, remote-controlled.

This was an interactive game with a vengeance, and the other students who had advanced this far grinned at them and made room. Derec started his car slowly, nearly got run over by a big truck, speeded up, nearly went out of the lane going around a corner, cut too sharply, but gradually began to get the hang of it.

Then a white-gleaming ambulance with red crosses on its doors and top made a left turn from the outside lane, the operator crying “Oops!” belatedly as he realized where he was. Derec avoided him skillfully and slipped past. After a moment his controls froze, as did the ambulance’s. The ambulance operator grimaced, then grinned ruefully, and they all looked at a trimensional screen to one side.

A-9 ILLEGAL TURN, NO SIGNALS. P-3, FAILURE TO APPREHEND TRAFFIC VIOLATOR.

“Frost. Swim or drown,” Derec muttered, and the girl next to him laughed.

It wasn’t as easy as it looked, and he wasn’t thinking only of not knowing the rules — such as that a police car was expected to act like a police car. The streets were full of vehicles, and he had to be prepared to predict their moves. None of his Spacer training was of much use here. To his mortification, he rammed a fire engine at one stopping, not seeing the signal lights in time. It didn’t help that Ariel slaughtered half a dozen pedestrians at a place where the motorway and pedestrian levels merged. The other students were far better, but cheerful about it, or Derec couldn’t have stood it.

It was humiliating.

After an hour of exhilarating play, during which they got much better, Red came by and said, “Take a break, all; give the second team a chance.”

The students relinquished their controls, leaving the vehicles in mid-street, and trooped out, old and young alike, to some kind of refectory. Red caught Derec’s eye, nodded to Ariel; they stepped aside.

“I’ve been watching the monitor record. You’re not so swift on models, where I was expectin’ you t’

shine,” he said. “Figured you’d have lots of experience on them.”

He paused and eyed them questioningly, but they just nodded. Shrugging, Red said, “I’m gonna put you on trucks. Big ones. You ever been outside?”

Chilled, Derec said, “What?”

“Outside the City,” Red said patiently.

“Well —” Derec exchanged a glance with Ariel. “Yeah. We’ve, uh, we’ve given it a try.”

“Ever have nightmares about it?”

“What? No.”

Red nodded shrewdly. “The shrinks have all kinds tests, but one thing talks true: nightmares. Thing is, you’re young, you could be conditioned easily if you aren’t what shrinks call phobic. That means, if you don’t have nightmares. Big money in driving the big rigs outside — not many people to do this kind of job.

Most trucks are computer-controlled, or remote-controlled — but even remote-control ops get upset, break down, have nightmares. They even use a lot of robot drivers.”

“Really?”

Red shrugged. “Why not? They’re not takin’ anybody’s job away. Not many people will do that kind of work. If you can do it — and will — it pays real good.”

Derec and Ariel looked at each other.

“Don’t have to decide right away,” Red said shrewdly. “I know — people’d think you’re queer, wanting to go outside. And I should tell you, I get a bounty on every prospect I send out.”

He looked at them with a hint of humor. “Oh, yeah, you got to apply for the job — outside.”

He paused for an answer, and Derec said slowly, “Well, can we think it over? I mean, we don’t know anything about trucks —”

“I’ll put you on simulators now — c’mon back here.”

At the back of the room were giant simulators they had to climb up into — three of them.

“Most of the trucks we train on are for inside the City, and they’re pretty small. Lots of competition for the driver jobs on them — most freight goes by the freightways, naturally, and driving the freight-handler trucks is a different department of the Transportation Bureau. Lots of competition for those jobs, too.

But these big babies go beggin’. Yet they’re real easy to learn.”

The important thing was remembering that one had a long “tail” behind one. They moved. slowly when maneuvering, though, and anyone who had landed a spaceship could learn this readily enough.

“Give it half an hour or so, an’ we’ll look at your records.”

It was closer to an hour, and Derec and Ariel were both tired when Red approached them again.

“You done real good,” he said, looking at a print-out. “You were made for outside drivin’. You do much better where you don’t have to watch out for traffic.” He looked at them with a faint smile. “It’s never as frantic in the motorways as in our model. Usually they’re wide open and empty.. But you learn about traffic in traffic.”

“How’d we do?” Ariel asked, imitating his accent fairly well, to Derec’s ear.

“Good enough to make it worth your while to go on,” said Red. “A week’s training, and I’ll be sending you out to Mattell Trucking & Transport. Yes?”

Ms. Winters, from the inner office, had approached him. She glanced at them curiously.

“You two go take a break, drink some fruit juice or something, and I’ll talk to you in fifteen minutes.”

When they were out of sight, Ariel said, “Keep on going.”

“I thought so, but I couldn’t be sure,” Derec said.

“I suppose she checked out our education, or something,” Ariel said glumly.

“Yes, well, it had to happen. And we’ve had an hour’s worth of training on big trucks.” Derec was quite buoyant. “I doubt very much if they are equipped to chase stolen trucks across the countryside. At least, not well equipped. How many Earthers would not only steal a big truck, but take off across country?”

“We haven’t stolen our truck yet,” Ariel said gloomily.

Derec found himself joining her in gloom as they made their way back to the expressway; and then they found it jammed and had to stand on the lower-ratings’ level. It traveled just as fast, but it was a tiring nuisance.

They stopped off at the kitchen for a light lunch, and at the Personals on the way back to the apartment.

Derec made his way back to Sub-Section G, Corridor M, Sub-Corridor 16, Apartment 21, from the Personal, with a skill that was by now automatic. Then he sat and waited. And waited.

Derec was quite concerned by the time Ariel returned, and became more concerned with one look at her. She had taken twice as long as he, and looked dull.

“What took you so long?”

“I got lost,” she said lusterlessly.

“You look — tired. You want — to lie down?” Derec’s voice kept catching with his fear.

“I guess.”

But Ariel sat down on the couch and didn’t move. She didn’t respond to anything Derec said. After a long while she got up and dragged herself into the bedroom.

Derec was worried and restless. He had wanted to discuss ways and means of getting a truck, but that was impossible under the circumstances. She obviously had at least a mild fever.

Instead, he spent the afternoon viewing books. Some of Dr. Avery’s local collection were Earthly novels; some were documentaries; some were volumes of statistics about population densities, yeast production, and so on. It was not the most stimulating reading he’d ever done, but Derec read or viewed the documentaries — some were print, some audiovisual.

Presently he found that it was late and he was hungry, but he hesitated. “R. David, please check on Ariel and see if she is awake. If so, ask if she would like to accompany me to the section kitchen.”

The robot did so, found her awake, and repeated the answer Derec had heard: “No, Mr. Avery, Miss Avery does not feel hungry and requires no food.”

He hesitated about leaving her. If she felt hungry later, he could accompany her to the kitchen door, but doubted he’d be allowed in again tonight. Still, he could hang around outside and hope he wasn’t questioned by a policeman. In any case, he himself was quite hungry despite his worry over Ariel.

He went out, stopping off at the Personal again and getting a drink from a public fountain outside it, then threaded the maze to the section kitchen. This time he got table J-10, and there was a longer wait; he saw that the room was near capacity. There weren’t two adjoining spaces free at the table, as the Earthers tended to spread out as much as possible.

It was a gloomy meal, alone amid so many.

Then he retraced his weary route. I suppose a person could get used to this, he thought. It’s inconvenient, but you don’t miss what you never had. The Earthers obviously didn’t give it a thought.

Questioned on this subject, R. David said, “It is not necessary for all Earth people to make this trek every time, of course. Holders of higher steps in each rating have such things as larger apartments, activated wash basins, subetherics, and so on. Of course, it is far more efficient to supply one section kitchen for four or five thousand households than to supply a room for cooking in each of these apartments, plus a cooker, food storage devices, food delivery, and so on. Just so with subetherics, when one big machine can replace a thousand small ones.”

“But some people do have these things, and convenient laundry facilities in Personal, without having to go to the section laundry. Don’t the have-nots resent these privileges?”

“Perhaps some do so, Mr. Avery, for humans are illogical. But human emotions are allowed for in the distribution of these favors, according to the Teramin Relationship.”

“The what?”

“The Teramin Relationship. That is the mathematical expression that governs the differential between inconveniences suffered with privileges granted: dee eye sub jay taken to the —”

“Spare me the math; I’m a specialist in robotics, and even my math there is not fully developed. But I’m interested; I’ve never heard of any kind of math being applied to human relations. Can you express this Tera-whatchacallit Relationship verbally?”

“Perhaps an example would suffice, master. Consider that the privilege of having three meals a week in the apartment, even if the recipient has to fetch the meals himself from a section kitchen, if the privilege were granted for cause, will keep a large if varying number of people patient with their own inconveniences. For it demonstrates that privileges are real, can be earned without too great an effort, and have been earned by people whom one knows.”

“Interesting,” said Derec, thinking that the robots of Robot City ought to know this. “How do you know all this?”

“I aided Dr. Avery in his researches on society. I also aided him in his research into robotic history.”

“Robotic history? On Earth?”

“But of course, Mr. Avery. The positronic brain, and the positronic robot, were invented on Earth.

Susan Calvin was an Earthwoman, and Dr. Asenion an Earthman.”

Those names he knew — Dr. Asenion, especially, the man who had codified the mathematics that expressed the Three Laws in ways that made it possible to incorporate them into positronic brains. But Earth people! Still, it might explain much about Robot City. Dr. Avery was studying mass society and non-specialized robots on Earth.

“Is there a book on the mathematics of human society?” he asked, thinking it might well be good to take such a thing back to Robot City. Those poor robots had scarcely ever seen a human being, yet they were designed to serve mankind.

“I believe there are no Spacer books on the subject, Mr. Avery. However, I have several Earthly references of which you may have copies.”

“I’d like that.”

He’d like even more for Ariel to wake up and be her old self again. All during the afternoon he had had twinges of sharp fear, and kept trying not to remember that her disease was ultimately fatal.

Chapter 8

OUTSIDE!

APPARENTLY EVERYBODY IN Webster Groves had the idea of getting breakfast early; this was the worst jam yet. Ariel shifted from foot to foot and had the ungallant wish that Derec would carry her. Finally, however, they got in, made their way to their table, and sat with twin sighs.

The meal was lavish and included quite a few choices, including real meat sausages. Derec ate heavily, she saw, taking his own advice: it might be a long day. She tried to do so, but could not.

“I thought you were feeling better,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, and tried valiantly to eat more. How could she explain that her problem was as much psychological as physical? She had felt better this morning, but perhaps she was still feverish. Derec, in fact, had looked bad himself, as if he’d had another and worse nightmare. He’d said nothing.

“Just a claustrophobic attack,” she muttered to him.

Derec nodded somberly.

It was partly that. Partly it was depression. Partly, she thought, it was sensory overload. Earth was so overwhelming! Even now — ten thousand jaws masticating food and the ceaseless din and motion around her — she wanted it all to stop for a minute, just for a minute! Even in her sleep, however, it never stopped.

And her illness was undoubtedly creeping up on her. If it crossed the blood-brain barrier, they had told her, it would be fatal. Until then she could still hope — dream — of a cure. Well, the moments of inattention she had been experiencing, the fugues as she relived past memories only to lose them forever, the dreamlike hallucinatory state she often found herself in, could only mean one thing.

How could she tell Derec?

“Ready?”

Nodding, concealing her dread, Ariel rose and followed him out into yet more motion and noise.

The ways were surprisingly quiet, considering how many tons of people they carried, considering the speeds they moved at, considering the cleaving of the air over them. But the roar was always there under all consciousness, making Ariel feel more than ever that it was all a hallucination.

They retraced their route to Old Town Section, then through “Yeast Town,” which began with East St.

Louis Section. They sat, quiet, tense, through this section, but nobody paid any attention to them.

Beyond, the sections stretched again, on and on to the east.

New York lay to the east, Derec had found, and he had no desire to try to drive around the City.

“Mommer!” yelled a young girl not far from them.

Derec and Ariel glanced at her apprehensively. It was rush hour, and all of them were standing, the Earthers patiently.

“Yeahr?” inquired an older woman, presumably Mommer. She wore a dark, baggy suit. The daughter wore a tight yellow one, over a rather unfortunate figure

“‘Member when Mayor Wong and all the Notables was at Busch Stadium ‘time the Reds played?” she yelled.

“No,” said Mommer, indifferently.

“‘Member the girl that played the —” Ariel didn’t get the title; it sounded like “star-mangled spanner” —” on the bugle?”

“Yeahr, so what?”

“That’s my boyfriend Freddy’s cousin Rosine!” the daughter shouted. She looked around triumphantly.

“No kiddin’?” Mommer asked, losing her indifference.

“‘Swearta God!” cried the girl, looking around proudly, famous by contagion. “In fronta Wong an ‘all them NotahIes!”

At length, the lightwoffils overhead signaled END OF LINE. The crowd had thinned out long before, Mommer and daughter among the first to go. Only a few distinctly scruffy types were still on the ways.

The edge of the City was evidently not a fashionable place. A number of men in obvious workmen’s dress also rode with them.

The eastbound and westbound strips separated, were further divided by a building, and the strips tilted.

At heartstopping full speed the eastbound lane looped to the left, circled the building, and became the westbound lane. Ariel followed Derec down the strips just after the turn. He’d apparently been too interested to get off sooner.

“Oh, no!”

There was no crowd, and she thought that was the reason he got careless. Derec’s foot came down on the join of two strips, and in a moment he’d been jerked off his feet. He rolled on his back down onto the slower strip.

Ariel leaped after him, in her haste not bracing herself, and fell forward at full length — fortunately, on the slower strip.

Derec, grunting, had rolled half onto a yet slower strip, which slipped from under his fingers as he clawed at it. With great presence of mind he rolled over yet again fully onto that strip.

Ariel hastily picked herself up and gingerly transferred to his new strip. Derec sat grinning faintly and watched her as she walked back toward him. A couple of Earthers glanced at them incuriously and looked up at the lightworms. Apparently falling riders weren’t that uncommon. Nobody laughed.

Dusting himself off, Derec grinned more widely and led her down, then stopped in some consternation.

“Where’s your purse?”

Ariel clapped a hand to her side, gasped. She didn’t often carry a purse, but had had to on Earth. With all the identification and such she had to carry here, it was a real necessity. Now it was all gone.

“No real matter — R. David can fake up more identification for you,” Derec said.

They looked along the ways, but saw no sign of it. It must be hundreds of meters off by now, and they didn’t know on which strip. Ariel shrugged.

“There must be some central office where you can reclaim things lost on the ways,” Derec said, but dismissed it.

With a skill increased by their previous experiences, they made their way down into the bowels of the City to the freightway level. NO RIDING. PEDESTRIANS FORBIDDEN, the signs proclaimed. So they walked along beside them to the terminus, which was much like that of the passengerways above.

Small trucks with lifts in front and broad, flat beds behind brought in cannisters of freight. Somewhere not far from here big trucks were unloading these cannisters, driving in, wheeling out.

“Hey, you — you kids! Git away from there! Don’t you see the sign? Go on, back!”

AUTHORIZED PERSONS ONLY.

Muttering, Derec led Ariel up a motionless ramp, hesitated, and struck out along a corridor running east.

After half an hour of fruitlessly trying to go down to the entrance there, he retraced his steps and they went down to the lower level, and then marched toward the entrance. It was marked on the City maps as an entrance, not as an exit. There were no exits on the map.

NO ADMITTANCE TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS.

Derec opened the door cautiously, beckoned her through. Beyond it they found a garage for the handling trucks that transferred the cannisters. Men swarmed around it, but ignored them.

“We can’t go there,” Ariel said when he had led her behind the trucks to the motorway.

It was a stub motorway joining the entrance with the freightway strips. To step out into that rumbling passage would be to get run over on the spot.

Derec hesitated. “Steal a handler and drive it out there?” he asked.

“And maybe keep on going?” she asked wistfully, thinking of sunlight and air. Tomorrow and New York were too far away to bother about. Her head hurt.

“No, we couldn’t get much past the exit. These things are all beam-powered. That’s why we have to have one of those big trucks. They’re nukes.”

In the end, they picked out a small handler and figured out the controls, which were quite simple.

“I’m surprised there’s no control lock,” said Ariel. “Knowing Earthly psychology.”

“Frost, you’re right,” said Derec, worried, and looked it over. “This slot,” he said after a moment. “For an ID tag, probably a specialized one.” He looked it over and said, “I wish I had my tools.”

Wonders can be performed with such things as metal ration tags. He worked away behind the control panel while Ariel crouched behind him in the tiny cab and watched anxiously for anyone approaching.

“Ready,” he said at last. “Take the stick and drive us slowly out into the rnotorway.”

She did so, nervously. At the door, the machine slowed, a panel on its controls lighting with the words: IDENTIFICATION REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT. Derec did something, a relay clicked quietly, and the handler rolled smoothly out into the stream.

“So far, so good,” Derec said. “Nobody following.” Ariel turned to the right, guided them across the motorway to the proper lane, and they rolled slowly along toward the light. The traffic was fairly heavy, but moved slowly.

“Oh, almost —” Ariel said.

The light came from a vast open space where elephantine trucks trundled in and backed up to the loading docks. The handlers ran in and out of them, transferring their cargoes to small trucks, which took them to the freightways. Off to the right, a row of the huge trucks were disgorging golden grain into pipelines with a roar and a hiss of nitrogen.

“No good!” cried Derec. “Too many people. Pullover to the right, by those dumpsters. We’ll pretend to be inspectors or something.”

Sick, Ariel saw that he was right: There was little hope of seizing a truck unnoticed. The loading was done with smooth efficiency, though nobody seemed to move very fast. There were little knots of gossiping drivers and operators around. Men and women went around with clipboards, checking manifests. As soon as a truck was unloaded, it pulled out.

“Too bad we can’t find a clipboard or two,” Derec said.

Ariel thought that their shipsuits fit in pretty well, but wished they were cleaner. They had not thought to launder them — she had slept in hers, though the fabric didn’t show it.

They got out of the handler reluctantly, and stood looking about.

Ariel yearned for the open. They could go to the edge of the dock, drop their own height to the concrete, and walk perhaps a hundred or a hundred fifty meters, and find themselves at the opening.

“Might have expected these Earthers to block off the opening,” she observed. Light came in, but they couldn’t see out.

“They don’t even like as much of an opening as they’ve got,” said Derec. “Notice how they all stand with their backs to it?”

They did. Each little group was a semicircle facing away from the opening.

“Let’s go outside,” she said impulsively.

Derec hesitated. “It might not be easy to explain. It might not be easy to get back in.”

“Who wants to?” she said fiercely. “I just want to see sunlight one last time!”.

Derec looked at her, frightened, concealed it, and said gently, “All right, we’ll see what we can do.”

He led her across the dock space and peered up at the numbers and letters on the side of one of the mammoth trucks. It was damp, and had dripped a puddle under it. Ariel had had no idea of how big they were till then. Nodding wisely, Derec stepped to the edge, turned, and dropped off.

Ariel followed.

They strode briskly, as if they had business there, toward the front of the truck. Beyond lay the barrier.

Trucks entered obliquely between overlapping walls, so that vision could not reach out to the frightening openness outside but the trucks could enter without opening and closing doors. Ariel suspected that the way zigzagged, so great was the fear they showed of the outside.

“Hey! Hey, you two!”

A group of men were walking threateningly toward them on the docks, gesturing them back. One turned and dropped off as they watched. “Come back here!”

“Run!” said Derec.

A big wet truck erupted from the barrier even as they began to run, and they swerved. They found themselves running toward the grain trucks dropping their cargoes from their bellies.

A sign hovered in the air before them: WARNING: OXYGEN REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT!

Ariel remembered reading somewhere that grain dust could explode if liberally mixed with air. They stored it in nitrogen to prevent that. But, she observed, stricken with fear, the men working here were not wearing masks.

Derec led her on a route that avoided them — these workers looked up curiously but did not join the chase immediately — and they ran through the first dust cloud, then through the second.

“Not good enough,” he said, as they paused, panting. Ariel tried not to cough; the dust was in her throat.

“Back up on the docks,” she wheezed, and he nodded, led the way. With a grunt they were up, between trucks. The grain trucks didn’t back up to the actual docks, which were quite narrow here. The whole area was fogged with dust.

They heard a shout, “Damn thieves,” and looked back.

They had not been seen yet, but it was only a matter of time. The space beyond the dust cloud was a bedlam of whistles, shouts, and pounding feet. A big truck pulled away, its great wheels churning up more dust but making no sound.

A shout, something about laying the dust, came to them. Ariel couldn’t get her breath. We need oxygen, she thought, and wanted to cough worse than ever. Out there they were coughing, too.

Red lights flamed overhead and a deep-toned horn sounded. Ariel looked up apprehensively to see yellow signs beside the red lights: SPRINKLERS … SPRINKLERS … SPRINKLERS ….

“Back in here, quick!” Derec cried, and pulled her back behind a tangle of implements, broken handler trucks, dustbins, and the like.

Water spurted in a fine spray from the overhead, laying the dust immediately. A blue-clad man was among the truck drivers and dock workers; he carried a now-familiar club.

“A cop!” Derec said, groaning.

Ariel had glanced at him. And saw, beyond him —

“A door!”

“Where?”

“There, behind that tire.”

The tire, a huge thing in bright-blue composition, discarded from one of the trucks, marked the end of the dump they were crouched in. There was a passageway by it to a small door.

In a moment they were trying it, and before the sprinklers cut off they were in a small, dim hallway with only one out of three lights burning.

PIPELINE CONTROL SECTION: NO ADMITTANCE TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS. But the hall led past. Farther on, they saw: GRAIN & BULK SUPPLY RATIONALIZING & BALANCING.

“Administrative controls on the basic levels.” said Derec, and Ariel thought of the men and women with clipboards.

“But there’s nobody here,” she said.

“Well, cities grow and change; these may be abandoned, or only needed periodically. The important thing is they may have access above —”

They did.

At the upper level, they found that they were far from the docks, to which they knew better than to return, but were not gone from the barrier yet. The motorways used by emergency vehicles also reached at least to the entry.

Beside the motorway was a pedestrian access door; the motorway door had no controls and probably opened by radio. Once through, walking nervously on the motorway, they found to their frustration that the way avoided the entrance, swooped, and dived down to the lower levels.

“It’s for emergency vehicles,” said Derec. “Ambulances, and so on. Accidents must be common on the docks.”

Presently, they did find a half-concealed route that took them to the opening, and they looked out and down.

It was pouring with cold rain.

Even then Derec didn’t give up, but Ariel’s mind refused to record the details of the rest of the day. For several more hours he kept them prowling around the area, always trying to find a way to get at a big truck. But he could find no garage for them within the City and doubted seriously if there was one near to it.

Finally Ariel pleaded hunger and they gloomily rode the ways back to their section kitchen, able at least to sit down. Ariel felt doomed; one look at the cold gray rain falling endlessly outside had chilled her on some deep, basic level. She knew it was the last she’d ever see of the sky. For Derec, she felt sad, but was too tired to speak.

“We’ll try again tomorrow at a different entrance,” Derec said when she had eaten the little she could.

“The sun will be shining — probably, anyway — and things will be all right.”

She nodded indifferently.

Chapter 9

AMNEMONIC PLAGUE

TO DEREC’S DISMAY, Ariel did not reappear that afternoon, and the next morning she arose late and looked terrible.

R. David became alarmed. “Miss Avery, you are not well. What are your symptoms?”

“The same as usual, R. David. Don’t worry; I brought this illness with me; it’s nothing to worry about.”

She sounded tired and fretful, trying not to worry his Three Law-dominated brain.

But a robot will worry if it seems appropriate, whether told not to or not. They weren’t so different from humans in that respect, thought Derec, himself alarmed.

“I hope you are indeed not seriously ill, Miss Avery, but please tell me your symptoms so that I may judge. As you know, First Law compels me to help you.”

She grimaced. “Okay. I’m frequently feverish — is there any water in the place?”

“No,” Derec said. “I’ll bring you — frost! is there anything to carry water in?”

“No,” said R. David.

Mentally, Derec cursed all Earthers, individually and collectively, and the Teramin Relationship, too.

“Anyway, I’m often feverish, and tired and lethargic and listless. And — and —” she glanced at Derec. “I have mental troubles. Confusion — I forget where I am, lose track of what’s going on. A lot of the time I sit and don’t speak because I can’t follow the conversation. I’ve been reliving the past a lot.”

Suddenly she cried out passionately, “Nothing seems real! I feel like I’m in a hallucination.”

It was more serious than Derec had thought. Hesitantly, he asked, “Do you feel like going to the section kitchen?”

“No. I don’t feel like doing anything, except drinking a liter of water and going back to bed.”

“You must go to section hospital at once,” said R. David decisively, stepping forward.

Derec could have groaned. “What kind of medical care can you expect in an Earthly hospital?” he asked. “We’ve got to get you back to the Spacer worlds —”

“There’s no cure for me there,” she said quietly. Damn. That was true. Derec hesitated, torn, and said,

“Well, back to Robot City, then. Maybe the Human Medical Team has a cure.”

“My medical knowledge is limited, primarily to the effects of Earthly ills on Spacers. But that knowledge makes me doubt that Miss Avery will — will live long enough for a space journey,” said R. David, the catch in his voice obvious. “She is obviously in, or approaching, the — crisis of her disease.”

Derec hesitated. That was too obviously true.

Ariel smiled sadly and said, “I fear he is right, Derec. I — I’m losing my memory — my mind. And it’s getting worse. I couldn’t remember my way back here the other night —”

Abruptly, she was weeping.

Oh. frost. Derec thought helplessly.

R. David gave them an argument; he wanted to accompany them — to carry Ariel, in fact.

“No!” said Derec. “I may be ignorant of many things about Earth, but I know well enough what Earthers do to any robots they catch on the ways. And if we tried to do anything about it, our first words would give us away as Spacers. They’d be allover us. I’ve been chased once by yeast farmers. Frost! I don’t want to have every Earther we meet at our throats.”

It took the firmest commands reinforcing Dr. Avery’s to keep R. David in the apartment. Only when Ariel perked up, as she usually did at the prospect of change, was the robot’s First Law conditioning allayed. Ariel was even almost gay as she left, rendering a zany marching song: “One-two-three! Here we go! Bedlam, Bedlam, ho ho ho! Drrringding ding, brrrumbum bum, brrrreebeedeebee Dabbabba-dumbum-bum!”

But once the door had closed she looked haggard.

“Water,” she said, smiling wanly at Derec’s concerned look.

After she had drunk a liter or so, she gasped for breath a few minutes, but was game to go on. The route to the section hospital was longer than the one to the kitchen, and she drooped visibly. Worse, it was morning now and the express was jammed. They had to stand; Threes weren’t allowed to sit during rush hour.

It seemed that the nightmare of rushing ways and whistling wind and unconcerned, self-centered Earthers would go on forever. Derec had to watch Ariel — he feared she would collapse — and also watch the signs overhead, fearing that he would forget or confuse the instructions he had carefully impressed on his memory.

But even the longest journey ends at last, and the exit was clearly marked SECTION HOSPITAL, with the same red cross on white that Spacers used.

The anteroom smelled of antiseptic and was mobbed with men, women, and children. Children. thought Derec vaguely — never seen so many children in my life as on Earth. Though his memories still were lost, he was sure, by his astonished reaction, that he had not. Of course, they had to keep replacing this huge population.

Fumbling, he inserted Ariel’s newly forged ID tags into the computer, whose panel lit with CHECK-UP, ILLNESS, EMERGENCY? Ariel was leaning against him, gasping and pale after the ordeal, and even the usually unconcerned Earthers were looking at them in some alarm. Emergency, he decided, panicky, and punched it.

Instantly a red star appeared in the panel, blinking; apparently alarms rang elsewhere, for a strong-looking woman appeared, started to remonstrate with him for mistaking an ILLNESS for an EMERGENCY — young husbands! But Ariel turned a ghastly, apologetic smile on her, and the woman’s mouth closed with a snap.

“Here!”

She half carried Ariel past three rooms full of still more waiting Earthers, to a room with a wheeled, knee-high cart in it.

“Lie down, baby!”

The gurney stood up, she strapped Ariel on, and an older woman entered. “Dr. Li —”

“Mmm. I see.” She began to check over Ariel, not bothering with instruments — she took Ariel’s temperature by placing her hand on Ariel’s head!

A harassed-looking man entered. He wore a curious ornament in the form of a frame holding glass panes in front of his eyes. Derec had noticed some of these on the ways. It gave his face a dashing, futuristic look. “What is it, Dr. Li?”

“Don’t know yet, Dr. Powell. Elevated temperature, febrile heartbeat, hectic flush, exhaustion. I want to measure everything first, of course.” She reached to the bottom of the gurney and started pulling out instruments, to Derec’s considerable relief. Ariel had closed her eyes, and seemed to be asleep.

The doctors bent over her, shaking their heads and measuring everything about Ariel. Tense as he was, Derec looked about for a place to sit, content for the moment to leave it in their hands. Abruptly the nurse said. “How long has it been since she’s eaten?”

The doctors ignored this till Derec said, “Uh — yesterday afternoon. Not long after noon.”

Dr. Li grunted, and Dr. Powell said, “Inanition!”

“Young as she is, that shouldn’t have brought on this collapse. Feel that arm. She’s practically starving.”

The three of them looked at each other, plainly shocked.

“Why hasn’t she been eating, young man?” Dr. Li demanded.

“She hasn’t felt like it, Ma’am,” said Derec, and all three of them frowned at his accent.

“Settler prospects, eh?” Powell removed his frame and wiped the panes with a tissue. “You’ll not have much need of Spacer talk on a frontier planet. Better to learn some good medieval jargon: brush, creek, log cabin. Not to mention ‘sweat.’ What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know, Doctor. She said,” he gulped, “it could be fatal if it crossed the blood-brain barrier. It’s — it’s affecting her mind. She’s had th-this low-level fever and lethargy, with occasional muscular aches and pains, for a long time.”

“Vomiting? Night sweats?” asked Dr. Li tensely.

“I don’t know. She — she didn’t want to worry me.”

They looked outraged; he should know.

“There’s a number of things it could be,” said Dr. Li unhappily. “I have a few ideas, though —”

“So do I!” said Dr. Powell sourly. “Look here, young fella, I don’t doubt that accent caused you many a pain, but you’d better doff it in here. It antagonizes too many people.”

“He can’t,” said Dr. Li expressionlessly. “He’s a real Spacer.”

Dr. Powell and the nurse goggled. “Impossible! A Spacer running around on Earth? He’d drop down dead of —”

The doctors whirled to look at Ariel. Frowning, the nurse stepped out. “It could be any of a hundred common and harmless diseases!” said Dr. Powell.

“Yes! Harmless to Earth people!”

“How about yourself, young man? Do you feel all right?”

Derec nodded. “Never better.”

“Why, then?” Dr. Powell exploded. “You should be sick a dozen times over!”

“I’ve been given a prophylactic regimen — so has Ariel,” said Derec, hoping they wouldn’t ask too many questions. “I don’t know too much about it.”

“Apparently it didn’t take in her case,” said Dr. Li somberly. “You let us know the moment you feel unwell, young man.”

“They can’t be Spacers,” said the nurse grimly, holding Ariel’s ID tag in her hand. “How could they be, and travel around Earth? Without ration cards, ID, and so on? This is perfectly ordinary Earth ID, City of St. Louis —”

They looked at him, frowning harder, and Derec felt himself hot … not to mention sweating. “That’s all arranged, sir. It’s part of a trade agreement … we’re doing sociological research …”

“So young?”

“Who notices a kid?” he countered swiftly, feeling the hair clammy against his forehead. “Young eyes see more sharply … and so on.”

“Hummph! No child of mine would take such a risk —”

“Maybe we’d better query the Terries,” said Dr. Li reluctantly.

They all looked concerned.

Derec questioned them with his eyes, but finally had to break down and ask. “The who?”

“The Terries-Terrestrial Bureau of Investigation,” said Dr. Powell. He polished his panes unhappily.

“They cause more trouble than —” muttered the nurse.

“Still, best to take no chances. If the girl is in a bad way, it could cause trouble with the Spacers — there’s enough bad blood between us already.”

Derec thought swiftly, appalled. The “Terries” would find no record of them, would query whatever Spacer representation there might be on Earth, find no record there, and the reactor would flash over.

But he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Look —”

Ariel moaned and turned partly on her side; only the straps kept her from falling. If she’d been listening, she couldn’t have timed it better. All three Earthers leaped to her, and Derec pocketed the ID tag the nurse had put down.

He thought quickly. The doctors were concerned and totally focused on Ariel. Derec looked around. As he recalled R. David’s work, the ID tag merely gave name and ID workup. Not address. Medical care was on an as-needed basis, not rationed, so nobody cared about place of residence, and in fact they hadn’t been required to enter that. (Or was that because Ariel’s tag gave her rating as Transient? He needed to know a lot more about Earth.)

In any case, he thought, the only thing they knew about Ariel was what the computer recorded from the ID tag.

Leaving them working over her, he slipped out and strolled around, speaking to no one, trying to look like a worried, expectant father pretending to be nonchalant. A couple of people looked at him sympathetically, but most didn’t seem to notice him at all, for which he was grateful.

There it was. An office. He slipped in, looked at the terminal. It was probably dedicated to a single function, but he could try. He had watched R. David coding ID tags of a dozen kinds, and had a good grasp of what was implied. And frankly, these computers were simple after programming positronic brains and restructuring the programming of the central computer of Robot City. It took him a mere half hour to get through the programming, retrieve the record on Ariel, and erase it.

Now let’s hope there isn’t a backup memory somewhere, he thought gloomily.

They caught up with him in the interior waiting room, standing aimlessly about and unobtrusively slipping toward the outer waiting room, where he supposed he belonged.

“There you are,” said the nurse. For the first time, he noted that her jacket had a name label imprinted Korolenko, J. “Why didn’t you wait in the Friends’ Lounge?”

He didn’t bother to tell her they hadn’t shown him to it. “Had to go to the Personal,” he said, not knowing if Earthers could mention the Personal so openly.

She got ideas, frowned, put something warm from her pocket against his head. Apparently his temperature was all right. “Very well. But come in here. The doctors will need to speak to you.”

Within ten minutes Dr. Li entered the room briskly, sat down, exhaled heavily. “She had us worried, but it was mostly exhaustion of the body’s resources. Starvation, to put it crudely. She must have been going on nerves and caffeine for weeks.”

“She hasn’t been eating well,” Derec admitted. He’d been blind not to see how little she’d been eating.

“What does she have?”

“We’ll know for sure in a day; we’ve done a culture. But our best guess is amnemonic plague.”

“Ay … nuhmonic …?”

“From medieval mnemonic, meaning memory. Amnemonic means no memory. It’s a mutation of an old influenza virus, first reported on one of the Settler worlds — sometimes called Burundi’s Fever, after the discoverer.” She looked at him sharply, but clearly that name meant no more to Derec than the first.

“Will she — get better?”

Dr Li sighed. “When Burundi crosses the blood-brain barrier, it isn’t good. We’re giving her support — nourishment and so on — and antibiotics that eventually will cure the disease. Our anti-virals are fairly effective, except where the virus has crossed the blood-brain barrier. Antibodies will help a little, and we’re administering them. We’ll be able to stop the infection in all but her brain within a day or two.”

Derec had the illusion that his chest had turned into a block of wood. His heart pushed once, hard, against its unyielding surroundings, and gave up. He felt it stop moving. “Her … brain?”

Dr. Li sighed and looked four hundred years old. “There’s hope. It’s by no means over. I do wish we’d gotten at her sooner …. Well, try not to feel guilty; and I’m sorry if I made you feel worse. You couldn’t have known. All kids are heedless, think they’ll live forever ….” She brooded on her capable hands for a moment. “Then you think she’ll live?”

“Let’s say, I have a good hope of it. Saul — Dr. Morovan — is a specialist on viruses and has treated amnemonic plague three times, twice successfully — and the third time was a patient whose disease had advanced much farther than your wife’s.”

Derec suspected that the symptoms of the other two had been much less advanced than Ariel’s, but said nothing. It was something, he acknowledged, that they knew the disease, had a cure for it, and had hope for her. Of course, he thought, we were fools — chauvinistic fools — to assume that the Spacer worlds were the only ones that knew anything about medicine. Who but Earth, incubator of virtually every disease known to mankind, would know more about medicine? Among the Spacer worlds, he supposed, amnemonic plague was invariably fatal when it crossed the blood-brain barrier ….

Derec felt his knees shaking and was glad he wasn’t standing.

“What?” He’d missed some of what she’d been saying.

“Need a sample,” she repeated. “We can’t give you the vaccine if you have the disease, at least in its later stages.”

The Key to Perihelion affected the stomach like this: a sudden drop as one went from gravity to free-fall instantly. Derec nearly threw up. Gulping, he said, “Y-yes, Ma’am,” and held out his arm.

Disease!

The possibility had always been there, associating with Ariel. But it was obvious that what she had wasn’t easily contagious. She had only mentioned once, more or less directly, how she had contracted her illness, as a warning to him. But that was the only time they had come close to more than accidental physical contact. Now that he thought about it, she had kept her distance, even when she had clearly wanted and needed to be hugged. His Spacer’s horror of disease had not been as greatly allayed as he had thought, he realized, shaky. The prophylactic treatment R. David had given them had reassured him, Ariel’s attitude and his worry over her had reassured him, and the heedlessness of youth ….

His eyes must have mirrored some of his horror, for Dr. Li looked at him sharply and said, “Don’t worry! You’re obviously in a very early stage, if you have it at all. And we’re going to give you a thorough going-over, to make sure you aren’t coming down with something else.”

They did that for the next half hour. The Human Medical Team would have been faster. but no less thorough. he thought.

“Good, you’re totally free of disease, so far as we can tell,” said Dr. Powell. “Fortunately, your intestinal microorganisms are not markedly different from the Terrestrial strains, and there’s as yet nothing else to worry about. Dr. Li, the vaccine ….”

“Incidentally, we detected antitoxins to Burundi’s in your system,” said Dr. Li. “You may have had a mild case of the fever earlier; it may even still be latent in your system. However, the vaccine will immunize you totally.”

“Uh —” said Derec, as a thought took him. “Have I been a carrier all this time?”

Uneasily, he visualized Ariel and himself spreading disease all over Rockliffe Station, where they had crash landed after escaping the pirate Aranimas. Any human who subsequently entered the station might contract the disease

“Perhaps, but don’t worry about it. Amnemonic plague is misnamed; it isn’t a true plague. It’s not infectious at all, and only minimally contagious. You have to exchange actual body fluids; it’s commonly passed in sexual intercourse, or in contaminated blood supplies. And occasionally by poorly sterilized hypodermics, out on the Settler worlds where they have to reuse their needles.”

That was a relief. But it left a puzzle: how had Derec been exposed to the disease, if not from breathing the air around Ariel? Had he had it before he’d met her on Aranimas’s ship?

He must have. How else had he lost his memory? But how, then, had he survived? If amnemonic plague only affected the memory after passing the blood-brain barrier, and among Spacers was invariably fatal when it did

Again he had missed something.

“I said, your wife is almost certainly going to live. Here, catch him!”

Derec didn’t know who did what; his vision had momentarily blanked. When the light came back, he was sitting and there was a tingle in his arm; a stimulant spray. he thought vaguely. They were proffering a glass of orange juice to him — perfectly normal orange juice, just like the oranges of Aurora. He wondered how much it had cost to ship it here, then realized that they must have bought orange tree seedlings sometime in the past, and raised their own.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

They stood around and watched him intently.

“Is there something?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Li reluctantly. “I hope you’re up to this. It … may upset you.”

Derec took another swallow of the juice, marveling again that it could be so exactly like Auroran juice.

“I’m braced,” he said. “Go ahead.”

“Amnemonic plague is well-named, though it’s no plague. Your wife is losing her memory, and at a progressive rate. By the time we’ve cured her, there won’t be much of it left.”

Chapter 10

THE KEY TO MEMORY

DEREC LAY ON the hard, narrow bed and wondered what Wolruf and Mandelbrot were doing. Probably still sitting out around Kappa Whale in the Star Seeker, waiting, waiting. Of course, they could not readily get space charts without a human to front for them, though Mandelbrot might try. It would not be unusual for a robot to open communications. But if the other ship insisted on speaking to the owner-captain — Star Seekers were small ships; he couldn’t very well be far from the controls. For that matter, Derec was uncertain how well Mandelbrot could lie in such circumstances.

Well, there was nothing he could do for them. He couldn’t leave Earth, and if he could, he couldn’t leave Ariel here. And Ariel was now raving in delirium in the section hospital in Webster Groves Sector, City of Saint Louis. A long way, he gathered, from the nearest spaceport, near New York.

Derec wished for a drink. He wished for a light snack, cookies at least, and fresh hot coffee, even synthetic coffee. In the next room was a robot, ready to spring into action at his slightest word — almost.

It was an Earthly robot, in an Earthly City. Derec could send R. David out, but there was no assurance it would return — and it would not be with food, for Derec didn’t rate meals in his own apartment. Damn Dr. Avery for not arranging for higher ratings.

But that would have been more conspicuous, he supposed.

Light from the door shone across the bed. “Time to arise, Mr. Avery,” said R. David.

“Yes, thank you, R. David.”

Derec groaned silently and sat up to sit for a moment with his elbows on his knees, chin in hands. In the short life that he could remember, it had been one crisis after another. All I want, he decided, is peace and quiet, a little establishment on some mountain brook in the boondocks of Aurora or Nexon, maybe, with just a couple of robots and a landing field only big enough for my own machine and one other.

Maybe the Solarians had the right idea; they never saw anybody, and lived totally surrounded by robots.

No, he had decided. That wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

Earth turned inside out, he thought vaguely. No better than —

“Mr. Avery, are you well?”

“Yes, R. David. Merely depressed. I worry about Ariel.”

That, the robot could well understand.

“Yes, Mr. Avery. I — also worry about her. But the doctors report her condition good, do they not?”

“Yes, they did last night, R. David. What she’s like today —” He left it, somber, dressed carelessly, and tucked some equipment into the little bath satchel he had bought the day before.

Admonishing R. David rather hollowly not to worry, he set off for the Personal, returned to drop off the satchel when he had showered and washed his extra clothing, and departed for the section kitchen. This part of the trip was so routine now that he neither saw nor was seen by the policemen in the corridors and junctions; he no longer stood out like a stranger.

Breakfast was, as usual, good, but to him, tasteless. Listlessly, Derec ate it, not even interested in a fact he had finally deduced: it was neither synthetic nor natural, but both. It was made of living things and was therefore natural, but was made by an artificial process and was therefore synthetic. The basis of three-quarters of it was yeast.

He suspected that there might be a steady, if small, market for Earthly food yeasts in the Spacer worlds, if Spacers could overcome their sense of superiority long enough to try it. Granted, Spacer high cuisine had no equal on Earth that Derec had tasted, but Spacer ships were usually furnished with synthesizers.

So much/or Spacer cuisine, he thought.

The hospital was a familiar place to him now. Derec did not trouble with the waiting rooms, but went to the Friends’ Lounge and queried Ariel’s condition on the monitor. There had been a problem with that when they had discovered that she wasn’t in the system. Derec had professed ignorance of the ID tag, and it was assumed — he hoped — that it had been lost when they all crowded around to help Ariel during her collapse.

Naturally he didn’t remember her number, and in their honest ignorance she and he had left other ID

forms behind. Derec had promised to supply them with it next day, but so far had “forgotten” to do so the one time they remembered to ask him for it. They had had to input her with a dummy ID.

Ariel was in a room with two robots. Here, in Intensive Care, people were either unconscious or so debilitated by their illnesses that they didn’t care that it was robots who waited on them.

She was not raving today. At first Derec thought she was asleep, she lay so quietly. But then she moved, and a robot sprang forward to smooth the pillow behind her. She looked at it vacantly, closed her eyes.

A faint sound behind him was Dr. Li. The woman shook her head sadly.

“How is she, doctor?” Derec asked.

“As far as the disease goes, the worst is over. She will live. But what you’re seeing now might be worse.

She is gradually losing her memories.”

Derec had had some of this explained to him. “I suppose she’s half in a hallucinatory state now.”

“Yes, or something like an intense daydream. Perhaps a brown study would be a better analogy — one of those almost hypnotic states of concentration in which you don’t see what’s in front of you.”

Derec had a vague flash memory of someone waving a hand in front of his nose, and nodded.

Ariel was reliving her life as drowning people are popularly supposed to do. It wouldn’t take me long, he mused; J suppose I might have time for it. But Ariel....

“Could I visit her?”

Dr. Li frowned, looking sadder. “You could, but after today it will get worse.” She hesitated. “There’s always a shock for the loved ones, when the patient doesn’t recognize them. That will happen, you know.”

Derec hadn’t thought of that, and the mere thought shocked him. “Then — can I visit her today?”

“I’ll ask.”

Ariel looked at him blankly, but it wasn’t a lack of recognition. It was more a lack of energy. “Oh, Derec. How are you?”

What do you say to someone who may be alive tomorrow, but won’t remember you? If Derec’s memories had been a hundred years long rather than a couple of months, he still wouldn’t have had anything to guide him.

“Well enough,” he said awkwardly. He drew near to the bed, touched it. She looked at him without much emotion.

“Are you going to help them restore my memory?”

“Of course. I’ll have to. And I hope you’ve been talking —?” He indicated the robots with a tilt of his head.

“A little,” she said reluctantly. “I’m so tired all the time. And they keep me so full of drugs I don’t have the spirit. Besides, it doesn’t matter. It won’t help. It w-won’t really be me. Derec, it’s like dying. It’s just like dying. I won’t see you again — I won’t see anyone again — it’s all fading —”

One of the robots sprang to the head of the bed and did something, and Ariel’s eyes closed. When they opened after a moment the horror had largely passed. Derec thought it was still there, though, masked by the drug.

“That isn’t so, Ariel,” he said insistently. “Your memories are still there, in your brain. They merely need to be unlocked. We’ll —”

She was shaking her head. “No, it’s all going. I’m dying, Derec. Whoever takes my place will be someone different.”

Abruptly he said, “Am I different than — the man I was?”

“Of course. And yet, you’re him.” She closed her eyes and tears trembled on her eyelids. The robot got busy at the headboard again.

“Derec, I want you to know that I’ve always loved you. Even when I was most angry, even when I was most frightened. I never blamed you. For weeks I’ve watched, hoping you would never develop the final form of the disease. I guess you did, or you wouldn’t have lost your memory. Whoever cured you … didn’t have the … technology to restore … your memory …”

She drifted off into sleep, and after a moment Derec choked down his impulse to cry out, to demand that they awaken her. Suddenly his lost memory seemed less important, what she knew seemed less important, than what she thought of him.

“Farewell, Ariel,” he managed to say huskily, and stumbled out into the Friends’ Lounge, where he sat and wept for a time, quietly. He wondered vaguely if, in all his unremembered life, he had felt this sharp, poignant pain, and doubted it. Yet, he had known her in another life, and it had not been wholly a happy relationship.

He’d had amnemonic plague; the emptiness in his head was proof enough for him. Had he gotten it from her — or given it to her?

Presently he took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh that came from the bottom of his belly, and wiped his face on a tissue from the dispenser. Robots were probably watching him; within minutes Dr. Li and a weary-looking Dr. Powell entered the room.

They sat and looked him over while he braced himself. Fortunately, they, like he, had more important things on their minds than Ariel’s ID tags.

“I understand that Korolenko has told you a little about memory restoration,” Dr. Powell said.

Derec remembered an exchange from an earlier visit. He nodded. “Memory traces are not memory. Yes.”

“Quite so. A memory trace is the synapse — the nerve connection in the brain — that leads to the memory, which is stored in chemical form. It is these synapses that are being erased by the neurotoxin of the plague. The actual memories remain untouched.”

They looked at him. If only you knew how much I know about this; he thought. “Right,” he said. “But since their addresses are unknown — to put it in computer jargon — the memories are as lost as if the records had been wiped.”

“Almost,” said Dr. Li. “There are ghost memories flitting about the patient’s mind, and many little things will jolt a few of the memories loose.”

“Smell is one of the subtlest and most powerful memory keys,” said Dr. Powell, nodding.

Derec knew. “Yes.”

“So. In what we loosely call a memory restoration, we merely supply new synapses as nearly identical to the old as possible.”

“And in the functioning of the new memory traces,” Derec said, parroting what he’d been told, “the patient reactivates the old chemical memories.”

“Quite so. The more accurate and detailed the new memory traces are, the more complete not only the restoration of the memories, but the restoration of the patient’s original personality. I hope you can see that.”

It was an angle that had never occurred to him. He supposed he had the same basic personality as ever: pragmatic, problem-solving, not given to abstract thought, not artistic or poetic. An equable temperament. The engineering mind.

Now that he thought of it, though, perhaps his personality was different. He had known Ariel in his former life. He must have had strong feelings about her. He did again. Not still — again. For if he had not met her since his memory loss, and had not continuously been practically in solitary confinement with her, he might well not have felt that way about her again.

His parents, for instance. He no longer felt about them as he once must have done. His friends — all those parts of his personality were gone. If he acquired new friends, his emotional responses would be much the same, of course. His personality had not changed in any basic way, or so he supposed. He did not seem very strange to Ariel. Still, he was a new and different person from the old Derec, whatever his name had been.

Perhaps Ariel was right; perhaps it was a form of death.

Yet —” If the memory traces are close enough to the original —?”

“Ideally, it would be like copying a program into a blank positronic brain,” said Dr. Li. “The second robot would, for all practical purposes, become the old one.”

“We always explain what’s been done to them,” Derec said absently.

“Yes. But if the original was destroyed —” Derec frowned. “— the new one would, for all intents and purposes, be the same one in a new body.”

True, it was not unlike shifting a positronic brain to a new robotic body. Derec had an uneasy flash. On Robot City there had been an accidental death, of a boy called David, which Derec and Ariel had investigated for the robots. This David had looked just like him He usually shrugged that fact off, but now he was jolted. Maybe the other was the duplicate — or was it himself?

“In a human, of course, it is not quite so simple,” said Dr. Powell, not noticing his jolted expression. “We could activate a significant fraction of the locked memories without reactivating the old personality. It’s a matter of knowing which memories are important to the patient.”

“How close can we come?” Derec asked.

“It depends on how much we know. The robots are, of course, recording and analyzing everything she says, and there’s a tendency to relive the most important memories first and most often, till they’re gone. So we’re developing a good sketch, too crude to be called a diagram.”

Derec nodded. “That’s where you need my help.”

“Quite so. You know her better than we, or the robots, can hope to.”

“Not well enough, I’m afraid,” said Derec steadily, wishing for some of that tranquilizer they were keeping Ariel on. “I’ve only known her for a few weeks.”

And already married, their expressions said. Spacer morals. Derec didn’t enlighten them. “I can go into a lot of detail about our time together, but before that … she was a very private person.”

Again, their expressions spoke for them: Spacers lived alone, on the surface, surrounded only by robots, and had few human contacts.... Not true, but try to explain. Besides, he’d had his own quota of chauvinistic nonsense about Earthers to lose.

“Whatever you can do, you must do,” Dr. Li said heavily.

“Uh … well … I can’t,” Derec said lamely.

If he mentioned his amnesia, they’d be allover him. The question of their identities would arise in a way he couldn’t duck. The Terries would certainly be called in, and the Spacer embassy at the port would be queried. The whole house of cards would come down — next thing you knew, they’d have learned about Dr. Avery — and Robot City.

That secret must be kept at all costs.

“Why not?” Dr. Powell barked.

“It’s … a matter of privacy, sir.”

“Oh.” Greatly mollified. Spacers! “Well, there’s a lot more than you could do sitting here … why don’t you take all the material we have with you, go home, and do your dictating there?”

Derec had been so used to having First Law-driven robots intruding on his life that he was startled by this easy acquiescence. A robot wouldn’t let anything be put into Ariel’s head without checking it over first

“And the memory traces? Will they be kept private?”

The doctors looked at each other. “Well, they have to be coded,” Dr. Li began.

Dr. Powell said, “They use a technique modified from one used to implant synapses in positronic brains. Of course that can’t be used on human brains, but it’s based on the same idea, as it were. I don’t know the full details, myself —”

“But it’s a matter of coding,” said Dr. Li. “We’re having a specialist come in from the Mayo. If he could teach you — perhaps you could code the more private portions …?”

It took several conversations and a conference before it was decided to let Derec attempt coding memory traces for Ariel. His education stood him in good stead; he had the necessary background to do the work. Spacer! said the expressions again, this time with approval. Spacer education in robotics and computers in general was notoriously the best.

The work called for the use of a good computer, and with some trepidation he revealed the existence of R. David during the conference.

“Of course,” Dr. Powell said. “A Spacer would naturally have a robot in his apartment.”

They seemed to take it quite for granted, and to be a little amused by it.

“Scots sleeping with bagpipes,” someone muttered at the back of the room, a reference that sounded so funny that Derec meant to look it up, but forgot. He didn’t think of it again till weeks later … far too late to ask.

So, once he was instructed in the technique — not simple, but not too hard to learn — of coding memories as synapses, Derec sat up, day and night, dictating his memories of his life with Ariel.

“Any time she remembers something, playing the memory trace, there is a certain strong chance that she will unlock the actual memory of the event, or of part of it,” the expert told Derec. “Each such unlocked memory will be retained, and will strengthen the memory trace leading to it, and to the fields about it. All this was worked out at the Lahey within the past ten years.”

She was a sharp-nosed, unpretty woman, tiny and quite dark of skin. The breeds of mankind, or races as they were called on Earth, remained far more distinct than on the Spacer worlds. Darla, her name was, and she knew her stuff. She seemed to be hundreds of years old; he supposed vaguely that she might be sixty or seventy.

“Eventually, the personality that is recovered will be indistinguishable from the patient’s original personality, both to the patient and to the patient’s loved ones. But that depends on the accuracy of the memories, the accuracy of the coding, and the completeness of the memories.”

The coding accuracy he could create by care and sheer hard work. The completeness of the memories he had little control over. At least, he thought comfortingly, the last weeks of her life must be very important, and those he could cover well.

But the accuracy of the memories? How did he know what was important to her and what was not? Her moods had always been a mystery to him.

He could but do his best, and try not to worry too much.

Derec took to visiting the hospital every other day, and sometimes every third day. Whether he went or not, he always stopped at the public combooth mornings and evenings, on the way to and from the kitchen, to call and ask about her. The news usually was that she was doing well but was in no condition to talk.

Derec knew it. His work went rapidly enough, but there was a lot of it. He slogged through it grimly. If not for the necessity of going out to call the hospital, he might not have gone near the kitchen until R.

David was forced to take action to prevent collapse.

He had one slight consolation. His own memories must also be locked away, unharmed by the plague. If only he could find someone who knew him as well as Ariel did before she lost her memories, someone he could persuade to come to Earth and dictate his memories … not likely, knowing Spacers. But there was that thread of hope that he might recover his memories … might recover himself.

Nights were bad. He dreamed nightmares of Ariel not responding to the treatment and being as blank as he had been upon awakening. It was terribly important that she not lose her memories of him … and in the dream it was always his fault. His coding failed, or she was swept away in the flash floods through the drains of Robot City, or ….

Robot City! It, too, haunted his dreams, and these dreams were even darker and more frightening than the nightmares about Ariel. Those he could understand; they sprang from a quite natural anxiety.

But the Robot City dreams were different … they didn’t even seem like dreams. They seemed frighteningly real. In the mornings Derec’s hands shook, and he hoped the doctors never started asking serious questions. They’d know for sure he was crazy.

He was dreaming that Robot City was inside him. He dreamed of gleaming buildings rising on the lobes of his liver, great dark-red plains stacked above each other, or on his ribs, or inside his lungs, the buildings expanding and contracting as he breathed. Then the dreams seemed to become much clearer, and he “knew,” in the crazy dream way, that Robot City was in his bloodstream.

Enclosed buildings, like space cities on lonely rocks, he thought. Yeah! But jeering didn’t drive off the frightened, helpless feeling, the feeling of being invaded and used.

1 suppose that’s the source of this dream, he thought, trying to comfort himself. I’ve been moved and manipulated from the beginning.

The next time he walked into the Friends’ Lounge, Korolenko brought him Dr. Li and an unsmiling.

athletic young man with the look of eagles in his eyes.

“Yes?” Derec said to the stranger.

“This is Special Agent Donovan,” said Dr. Li, frowning slightly. “Of the Terrestrial Bureau of Investigation.”

Chapter 11

QUESTIONS!

THE TERRY FOLLOWED him and Dr. Li to a more private conference room, where Dr. Li left them.

The special agent looked Derec over intently, but not in a hostile manner. Derec braced himself, shaky.

Above all, he mustn’t mention Robot City. Neither could he mention Aranimas and Wolruf. They’d consider him crazy.

Any break in his story would mean endless questioning, queries to the Spacer worlds, questions about Dr. Avery, the discovery of Wolruf in orbit about Kappa Whale, perhaps the discovery of all that Dr.

Avery was doing … not all of that bad, but it would take time! Worst of all, the investigation would ultimately uncover Robot City … and that secret had to be kept at all costs.

Derec and Ariel had to get back there.

“I must warn you that this conversation is being recorded, and that anything you say may be used against you. Further, you have the right to remain silent, if you feel that your interests might be threatened by answering. On the other hand, we have as yet no positive evidence that any crime has been committed. The Bureau has been called in primarily because you are allegedly a Spacer … diplomatic reasons, that is.”

Derec nodded, throat tight.

“Who are you?” the agent asked abruptly.

“Derec.”

“And your last name?”

Derec debated, decided not, and said, “I sit mute.”

“That is your right. Do you wish a witness that you have not been coerced?”

“Waived, but, uh,” Derec could not quite remember the Spacer legal formula — so far it had seemed close to Earth’s. If anything, Earth was more fanatical about preserving the individual’s rights than the Spacer worlds were. “Oh, I wish to retain the right to ask for a witness later.”

“Waived right to a witness pro tern,” said Donovan, nodding shortly once, in faint approval. “I assume then that you do not mean to sit mute to all questions. Therefore, I ask you: have you ever had Burundi’s disease, popularly known as amnemonic plague?”

“I don’t remember.” Derec smiled faintly at the other and received a faint smile back.

“Do you remember your last visit to Towner Laney Memorial Hospital, two days ago, and the blood sample that was taken at that time?”

Derec remembered the visit, but not the blood sample. Even when Donovan pointed at the red scab inside his left elbow, he still didn’t remember the sample being taken.

Concerned, Donovan said, “Do you assert that it was taken without your knowledge; particularly, do you accuse anyone of using anesthesia on you against your will?”

“Is that a crime on Earth? No, I make no such — uh — assertion. I just don’t remember … I was probably in a fog. I usually am, these days.”

The agent looked at him. “Isn’t unauthorized anesthesia a crime on the Spacer worlds?”

“It might be, but I doubt it. I doubt that it happens often enough for anyone to pass a law against it. The robots would prevent it, usually.”

“Hmmm,” said the Terry, possibly reflecting that a robot-saturated society might have its points. “In any case, I now inform you that a blood sample was taken from you on that occasion and carefully studied.

The conclusion of the doctors here, and at the Mayo, and in Bethesda, is that though you have antitoxins to Burundi’s, you have never had the disease in its severe form.”

Derec stared at him.

Donovan continued, “Yet, something you said to the Spacer plague victim, and which she answered, indicates that your memory was lost in the characteristic fashion of this disease. Can you elucidate that, or do you wish to sit mute?”

The robots. Thought Derec. Furniture to a Spacer, he had paid no attention. And usually a robot’s discretion was proverbial, so much so that their testimony was rarely heard even in Spacer courts. But these had been instructed to record and play back everything that Ariel said. Derec couldn’t remember what she and he had said, but they’d given the game away more than an Earthly week ago.

Had they mentioned Robot City?

“Why do you ask?” he asked warily.

“Do you suffer from amnesia?” the other countered.

Derec ought to sit mute. He considered that seriously, wondered if perhaps it was already too late, then thought of a possible way around.

“Why do you ask? Surely it’s no crime to suffer amnesia. Nor would I expect the Terries to be called in even if a Spacer suffered. The condition isn’t contagious, you know.”

“There are laws against harboring certain diseases, nevertheless,” said Donovan automatically, but he waved that aside. “Public policy. No, the question here is more serious. Essentially, two things about you alarm us. One is that you do not remember your past. The other is that you are not on Earth.”

Derec gaped at him, almost started to ask exactly where St. Louis was.

“Officially, I mean,” said Donovan, frowning in irritation. “We’ve done a thorough computer check, and we find no sign of you before you appeared here a couple of weeks ago, eating at the section kitchen, big as life and twice as natural. This was brought to our attention by the hospital’s accountants and computer operators, who have never discovered how your partner’s records vanished out of the hospital’s computer.”

The Terry looked at him again. “Normally I wouldn’t reveal so much, but there’s a good deal of alarm in Washington. It’s considered that you are not the source of the mystery, and may in fact be unaware of it.

Who sent you to Earth, and why?”

Derec’s mind was spinning like a wheel, but he managed to say, “I suppose you figure the ones who sent us have done this computer trick. How could they possibly have?”

Donovan shrugged angrily. “Any number of ways, I suppose. There’s talk of bandit programs that take over computers. More realistically, there’s talk of disappearing programs, that automatically wipe themselves after a certain time — that is, they contain instructions that cause the computer to wipe them, do you see?”

Derec nodded, a memory clicking into place. He’d heard of such programs as toys, but a good computer could usually retain them. And a network of computers … if you were getting food or lodging with your ration tag, that allocation would have to be routed through so many computers that though the first computer might lose the program, the memory of the transaction would remain. His little erasure at the hospital had been simple, and he’d caught the accounting trail early, so there was no trace.

But of course there was no memory of their arrival in any Earthly computer. Only in one Earthly positronic brain.

“Violation of the Immigration Act can be charged against you,” said Donovan chattily. “We couldn’t make it stick without proof that you knowingly and deliberately invaded without the legal formalities. But we could hold you pending an investigation.”

“We couldn’t go far in any case,” said Derec. “Earth is one big jail.”

Donovan nodded. “Any planet is.”

Derec tried to imagine how many computers in how many bureaus and branches of government would have to be foxed to slip a spy in. His mind boggled; no wonder they were concerned. Far easier to believe that a ship sneaked in and dropped someone, despite orbital radar and other detection devices.

They were overreacting: easier to slip in spies in other guises, like traveling sociology students. Except that Spacers never went anywhere on Earth, and now here were two of them.

“How many of you are there, on Earth?” Donovan asked casually.

It hit Derec that he didn’t really know. He had supposed that Dr. Avery worked alone, but his belief that it was so didn’t make it so. Besides, Dr. Avery worked through robots, and there could be any number of them

“I don’t know,” he said frankly. “We were told little. I have reason to think that we are the only two.”

He shrugged. “It’s hard to find volunteers for social studies on Earth. Too few Spacers care about the subject in the first place; they’d rather study robotics.”

Donovan nodded, sitting leaning slightly toward him, not at all relaxed. There was so much energy and sheer competence in that pose that Derec had the sudden realization that if he were to attack the Earthman, the other would pinion him as efficiently as any robot. If not quite as gently. The idea of concealing the location of R. David and the apartment seemed silly. This man represented a planetwide investigative organization.

“Most of their agents are robots,” he said, and that got an instant response, instantly blanked.

A nice fat red herring for you to follow, he thought gleefully, and then idly wondered what a red herring was, and on what planet the phrase had originated.

“Any idea who they are?” Donovan asked, casual again.

Very little. “Only that it’s a sociological investigation. There’s been some talk about Laws of Humanics, the mathematical expressions that describe how human beings relate to each other. Studies of society have been made on various Spacer worlds, as disparate as Aurora and Solaria.” Derec was detailing the theories of certain of the robots of Robot City.

He finished with a shrug. “I suppose that they find Earth the best case study, it having the densest population and the longest cultural history.”

“It seems odd that they’d memory-wipe their agents just for a cultural study,” said Donovan dubiously.

“What were you instructed to look for?”

Derec thought fast, holding his face as nearly expressionless as he could. He felt that he was sweating.

Keep it close to the truth, he told himself. “The study’s not so important, but uncontaminated data is. If we entered openly, we’d be under the surveillance of your Bureau. Understandable enough; Spacers aren’t common on Earth.”

“Especially not in the Cities,” said Donovan dryly.

“The knowledge that we were being watched, followed, even protected, would affect what we observed. It would be an emotional wall between us and Earth people. It would be a safety net. It would prevent us from living like Earthers.”

“And that’s what you were sent here to do?” The TBI man was skeptical, but not closed-minded.

“Yes. We weren’t told to look for anything specific; that would have warped our data. We were simply told to go to St. Louis, to settle in, to spend some time, and to record our impressions.” The moment he spoke the last four words Derec realized how big an error he’d made.

Then he thought of an explanation. But he was still sweating when the Terry said, “But that doesn’t explain why your memories were erased.”

“Oh. To prevent us from telling anything about the techniques by which our IDs were wiped from your computers. You see, they wanted us to disappear completely, to prevent contamination.”

Donovan nodded slowly. Derec couldn’t tell how much of it he had swallowed.

“I see. Well, you have not yourself violated any law that we know of, except as accessory to violation of the Immigration Act, and computer fraud. The last of which can ‘t be proven, because we have no records to cite! We’ve found platinum and iridium that we think must have been dumped by your organization to pay for your support here. There’s also some hafnium we can’t trace a source for. You, or they, have more than paid for all you’ve consumed, so there are no complaints on that score.”

Donovan looked severely at him. “You understand that there are a lot of red faces at the TBI, and some angry ones elsewhere in Washington. I’m just the A-in-C of the local office, and even I felt the heat. They don ‘t, we don’t, like having our computers messed with so freely, gato. But nobody wants trouble either — certainly we don’t want to see you lynched. Sorry about your wife. Hope she gets better. We suggest that you leave as soon after that as possible.”

Derec nodded, gulping, glad the other didn’t ask to see the “impressions” they were supposedly recording. He could say she’d been taken sick so rapidly they hadn’t had time — true enough, too.

Leaving when Ariel got better was a good idea, too — and not just because of the sternly repressed dislike on the special agent’s face.

After that, things got worse. For five days in a row they refused to let Derec see Ariel. Afterward, he could see her, but only her trimensional image; he wasn’t allowed in the room. She passed through the crisis of the disease during that time, and they began to implant the earliest memories. That left her in an hypnotic state most of the time, and when she wasn’t in it she was asleep or on the verge of sleep.

“Somnambulistic state,” Dr. Powell said. “Though of course she can’t walk. Too weak yet.”

Derec grimly worked at recording and coding, eating little and sleeping less. Dreams of Robot City haunted him waking and sleeping. He couldn’t help brooding, while working, over such nonsensical questions as: did Dr. Avery get out of Robot City before it was shrunk, or was a tiny madman swimming through his bloodstream at this moment? How about the Human Medical Team; were they making the most of their opportunity to study human anatomy and biochemistry?

Earthers whom he passed in the corridors and ways tended to avoid him; he looked sick and desperate, as his infrequent glances in mirrors told him. Not all Earthers avoided him, however. Once a man glanced directly at him in Personal, and Derec was so accustomed to Earthly ways that he was shocked. Then he thought for a startled moment that it was Donovan. But it wasn’t the special agent, it was merely a man who looked like him: a man with an easy, athletic carriage, an air of competence, and the look of eagles in his eyes.

Another such man sat across from him at breakfast one morning, and occasionally he was half-conscious of other TBI men about. Nothing so conspicuous as ducking into corners as he came by, or peering from doorways. They simply were about.

He decided not to worry about it. The Terries had compelling reasons of their own for not making a scene, and so long as he gave no evidence of spying, he doubted they’d do anything. Probably they were there for his protection. Derec grinned faintly, the only hint of humor in all that bleak time: they were contaminating his observations.

“I told you so,” he said to the absent Donovan.

Being watched by the TBI did not bother him; he was used to being watched by mother-hen robots.

He did think much, though, on what the Terry had told him: he had never had the plague, though he had antitoxins to its neurotoxin in his blood. He’d had the memory loss without the plague. He’d received a dose of the neurotoxin without having had the disease.

Well, his arrival on that ice asteroid, without his memory, while the robots were searching for the Key to Perihelion, never had seemed to him like an accident or a coincidence. He felt, and always had, as if he were a piece in a game, being herded across the board for someone else’s reasons. A mad someone else.

The only one he knew of with both the madness and the genius was Dr. Avery.

They had to get back to Robot City.

One morning during this period he looked up from table J-9 and saw Korolenko next to him. She was wearing her hospital whites, or he might not have recognized her.

“Eat your bacon,” she said crisply as recognition dawned on his face.

The thought made him ill. Yeast-based or no, it was fat and greasy and sickening. His opinion of the bacon showed on his face.

“Then eat the eggs. And the toast.” Korolenko’s voice was grim. “Look, Mr. Avery, you won’t help your wife by collapsing of starvation.”

Derec wanted to say it was stress, not starvation, but realized that there was something in what she said.

He’d been living on fruit juices and caffeine. He managed to choke down the toast and some of the scrambled eggs, with lots of hot, sweet tea.

“That’s better. We’ll see you at the hospital tomorrow.”

That night Derec had one of his worst dreams about Robot City, and the next day he sat looking at nothing and thinking about it..

Nothing silly about Dr. Avery shrinking, or the Human Medical Team. He knew perfectly well that Robot City was on its own planet — even during the dream. What he was dreaming was that a miniature version had been injected into his blood, where it had started growing and reproducing. Here the dream became silly — the miniature city was getting iron from his red blood cells. But there was nothing silly about the feeling it left him with.

Come to think of it, Robot City could be thought of as a kind of infection of the planet on which it had been established. It, too, had grown from a single point of infection, a living organism that had grown and reproduced.

Robot City inside him. He could feel it there. The feeling was so strong that he forgot all about eating, or going to the hospital. Even Ariel was faint in the back of his mind.

Chapter 12

AMNESIAC

ARIEL AWOKE SLOWLY, stretched tired limbs, and looked about. The hospital. It seemed to stretch into the remote past. She could scarcely remember a time when it wasn’t all around her. The world beyond it was vague in her mind. A city, she recalled. No, a City, a City of Earth, a humming hive of people, people, people. Beyond, though, was space, and stars, and the Spacer worlds.

Robot City was there, and Derec, and the Human Medical Team. Wolruf and Mandelbrot, who had been called Alpha, long ago. Aranimas, too, was out there somewhere. Beyond that — Aurora. She couldn’t remember. Aurora — everybody knew about Aurora. Planet of the Dawn, first settled from Earth, land of peace and contentment and civilization, richest and most powerful of the Spacer worlds.

The world she had called home, and which had exiled her, leaving her to die alone.

But no memories came.

She couldn’t remember her homeworld. She couldn’t remember her parents, her school, her first robot.

Of course not. She had had amnemonic plague — Burundi’s fever, they called it in the Spacer worlds.

She had lost her memory.

But she was alive. Ariel began to weep.

A robot was at her bedside, a silly Earth robot with a cheerful face. “Mrs. Avery, are you well? We have been ordered to minimize drug dosages to let you recuperate, but if your distress is too intense we can give you tranquilizers.”

With an effort, she calmed herself enough to say, “Thank you, but I am quite well. I merely weep in relief that I am alive. I did not expect to survive.”

The spell broken, she found the weeping fit over. She was hungry. She told them so, and was promptly fed. Afterward, feeling tired, very tired, vastly tired, from long lying in even the cleverest hospital bed with all its muscle tone-retaining tricks, she drifted off to sleep.

When Ariel awoke, she was aware again of who she was and that she had had amnemonic plague. She had survived! They told her that her memories would return gradually, based on the foundation they had implanted in her brain. She didn’t believe them, but she didn’t care. She was alive!

When she had eaten again, they told her, “Your husband is here.”

Husband! For an awful moment she was totally blank. “My what?”

They led in a thin, hollow-eyed boy.

“Your husband — Derec Avery,” said the robot.

After a moment, she recognized

“His name isn’t Derec!” she said, and at his anguished expression she halted. No — David was dead, he had died of carbon monoxide poisoning on Robot City. No — he had disappeared — she didn’t know what had happened — her memories were scrambled, or gone.

Derec!

After a moment she asked, hesitantly, half knowing it was wrong, half fearing it was wrong, “Husband?”

“Why, of course,” said he, smiling. He looked so thin, the smile was a grimace on his wasted cheeks.

Her heart bumped painfully, and she felt a pricking in her eyes. One of his eyes closed and opened as he continued confidently, “Some things come back faster than others, they tell me — not much of a compliment to me that our wedding wasn’t the first thing you remembered!”

Ariel smiled and thought: Avery! She couldn’t remember how that name of all names was stuck on them — she knew he hadn’t been going under it. But no doubt there was a logical explanation that she would remember in due time. She remembered now their escape from Robot City, their use of the Key, leaving Wolruf and Mandelbrot, and their arrival on Earth in a sparse apartment.

Still smiling faintly, she leaned back and said, “I do remember now, but it’s all a little faint — like, like a remembered dream. I hope you won’t quiz me on it till I’ve had time to remember more.”

“Of course not,” he said, and the instant he had completed the phrase, a robot broke in.

“The doctors’ directions are that you not attempt to force the memories. It would be better, Mr. Avery, if you never questioned her about your past or hers.”

“Yes, I’ve been told. Thank you,” he said, with true Spacer politeness toward robots. Here in the hospital, the medtechs and nurses called them all boy!

“So when can I get out of this place and — and out?” she asked, feeling the suffocating terror of claustrophobia closing in. Gamely, she fought against it. It had been her constant companion since arriving in the hospital, and all during her illness she had battled it. If not for tranquilizers, she’d have lost her mind while losing her memory.

“Well, you’re still pretty weak physically, and the doctors are not sure yet about your memory. They want to keep you here for a couple more days just on mind games. After that — I dunno. R. Jennie, do you know?”

“Mrs. Avery must have several days of physical therapy before she can safely leave the hospital, Mr.

Avery,” said the robot. “As for her memory, and her mind generally, I have not been informed.”

“If I don’t get out of here soon, I’ll go mad!” she said with a sudden vehemence that startled her. There was an impulse to resist what her conditioning told her was a lapse into madness, but she had had all she could take of concrete caverns and crowds of — of troglodytes. “I want to see the sun again, and breathe air, and — and feel the grass, and —”

Abruptly she was weeping, for in the midst of this catalog of sights that she had not seen since her memory began, there came a sudden demanding vision: an image of a garden, somewhere; of bright light and flowers and warmth, drowzy warmth, with bees humming sweetly on key, and the scent of orange blossoms. Someone she loved lay just out of sight.

Ariel turned over and wept passionately for some minutes, her face in her pillow. She felt a hand on her shoulder, not a robotic hand, and felt faintly grateful, but was too wretched to turn.

A detached, floating calm gradually washed away her tears, leaving her tired but spent. Tranquilizer; the robots never gave her more than a few minutes to weep. They usually allowed her that — or she’d have gone mad from the inability to express her emotions at all.

When she turned, Korolenko was there, frowning in conversation with — Derec, she must remember always to call him. That was right, that was what the Earthers called him. But there was another reason, which she couldn’t quite recall, why she must not use his true name. Or did she know his true name, after all? She had forgotten so much, could she trust that memory too?

Avery! she thought, remotely astonished. The drug made all emotions remote.

She wondered vaguely where Dr. Avery was now. Still on Robot City, she supposed. For a moment she felt an ironic amusement at the thought that they had been using his apartment, his robot, and his funds on Earth. Then she knew that this was an old amusement, she’d had this thought before; and with that thought, she remembered having had the amusement before.

“Memory is like drink,” she said to the uncomprehending robot. She felt a little light-headed.

The nurse and a robot stepped aside as they spoke together and Ariel looked, shocked, at … Derec.

“Why is … he so — thin?” she demanded abruptly.

“Mr. Avery? He had been under a strain, Mrs. Avery. He has been worried about you and has not been eating sufficiently.”

“Does he have —” Her heart stopped, started painfully. “— Burundi’s fever?” Again her heart shook her.

“No, Mrs. Avery. He is merely under a strain.”

“He’s sick,” she said.

“No, Mrs. Avery.”

“He is sick,” Ariel said positively, peering at him narrowly with the observant eyes of one who has recently passed near to the gates of death. “He is — dying.”

Nurse Korolenko heard enough of that to frown at her, and one of the robots — R. Jennie, Ariel thought — went to the control board at the head of the bed, but merely checked the readings.

“Derec is a young fool who has neither been sleeping nor eating, and who has spent all his time brooding over you,” said Korolenko, angry not at her or at Derec, but at his stupidity.

“There’s nothing else to do in that stupid apartment but stare at the ceiling,” Ariel said, irritated on his behalf. Why did he keep staring at her with eyes like holes in space? “Frost, there’s not even a trimensional there.”

“You wanted to experience life as Earth people do, and apparently low-rated Earth people at that, so you have no more than they do,” Korolenko said, shrugging.

Wanted … to experience …? She turned eyes in inquiry on … Derec, who shrugged also, grimacing ruefully.

“Perhaps you don’t remember that the Institute wiped our memories temporarily before we came to Earth, so we wouldn’t be able to reveal their techniques,” he said.

Ariel could only stare in amazement. “When you are well enough to travel, we will leave. Of course, since we’ve been discovered here, our purpose of sociological study is negated. And once back on Aurora, we will have our own recorded memories reimplanted.”

She had heard of none of this. The Institute? Institute of what? Study? Of Earth? But, own recorded memories reimplanted.... Ariel leaned back and for a moment thought tears would leak from her eyes.

“So you’ve lost your memory twice over, but it’s only temporary.”

“I’d like to know just how that’s done,” growled a baritone voice. After a moment Ariel identified it: Dr.

Powell. She had heard it often enough in the past weeks. “I know, I know, you haven’t the foggiest — only a brief layman’s description that doesn’t describe.”

When she opened her eyes, they were all around her bed, with R. Jennie at the controls.

“Well, young lady, your request for a visit to the outdoors is a bit … unusual.” He visibly repressed a shudder of distaste at the thought, and Ariel, fascinated, realized that to this man the outside was more fear-inspiring than the claustrophobic City was to her.

“We can’t very well add you to the list on a Settler Acclimatization Group, and the only other people who go … outside are the odd Farming, Mining, and Pelagic Overseers. They are solitary as well as agoraphilic, very strange types; they wouldn’t welcome an addition. Certainly not a sick Spacer. And there’s nobody else to take care of you.”

“Robots?” she asked weakly, looking at R. Jennie.

The doctor frowned, shook his head. “It’s difficult to move a robot through the City without having it mobbed and destroyed. Robots are being restricted more and more each year; we have half as many here now at Towner Laney than when I was an intern. That leaves only your husband, and frankly, within a couple of days you’ll be taking care of him.”

“I’m all right,” said Derec with a flash of irritation that for a moment brought back the companion of the hospital station — Ariel couldn’t remember the name, but she remembered the station — and of Robot City. “What’s the signal coding of the local office of the TBI?”

“The what?” Dr. Powell stared at him. “The comm number? Why would you want to call the Terries?”

From his tone it was obvious he had guessed, and seethed at the thought.

“To get authorization to have robots moved through the motorways, and for permission to leave the City, if only for a short period.”

“Hmmph! Medically —”

“Medically it would do her good, Doctor,” said the nurse quietly.

“True, damn it, but we need to be sure that her mental condition — the implants —”

“We can’t keep bringing her back and forth, I admit,” said Korolenko.

“Ariel, could you … hold off till tomorrow?” Derec asked.

Tomorrow … she was so tired, from inaction and drugs, that she’d sleep till then anyway … Ariel could have stood anything for a tomorrow in the sun.

“Oh, yes, yes.” She’d be good, she’d

Ariel had a moment of vivid memory, herself quite young, promising her mother that she would be very, very good. Was that when she’d been given her first robot? Or was that Boopsie, the pup?

When the first vivid reexperience faded, she looked up and they had drawn apart. It was no matter; it would be all right tomorrow.

“Never saw myself as nursemaid to a couple of Spacers and a robot,” said Donovan. The agent-in-charge had not trusted any of his men to go outside.

The hospital had an emergency entrance and egress for ambulances, and was a major junction on the motorways. R. Jennie carried Ariel down in its arms, Ariel having chosen that over being wheeled, strapped to a gurney, or in a chair with wheels.

The hospital had supplied an ambulance, but the Terry eyed it with distaste. “We’ll use the Bureau car,”

he said. “There’s room for four of us, robot or no.”

R. Jennie gently put Ariel into the back seat and got in beside her, the car creaking and sinking under the weight until the suspension system analyzed the imbalance and compensated for it. Derec and Donovan got into the front seat, and the agent took the controls and sent them surging silently down a ramp and into a lit but dim-seeming tunnel.

For a moment Ariel fought a scream, tensing; the claustrophobia was worse in such tight passages. But she fought it off, helped by the speed of their passage. Signs blurred past soundlessly as the Terry tapped more and more of the beamed power. Once the ceiling lit up in bloody light, and winking yellow arrows along the walls gave obscure warning. Then a blue car whipped by in the other direction, Donovan having avoided it with the warning.

“Like the models we trained on,” murmured Derec, glancing back at her.

For a moment she was blank on that, the she remembered the roofless roads and the emergency vehicle monitors, the remote control sweaty in her hand, and the laughing students crowding around. But that was nothing like this dim, empty wormhole.

GLENDALE, KIRKWOOD, MANCHESTER, WINCHESTER, BALLWIN, ELLISVILLE, the signs flowed past, as fast as the expressway would have taken them. Ariel ignored all the labyrinthine branchings and windings that twisted obscurely away right and left out of sight, peering past Derec to see as far before them as possible.

The tunnel was a rectangle of dim light, two glowing tracks overhead and a pair of glowing, beaded tracks on the sides, the last being the glowing signs, fading into tininess.

At last, though, there came an interruption in the shape of the tunnel. It got dark at the limit of vision, the darkness outlined in light. Presently the outline of light appeared as various warning signs. The darkness was a ramp, leading up.

Donovan slowed sharply, causing R. Jennie to lean forward and prepare itself for a snatch at the controls.

“Don’t worry, boy,” said the Terry, grinning but not looking back. Ariel had him in profile. “I’ve driven for thousands of hours, faster than this, and no problems.”

“Twenty-one point three percent of all major traumas to enter Towner Laney Memorial Hospital occur in the motorways,” said R. Jennie, unperturbed. “Fewer than twenty percent occur on the ways. A few thousand humans use the motorways; seven million use the ways.”

“Damn, I always hated know-it-all robots,” grunted Donovan, taking the ramp with unnecessary flair.

“Could never stand to live on any Spacer world. A man should have the right to go to hell in his own way.”

The car eased to a stop at a barrier. Donovan played a tune on his computer controls and the barrier opened. He drove through, they wound a complicated path that apparently avoided heavy traffic — there were thunderous rushing sounds through the walls, but no traffic in their motorway — and they were at a huge entry in the outer wall.

Kilometer-long lines of great trucks full of produce, some robot-driven, most computer-controlled, roared in with noisy, huge tires but silent engines and dived into the City just below them. They were on a higher ramp, one of a dozen that leaped out of the City from high and low. Donovan stopped the car well back from that light-blazing gap.

“You’ll have to walk from here,” he said abruptly. “Car won’t go any further — no beamcast beyond the barrier.”

Chapter 13

ROBOT CITY AGAIN

“PAULINS,” SAID R. Jennie. “They are used to cover machinery in the fields against rain and dew. There are no tents available in the immediate vicinity of St. Louis. Perhaps in a day or two there will be a tent.”

The plasticated canvas of the big paulins worked as well as a tent, strung over a couple of poles and tied to a tree limb. It was needed more for shade than shelter. This move to the country had not been a simple one, nor could they keep it up for more than a day or two.

But it was such a relief!

Ariel could tell that Derec felt the same sense of escape that she did. The sky of Earth was wide and blue and very high, and little puffy clouds ambled slowly across it, all framed by the pointed opening of the “tent.” The sunlight was just right. The plants were the familiar green of Earth life everywhere, and they too seemed just right. Except in greenhouses, she had probably never seen Earthly plants in the natural light of the sun in which they evolved. Even the heat was not unpleasant.

“We won’t need a tent, if we have to wait that long,” said Derec grimly.

“You should return to the City as soon as you can,” R. Jennie said. “Mrs. Avery is far from recovered from the fever.”

Ariel felt quite recovered from the fever, though her memory was returning slowly. Weak as she undoubtedly was, she thought with concern, she could have wrestled Derec two falls out of three and won. But he said nothing about his own condition.

“Everything’s so … ordinary,” said Ariel, looking out at the kind of birds and plants and small animals she had seen all her life. A squirrel is a squirrel, and sounds just the same on Aurora. Even the shrilling of the unseen insects was familiar. Humans had taken their familiar symbiotic life-forms with them to the stars.

She had expected Earth to be more exotic.

The reality was a relief more than a disappointment.

“It must have been a bad time for you,” she said to Derec, when R. Jennie had stepped out to the … kitchen. They had been supplied with something called a “hot plate” and a dielectric oven.

Derec moodily watched the robot prepare the packaged meals, designed for people with high enough ratings to permit them to eat in their own apartments. This was luxury for their rate.

“Bad, well.” He shrugged, clearly not wishing to discuss it. “I did learn one thing from R. David: there’s a spaceship belonging to Dr. Avery in the New York port. If we could get there —”

“How, if our rating doesn’t permit us to travel that far?”

“We’ll have to get him to make ID with higher ratings for us —”

R. Jennie stepped under the opening with a tray holding coffee and juices. When she had gone, Ariel said, “I hope they don’t discover the apartment.”

“I suspect the Terries know all about it, but won’t make trouble. They want us gone before we get mobbed or something. We’ve been very lucky.”

“Couldn’t we ask Donovan for assistance?” she asked wistfully.

“We could. I thought of it,” Derec said, broodingly. “But that’d be above his level, surely. If Earth can ignore us, it won’t be so badly embarrassed if we’re discovered here, investigating — or spying on — Earth people. But if they have helped us in any way, they can’t deny having known about us.”

“Helping us would be seen as condoning our presence,” she said grayly. “I understand.” Politics seemed to be the same everywhere. “So what can we do? Get new ID — will the Terries spot that, do you think?”

“Frost, I don’t know —”

R. Jennie gave them fruit cups and whipped cream, returned to the kitchen, a rustic scene in the frame of the tent opening.

The fruit was good, but unusual — compotes served in what she thought of as unsweetened ice cream cones. It was like eating warm ice cream with strong fruit flavors. All yeast, she supposed.

“If they do spot us at it, I suppose they’d look the other way. But what worries me is that it would alarm them. They’d know we weren’t telling everything, they’d realize that R. David — or someone — has ID

duplicating equipment. They might well raid the apartment.”

Ariel thought about that for a moment. As long as they weren’t arrested and the Key to Perihelion taken from them, it didn’t matter.

“Oh. The Key is focused on the apartment,” she said. “We’d be unable to retreat to it.” She remembered well the occasion when they’d had to do so.

“We will be in any case; we couldn’t begin to explain our reappearance,” Derec said. “They’d guess too much —”

“Zymoveal,” said R. Jennie. “There is also a chicken wing for each of you. Chicken soup, made of real chicken with yeast enhancement. Bread, real potatoes, gravy.”

A simple, hearty meal. Ariel ate with good appetite, but her stomach seemed to have shrunk. Weeks of eating little in hospital had altered her eating habits. Derec, however, carried on grimly, eating long after it became obvious that he’d had all he wanted, eating on to the edge of nausea.

When the robot had retreated, Ariel said, “I see. It’s all or nothing. Well, if so I won’t weep. If we could just get to New York!”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. I’d be tempted to walk — it’s on this continent — but it’s a couple of thousand kilometers, and we’d starve.”

“Too bad. Derec, why do you go on eating when anyone can see you’re full?”

He looked up at her grimly, harassed, his eyes sunken, his face thin and lined … I’ve not been eating enough, or sleeping well enough. Everybody says so. I need to get my strength back now that you’re well.”

“Have you really worried that much about me?” she asked, her heart thumping. She felt flattered, and also dismayed, as if it were her fault.

“Well, it isn’t just that.” Derec lowered his fork, swallowed coffee, looked queasy. “I’ve been upset. I haven’t been sleeping. I-I keep having this strange stupid dream. About Robot City.”

Ariel stared at him.., A stupid dream made you look like a walking wreck?”

“Yes.” He looked … frightened. “Ariel, there’s something unusual about this. I-I keep dreaming that Robot City is inside me. We’ve got to get back there.”

Robot City!

Ariel’s mind was flooded with a hundred images, sounds, odors even, of the great robot-inhabited planet, where the busy machines worked away like so many bees, building and building for the ultimate good of humans. It was an Earthly City without a roof, populated by robots rather than humans. They’d been trapped there, first by the robots themselves, then by their mad designer, Dr. Avery.

“Go back there?” she whispered tensely. “I’ll never go back!”

“We must,” said Derec, his voice just as low and determined, but also indifferent. It was as if he was speaking not to her but to himself. “I’m dying or something. I don’t know what Dr. Avery did to me, but …”

What had he not already done? Derec had lost his memory long ago, and only Dr. Avery could have removed it. She had known that as soon as she realized that he had lost all memory of her. Human beings were less than robots to Avery, they were guinea pigs.

Go back? To save Derec’s life?

But I’m cured! she wanted to cry. I can go back to Aurora and say to them: Look, the despised Earthers cured me after you cast me out! You don’t need to watch your sons and daughters lose their memories and die — you can cure them. If you can persuade the Earthers to tell you how!

There need be no more of this aimless existence, running from planet to planet, looking for a cure, for an excuse to go on hoping. There could be a home, a place in society, all the wealth of associations that membership in the human society meant.

They could even consider the Keys, the existence of aliens, Robot City itself — they could report Dr.

Avery, turn the Key over to the proper authority, shift the burden to other shoulders.

Ariel sighed.

“You don’t look good,” she said.

After all, how much did she owe him, anyway? At lot of apologies, if nothing else. She’d blamed him wrongly for too much.

“I hope there are star charts in the ship,” he said. Derec put a hand to his brow. “If we can get back to Kappa Whale, we can take both ships back to Robot City. That’ll give us a spare. Dr. Avery won’t think of that — I hope.” He rubbed his face slowly; his eyes squinted as if the light were too bright.

“Is it getting dark?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Ariel said. “The sun will be setting in a little while, but it won’t start to get dark for another hour.”

“Oh.”

“What kind of dreams have you been having?” she asked skeptically, thinking that they might have been right: if he’d not been eating, or sleeping, it might all be strain —

“Like I said, I dream that Robot City has been shrunk into my bloodstream. I don’t know why it frosts me so, but it does. I can’t shake it off. It’s a — a haunting feeling.” He rubbed his face again, haggard.

Ariel didn’t know what to say. “It … doesn’t sound like an ordinary dream.”

“I’m sure it’s no dream,” he said instantly, looking sick. “Something’s going on.” R. Jennie entered the opening of the tent and he said, dully, “R. Jennie, what are chemfets?”

“I do not know, Mr. Avery.”

“Derec —”

“I wish I could sleep. It drives you crazy if you don’t have real dreams.”

“Derec, you really look — awful.” Ariel felt a stab of real fear. “Oh, Derec!”

He looked as if he were about to throw up. Drooling, he pushed his light camp chair back, starting to get up. He fell over.

“Derec!”

R. Jennie came with a rush, cradled him as Derec’s arms and legs started to flail. “He is having convulsions. I do not know what is wrong,” she said. “Help me hold him —”

Ariel was too weak herself to be of much help, but after a few moments Derec’s seizure eased, he sighed heavily, and he began to breathe in a more normal fashion instead of inhaling in great tortured gasps. His limbs relaxed, and R. Jennie warily lowered him to the carpet-covered grass of the tent floor.

“He seems to be much better, but this is not a natural sleep,” said the robot. “Unfortunately, there is no communo in the area, nor do I possess a subetheric link. I must go for help. Ariel, you must watch him.”

“What do I do if he … has another seizure?” she asked, huskily.

“Hold him. Do not put a spoon in his mouth.” And with that puzzling admonition, the robot began to run toward the City.

Greatly to her relief, Derec awoke within ten minutes. “How are you?” she whispered, frightened.

“I’m okay,” he said faintly. He did look greatly relieved. “Chemfets,” he said.

“What?”

“Robot City is inside me, in a manner of speaking.” Derec struggled with her weak help to a sitting position. “I’m thirsty.”

Hastily, Ariel poured him some juice. He drank carefully, seeming a little dizzy.

“We keep thinking of robots in terms of positronic brains,” he said, seemingly at random. “But computers existed before positronic brains and are still widely in use. At least a dozen computers of different sizes for every positronic brain, even on the Spacer worlds. And for a long time there’ve been desultory attempts to reduce computers in size and give them some of the characteristics of life.”

“Derec — are you all right?”

He looked at her seriously, haunting knowledge in his sunken eyes. “No. I’ve been infected with chemfets. Microscopic, self-replicating computer circuits. Robot City is in my bloodstream. When I fell asleep just now, the monitor that Dr. Avery implanted in my brain opened communication with them.”

“What … what are they doing?” Ariel could scarcely grasp it, it was so strange. What would a chemfet want? Was it truly alive?

“Growing and multiplying, at the moment. I don’t think they’re anywhere near … call it maturity. The monitor … I don’t think it’s of any use yet. It’s as if they have nothing to say to me yet.”

“But they may later?” she asked swiftly.

“I suppose.” He looked at her, haggard. “I wonder if they’ve been programmed with the Three Laws?”

Ariel grunted. “Yes. I suppose they’ve been upsetting your body systems. No wonder you’ve been sick.

Will … will the dreams continue?”

He thought about it, shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think those were just the monitor trying to open contact. Once the channel is opened, it won’t be worked unless they have something to say.”

“How about if you have something to say to them?” Ariel asked, with a flash of anger.

“I suppose … if I learn how to work the monitor,” he said dubiously.

“And tell them to get out of your body because they’re killing you! First Law,” she said.

Then: “I hope they’re programmed with the Three Laws.” Frightened, she looked at him.

Strength and purpose seemed to have flowed back into him: knowledge of what was going on, a drop in the subtle pressure the monitor had been putting on him, relief, a good meal. It was something merely to know what the problem was.

“We’ve got to get back to Robot City,” he said with determination. “I now know that part of my feeling on that was due to the pressure of the monitor. The chemfets want me back there for some reason. But we have our own reason for going back. We’ve got to confront Dr. Avery and make him reverse this — infestation.”

Ariel nodded in angry agreement. “Yes! Dr. Avery has played his games with us, and especially with you, for too long.”

He stood up, and though he leaned on the table, he seemed much stronger. “But how do we get off Earth?”

“We’ll have to consult with R. David. If we can get back to the apartment without a lot of …”

“Where’s R. Jennie?”

“She’s gone for help. You had — convulsions.”

“No wonder my muscles are sore. She’s gone for — doctors? I can’t let them examine me —”

Ariel grunted in understanding. “We’d never get away — they’d hospitalize you.” She looked at him.

“They might even be able to cure you.”

Derec said, “I’ve come to have a lot of respect for Earth ‘s doctors, but this is a matter of robotics. I think we’d better go back to the source. I’d like to know what reason Dr. Avery had for this — what did he hope to accomplish?”

Ariel could only shake her head. “Just using you as a guinea pig, I suppose.”

“Yes, but that shows that he has some reason for developing chemfets, even if he doesn’t care about me. There must be some use for them.” As he spoke, Derec was groping in his pockets. He produced the Key to Perihelion. “At least, with R. Jennie gone, we can vanish without any questions being asked.”

“Questions will be asked,” she warned him.

“Yes,” Derec said, pressing the corners and taking her hand. “But not of us.”

Perihelion’s gray nothingness surrounded them. “They’ll assume some sensible explanation, involving the imaginary institute that sent us to Earth,” Derec added, looking around in the gray fog.

“I guess so,” she said dubiously. “As long as we aren’t spotted in the City.”

“Or any other City.”

The apartment appeared around them, and Derec sagged with the return to gravity. Alarmed, Ariel threw her arm around him and instantly R. David was there, supporting him from the other side.

“Mr. Avery! What is the matter?”

Derec obviously hadn’t prepared an answer.

“Derec is sick,” said Ariel swiftly. “We must get him to Aurora for treatment. The spaceship is at New York City Port. How can we get there the soonest?”

“The fastest means of travel on Earth is by air,” said R. David. The robot hesitated, bending over to assure itself that Derec wasn’t dying at that moment.

“I’ll be okay,” said Derec, his voice low but firm.

“What’s the fastest means of travel that our rating will permit us to use?” Ariel asked.

“Air travel,” said the robot. “Isn’t it rationed?”

“No,” said the robot. “You see, on Earth, necessities are rationed on an as-needed basis. Scarce luxuries, such as real meat and fish, or larger and better quarters, are rationed mostly on a basis of social standing. Some of the less-scarce luxuries, such as candy and birthday cards, are available partly on a rationing basis and partly on a cash basis. These are the so-called ‘discretionary luxuries,’ minor items not everyone wants.

“Finally, luxuries in large supply are distributed purely on a monetary basis, and this includes air travel.

The air system was designed for emergencies. Since Earth people hate to travel by air, the excess is freely available. It is expensive, but your bank account cards are amply charged.”

Ariel fumbled through her wallet for the window with the cash card. Was it a real memory, or did she dream that she had dropped her purse on the expressway? A dream; or else R. David had replaced the ID. “Will our use of cash be monitored?” she asked.

“That is not possible. The privacy laws of Earth forbid scrutiny or oversight of these monetary transfers, so the provision doesn’t exist.”

Since money could only be used for “minor luxuries,” no wonder. “How do we get to an airport?”

R. David gave minute directions for taking the expressway to something he called Lambert Field, and after Derec had rested for a few minutes they went out to the communo and called for reservations on the next flight to New York. After two hours of fearful waiting for the knock of the TBI on the door, they ventured out for what Ariel devoutly hoped would be the last time through the corridors and ways of the City.

Each step of that passage brought back memories from just before the crisis of the amnemonic plague.

This time they rode the way only to the north-south junction, changed ways, and rode north for longer than they had ridden east on their previous excursion: BRENTWOOD, RICHMOND HEIGHTS, CLAYTON, UNIVERSITY CITY, VINITA PARK, CHARLACK, the forgotten political divisions of a simpler time. ST. JOHN, COOL VALLEY, KINLOCH.

And then, after thirty minutes of standing and holding on, fearing every moment that Derec would collapse, they saw LAMBERT FIELD AIRPORT, EXIT LEFT.

The airport was a sleepy place, considering St. Louis City’s seven million people. There was but one ticket window, the clerk there seemed subdued, and the few people in the waiting rooms never spoke or smiled. Presently their plane was announced.

Not only was the passage to the place covered, but the runway it took off from was also roofed over!

There were no windows in the place, so they had a choice of sleeping or of watching the continuous news and entertainment feed in front of each seat. Earthers scheduled most flights for night, and the five other passengers — only five! Ariel remembered the crowded millions on the ways — the other passengers elected to sleep, those who could. Most were too nervous to try. Derec slept all the way to New York, to Ariel’s intense satisfaction. She slept most of the way herself. Best of all, in the air and the airports, nobody spoke to them or even looked at them.

Chapter 14

STARS AGAIN

DEREC LOOKED UP at the ship in relief and wonder. “I can’t believe we made it,” he said.

“We haven’t gotten in yet,” said Ariel, edgily.

He approached and inserted his ID tab into the slot. After a moment, it opened. “Of course,” he murmured. “R. David gave us compatible IDs.”

The ship was a Star Seeker, identical, or nearly so, to the one they’d left in orbit around Kappa Whale.

On the ground, it was clumsy getting around inside it, but that was normal. They climbed slowly to the bow control room.

Ariel climbed easily — like Derec, not pushing it — and he was relieved to see that she was gaining strength day by day. He himself felt better after last night’s sleep than he had in weeks, but knew that his reserves were still very low. The acceleration seat was a relief after the climb.

“Checklist, please,” he said, depressing the Ship key and speaking to the air. The ship obediently displayed a checklist on a visor, and they went over it carefully. Some items had to be checked personally, most importantly, food. Ariel reported with concern that that was a low item.

“Only a few imperishables,” she said, “a few packages of radiation-preserved foods and some cans.”

Derec hesitated. That could be serious.

“What do you think?”

“I’d say take the chance,” Ariel said. “The TBI must be going mad over our disappearance. If they do a computer check, they may wonder about this Spacer ship. Don’t tell me they don’t watch carefully every takeoff and landing.

“Of course they wouldn’t be able to interfere; Earthers had little control over their own port, as they owned few ships. Still, if he and Ariel started shopping for food —

“Right. We’ll go.”

When they requested clearance it was readily given, and Derec primed the jets and goosed the micropile. The tubes burst into muffled thunder. He switched to air-breathing mode as soon as they had a little speed, and took an economical high-G trajectory into space. In minutes, the great blue world was off to one side.

“Which way?” Ariel asked.

There was a slight technical advantage in aiming one’s ship toward one’s objective, since intrinsic velocity was unaltered by passage through hyperspace. But the adjustment could be made at the other end.

“Straight out,” he said. “I’m not exactly afraid of pursuit, but —”

“Right.”

“Straight out” was in the direction Earth was traveling. Ariel calculated their fuel and Derec elected to use twenty percent. He liked a lot of maneuvering reserve. The bum wasn’t long, and when it was over, Earth had not altered much. It was more aft of them, and only a bit smaller. Now, though, there was a wall of delta-V between them and it: in order to catch them, any ship would have to match their change of velocity — their delta-V.

“We’ve got time to kill,” Derec said, feeling tired. Reaction weighed him down even in the absence of gravity.

“Think we should rig the condenser?” Ariel asked.

The thought of the excursion in a space-suit made him feel even more tired. Then he thought: Of course, Ariel can do it. She’s not sick any more.

She was still weak, though, despite her rapid recovery. And he himself was not up to it.

“It’s only for a week or two,” he said. “I think the ship can handle it. It’s only for two people, also.”

Ariel nodded. “Listen,” she said. “How do you feel? You seem better after your sleep, but you’re still sick. Just knowing what’s going on inside hasn’t cured you.”

That was true. “I feel tired at the moment. Why?”

“I want to talk about Robot City. I want to talk to you about everything we went through together, right back to the control room of Aranimas’s ship, before Rockliffe Station.”

She looked at him, her eyes big and intent. “I want all the help you can give me to recover my memory.”

That he could understand. “Of course, I’ll be glad to help. I just wish I could be more helpful.”

Ariel opened her mouth, closed it, her face pink. “Derec …” she said. “I … Derec, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more about yourself — about us. But I couldn’t! I couldn’t tell you I had amnemonic plague. And I-I can’t talk about us — from before. I’m not sure of my memories — I’ve lost so much, and I don’t know how much I can trust of what I have now. I’m sorry — but it’s just too uncertain — and too painful.”

Illness can make a person’s mind preternaturally clear. This was a girl who had been exiled and disinherited for having contracted a hideous disease. “Of course.”

Her feeling for him was obvious — the attraction, the repulsion, pain and pleasure intertwined in memories he didn’t share. Memories that now she couldn’t trust.

“No need to apologize,” he said gently. “There’s been nothing between us since Aranimas’s control room. Your previous memories, real or unreal, are of a different and forgotten person — whose name I don’t even know.”

She managed a weak smile. “True, that — person is forgotten. It’s true. You are a different person.

Derec — do you mind if I don’t tell you your — his — name? I’m not sure I really do know it. Besides, it’s easier for me to think of you as Derec —”

Derec suppressed a sharp, small pain. His lack of a past was an emptiness that was always with him.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he said. “Some things are more important than others. You are more important to me than any memory.”

And that was certainly true.

“Oh, Derec!” Ariel plunged at him, grappled him in a bearhug that sent them wheeling, laughing, through the air of the little ship, colliding with the bulkheads and the control board. Fortunately, the hoods were down over the control sections.

Lingering in the vicinity of Earth for a week was a risky business on several counts, Derec thought, but he had not wanted to bum more fuel unless he had to. Refueling was, in one sense, no problem: the rocket simply heated reaction mass with the micropile and flung it aft at very high velocity. Almost any kind of mass would do, and powdered rock in water — a slurry — was a very good reaction mass. It could be gotten almost anywhere. Water was next best; the ship was equipped to handle slurry, and the pumps could deal easily with water. These items were readily available in space or on planets.

There might not be time to stop and spend ten hours refueling, though. And they could well find themselves in a system with abundant fuel for them, but lacking the reserve fuel necessary to maneuver to it.

Ariel was a competent pilot herself, and had been traveling on her own for some time — Derec didn’t know how long — before being captured by Aranimas. And she was more reckless than he.

“If we’re going to spend all this time drifting, why don’t we do it in safety — at Kappa Whale? Or off Robot City?”

“If we’re pursued, we’ll bum more,” Derec said. “That would mean we’d have to bum still more at Robot City to lose our intrinsic velocity.”

“I think we should hurry,” she said. “Derec, I’m not happy about your condition. I don’t think you’re getting better. Every now and then you go off into a sort of fugue.”

It was true that occasionally the monitor opened, and the chemfets festering in his bloodstream droned an emotionless report into his mind about having overcome this or that difficulty or achieved this or that milestone of their growth. He supposed all this would mean much to Dr. Avery. To him it meant nothing, but he was not able to tune out the reports.

“At least I don’t go into convulsions anymore,” he said. The one incident was all there had been, but Ariel was obviously still frightened by the memory. He was glad he hadn’t been able to see himself. “You occasionally have — fugues, I guess, in an even more literal sense — yourself.”

She nodded. “I see you do the same thing — I suppose you still have flashes of memory, when memories return, so vividly that you are there.”

“Usually when I’m asleep, and I lose most of them,” Derec said.

Her memories were returning in a massive way, compared to his own. She wasn’t getting anything like a coherent account of her past life, of course, merely a chunk here and a chunk there. Like pages of a book torn out and scattered by the wind, here a leaf caught by a tree, there one against a house.

Four days out from Earth, with the mother planet a mere blue-green brilliant star behind them, now getting closer and closer to Sol, Derec and Ariel agreed that it was safe to open the hyperwave. They called Wolruf and Mandelbrot at Kappa Whale, but got no answer.

“Can you shift the elements so it broadcasts on the same wavelengths as the Keys to Perihelion do?”

Ariel asked.

He had told her their deduction about the failure of the hyperwave aboard Dr. Avery’s other Star Seeker; she had been in such a feverish state that it hadn’t registered with her at the time.

Derec shook his head somberly. “It calls for precision tools and a fairly lengthy research effort. First, just to determine what broadcasts the Keys spray their static on.”

“Ship static wavelengths, perhaps?”

“Perhaps …. Likely, in fact.” Hyperwave static was a fact of life, one the usual hyperwave link was designed to ignore. “But when did you even hear of a hyperlink designed to pick up static?”

Ariel smiled faintly, shook her head.

A week out from Earth, they started calculating the Jump to Kappa Whale.

“It hasn’t been too long,” said Ariel. “Wolruf’s food will hold out, of course, and so will their energy.

The micropile is good for years yet. They’ve a sufficient supply of fuel to do what little maneuvering they may require. They could Jump out of Kappa Whale and back to avoid pursuit, if they have to.”

“So they should still be there. Where would they go, without us, if they acquired star charts?”

Ariel couldn’t guess.

Charts were one of the first things he and Ariel had checked for when they had entered the ship. There was a complete set, and if there hadn’t been, they could have requested a copy from Control. One would have been beamed to them immediately, without a question.

“It’s easier to calculate a single Jump for Kappa Whale,” he said. “But it definitely isn’t safer.”

Ariel calculated three Jumps, and Derec almost agreed. “The trouble is, Kappa Whale is nearly behind us. Your first Jump turns us in hyper, which is possible, but it’s a strain on the engines. I suggest we Jump to Procyon, which is near enough to our line of flight, and do a partial orbit about it, burning to bring us out on direct line for the first of your Jumps.”

She bit her lip and said, “I’m sorry. I know I’m too reckless. I think it’s because I had a sheltered childhood. I never got hurt much when I was a kid.”

Derec grinned. “I have to admit that in my few short months of life I’ve acquired a healthy respect for the laws of chance.”

Their first approximations done, all that remained was to put final figures into the computer and let it solve the equations of the Jump. They needed to know their correct speed and direction with some accuracy, so they would know what to expect when they landed in Procyon’s arms.

Ariel bent to the instruments while Derec fumble-fingeredly tried to set up the computer for their first Jump.

After a long time, he said, “Ariel, can you handle this? I can’t seem to concentrate, and my fingers are made of rubber.”

She looked at him in concern. “I was afraid you were going off into a fever again.” Twice before on the trip he had had feverish episodes, as the chemfets altered their growth, in turn altering the environment around them: him.

Derec tried to fight off fear. He had no idea yet of the ultimate purpose of the chemfets, and had not been able to “talk” to them. Worse, he had no idea if he was contagious. After that one hug, they had avoided so much as touching each other, for fear that Ariel, too, would be infected with them.

They could well kill him — and might not care if they did.

“Very well,” Ariel said, her voice trembling a little. “Why don’t you take some febrifuge and stretch out?

Maybe a nap will bring you out of it.”

It sounded good to him. The febrifuge had helped break the last fever, they thought. He was swallowing the thick liquid carefully, because of free-fall and a slightly swollen throat, when Ariel cried out.

“Yes?” he said, catching his breath and relieved that he had not choked.

“There’s a spaceship closing on us.”

Pursuit from Earth! he thought.

The Star Seeker didn’t have very good detection apparatus, mostly meteor detection. It was this that had flashed an alarm. Meteors, however, do not move very fast. This object was flashing toward them.

The detector gave two readings, and Derec finally — through the throb in his head — concluded that their assailant had come up behind a more slowly moving rock.

“We should be able to get some kind of picture,” said Ariel.

“It’s still too far off, I think, for a visual image,” Derec said. He blinked his eyes to bring his vision back to a single focus. “I wish we had neutrino detectors.”

All nuclear power plants gave off neutrinos, and nobody bothers to shield them off. A neutrino reading would give them an estimate of power generating capacity, and thus of ship size. Of course, a battleship and a medium freighter would have similar-sized power plants, but some information would be better than none.

“Heat?”

“It isn’t burning at the moment,” she told him, consulting the bolometer. “It must have spotted us days ago and burned to intercept.”

“Go ahead and enter our Jump in the computer,” he said. It was all he could think of, and it wasn’t much. “How long will that take?”

“Too long,” she said gloomily. “You are right, though. It’s the best bet, especially if that’s an Earth Patrol ship. Derec, it might follow.”

He opened his mouth to say that it didn’t matter, then closed it. “Frost!”

They intended to maneuver at Procyon — they might be in the system a week, during which the bigger ship could hunt them down. Nor would there be any hope of help there.

He grasped at a straw. “Bigger ships need more fuel. If he can’t match our maneuvers —”

“And you call me reckless. Let’s not bet on it, okay?”

“Frost.”

The other pilot wasn’t maneuvering: he was swooping in to intercept their course from behind and to one side. He’d cross their course at a very sharp angle, pull ahead, and brake down, to let them drift into his arms. He was moving quite rapidly relative to them, far faster than the rock he was coming up behind, and would have to burn soon or swoop helplessly by them.

Their options were limited: they could fire their rockets to speed up, they could roll the ship and burn to slow down, or they could Jump. It would take time to set up the computer for that; Jumping blind might not mean certain death, it might merely mean being permanently lost in the vastness of the galaxy — or the galaxies! In hyper, all parts of the normal universe were equidistant.

Or they could roll the ship ninety degrees and turn aside.

Ariel didn’t consider it, and Derec didn’t even think of it. They had spent twenty percent of their fuel to acquire their current velocity. They would retain it no matter how much they pushed “sideways” on their course. It would therefore take another twenty percent of their fuel to turn the ship aside at an angle of a mere forty-five degrees — a negligible turn.

“Call for help?” Ariel asked dubiously.

“He’ll be on us in twenty minutes or less,” said Derec glumly. No help could possibly reach them.

“Unless he burns toward us.”

“Unlikely.”

“True.” His head wasn’t working right. The rapidly closing ship wouldn’t want more velocity toward them; it would have to brake down enough as it was, when it passed.

“I think we can assume that no Earth Patrol will fire on us without sufficient reason,” Ariel said. “So I propose that we talk to them as politely as possible, but maintain course and speed. We can burn if necessary, but —”

“You think it’s Earth Patrol?” Derec said, then nodded. “A Spacer wouldn’t shoot, either —”

“A Spacer would be calling us. Face it. Whoever this is, it’s an enemy,” Ariel said.

“We should have a good idea of our course and speed relative to Sol before he reaches near point,”

Derec said, nodding in agreement. “We can Jump any time after that now that you have the prob input.”

The enemy spaceship wasn’t going to ram, of course; its point of nearest approach was its “near point”

with their course, but the two ships would be farther apart — it would then be ahead of them.

“And we won’t provoke them,” Ariel finished.

“What with?” Derec asked, feeling lightheaded.

“You know what I mean.”

Then Derec had it: “We do have a weapon —”

“Comm!” she cried, at the breaking-crystal sound of the chime.

“I hope it’s not a Spacer ship,” she said, worried, as she opened the channel.

Both of them gasped at the face that appeared in trimensional projection above their board.

Chapter 15

ARANIMAS AGAIN

OH NO, ARIEL thought. Aranimas!

The alien pirate’s cold visage regarded them.

His face was vaguely human, but had definite overtones of lizard. The eyes, for instance, were widely set, almost on the sides of his face. They were barely close enough together to give him binocular vision — but, unnervingly, Aranimas didn’t much bother with binocular vision. Most of the time one eye focused on whatever he was looking at while the other roved, apparently supplying peripheral vision.

At the moment he was focusing on Derec with both eyes. “Derrrrec,” he said. High-pitched, trilling, his voice was the most hateful thing Ariel had ever heard. “Arrriel.”

Glaring at them, he altered the focus of his comm and shrank to distance without moving, his humanoid figure coming into view from the waist up. In this view much of his alienness wasn’t obvious, but they both had seen him in person. He was as tall seated as Derec was standing, and his disproportionately long arms had three times the span of a tall human’s. Thin body, thin neck, domed, thinly haired head, pale skin. Dark eyes, angry now.

“Wherrre is the Key to Perihelion? You escaped with it instead of leading me to robots.”

After a heart-stopping moment — Derec gulped, temporarily shocked out of his sickness — Ariel said, with only a faint tremor in her voice, “We lost it in the wreck. W-we’ve been in hospital on Earth —”

“You lie. I detected three bursts of Key static about this planet. The firrrst, weeks ago, began elsewhere.

The last two began and ended here. Only the Key broadcasts in this manner!”

They looked at each other sickly. Before they could speak, the pirate pulled a small, gleaming, gold pencil out of a pocket. Ariel choked, and she heard a gulp from Derec, too. A pain stimulator! It was, she knew, something like a human neuronic whip, but even more intense. Or perhaps Aranimas was just more violent with its use. It did no damage if not overused, like a neuronic whip, but no one was tough enough to take more than one “treatment” before deciding to cooperate.

“You will tell all, and tell trrrue, or I kill you slow with this.”

They did not doubt his sincerity. Nor would he listen to anything until he had taken the ship apart. They couldn’t just give him the Key, even if it could have been of use to him — it was initialized only for humans. He wanted robots, among other things — power most of all.

Derec reached over and cut the channel.

“We have another option,” he said, turning to her. “could use the Key, call agent Donovan, and put the whole problem in the laps of the TBI and whatever Spacer authorities are on Earth. Or we can try to deal with Aranimas ourselves.”

“Deal with him — how?” she said skeptically.

“I don’t mean bargain. Ariel, you should use the Key.” His plans were clearly hardening as he spoke. “I think I can ram that clumsy ship when he closes with us.”

Ariel felt herself pale. “No, Derec!”

“It’s the only way! We can’t let him live. He’s too dangerous —”

“But —” Her face cleared. “We can use the Key at the last instant.”

Derec looked at her. The burst of adrenaline that had washed away his illness was fading. She determined that she would not use the Key unless he did, and he seemed to realize that.

“Okay, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll pretend to surrender —”

He reached for the comm, but she grabbed his wrist. “No, Derec, it won’t work! He’ll never leave this ship maneuverable while he closes!”

“It’s the only chance we’ve got,” he said. “Our only weapon is the jet — and the nose of the ship! I’d like to fire the rocket at him, but he’d never pass in front of it.”

Ariel sighed, but she was unable to think of anything better.

“Okay. Go get the Key. I’ll fly the ship.”

Derec nodded in relief, clearly not up to it.

When they tuned back into the comm channel, Aranimas was howling in his nonhuman voice, so shrilly as to make her teeth ache.

“You will not brrreak communications again, humans! You —”

“Very well! We have conferred and agreed to accede to your demands,” she said. “We ask only that you guarantee our lives, or we’ll destroy the Key in front of your eyes.”

“You will not destroy the Key! I kill slow —”

“Not if we’re dead first,” said Derec, sounding tired and exasperated — the sound of a father dealing with wrangling children. “We want your promise.”

The alien fell silent and studied them for a cold-blooded moment. “Verry well. You have my promise I will not kill you if you give me the Key, undamaged.”

Ariel had a moment in which she wondered if the alien might keep that promise. But it didn’t matter; Derec was right. He had to die. She felt a momentary pang for the harmless and spiritless Narwe slaves with whom Aranimas manned his ship.

Derec pulled the Key out of his shirt and showed it to him. While Aranimas stared greedily at it, Ariel, at the controls, asked casually, “Shall we maneuver to match you?”

“No, I maneuver.”

There was a tense few minutes while the alien turned from them to his controls, rolled his ship, waited, waited, waited, then burned toward them. At the end of the burn the ship was not far away and still passing slowly. Again it rolled, now plainly visible: a vast, ungainly mass of half a dozen or more hulls stuck together. How Aranimas balanced that thing along a center of mass so he could fire rockets without spinning out of control, all without computer aid, Ariel couldn’t imagine.

He’s too close, she thought, panicky. They hadn’t time to get much velocity for the impact — or to set the Key! Even as she thought, she glanced at Derec, who started squeezing the corners of the Key. She slammed the rocket on, spinning the ship on its secondaries — the gyro, more economical of fuel, was much too slow.

Aranimas might be flying a clumsy conglomerate, but he was a skilled pilot — and it was a battlewagon. It had adequate sensors even aft, where the rockets were. The pirate spotted their maneuver and blasted aside, not bothering to scream at them over the comm channel.

Ariel looked over at Derec, slammed into her seat by the acceleration; the Key was ready, but they weren’t. The alien ship was above them, then beside them, even as she struggled to turn nose on toward it. Too late — Aranimas had slid aside.

Ariel instantly cut the jet and started to spin ship, not to get too far away — Aranimas’s gunners would have them in their sights the instant they cleared the near zone. Aranimas shrewdly slapped on more side thrust when he saw which way she was turning, in order to widen the gap between them.

Then the collision alarm rang.

They heard Aranimas yelling for the first time since the battle began. Ariel fought them onto a line with the alien ship, too busy to look about.

“The rock is moving!” Derec cried.

The chunk of rock that had swung in behind them and had gradually been overtaking them was now accelerating toward them at about a Standard gravity — and the bolo registered the temperature of rocket exhaust.

Wolruf’s face appeared beside the diminished figure of Aranimas on their board.

“Hold him, Derec! I come!”

What Aranimas said was not intelligible, but energy lanced from the big ship at the rock. The rock vaporized, its outline flashing away in puffs of incandescent vapor as the guns bore. Those same mighty weapons had vaporized cubic meters of ices and snow at near absolute zero on the ice asteroid where Aranimas had first found Derec.

Underneath the flimsy camouflage was a little Star Seeker like their own.

Ariel’s vision dimmed as she cut in the rockets’ full power. In a moment, she cut them off. Her head bobbed against the headrest, and the ship was again diving toward Aranimas. He rolled and blasted to avoid them, and something monstrous slapped their flank, making the ship ring.

“Puncture!” Derec gasped, but she had no time. She had to hold him till Wolruf got there —

Aranimas rolled his big ship again, and again blasted to avoid her, throwing off his gunners’ aim. Good job, he doesn’t have computerized fire control, Ariel thought.

She was confronted with a split-second tactical problem. In moments they’d be past the alien ship, too soon to roll nose-on toward it. Aranimas had seen their intent and was going the other way. So she rotated further in the direction the nose was pointed, to bring their tail toward the enemy.

At the critical moment she blasted, and fire splashed over Aranimas’s ship. It must have rung like a bell.

There was a great outrush of air and assorted particles. Ariel was grateful she couldn’t see well enough to tell if the particles were kicking.

In a flashing moment they were past, and the reflected flame glare died, and Aranimas was moving again, fire spurting from points on the ungainly hulls. Another kind of fire flashed, their own ship gonged when hit, jolted again, as Ariel’s head rattled against the headrest and alarms yelled; Derec was saying something as she spun the ship as rapidly as shaking hands would let her. Mistake! she thought. Should never have blasted away from him; now they were far enough away for the gunners to sight them.

Clenching her teeth, Ariel rolled the ship again, trying to ignore the hits, hoping one wouldn’t disable them — or kill them. A single stray bolt would

“We’re still in their near zone,” said Derec, breathlessly. “Glancing hits only —”

True. she thought, smiling mirthlessly — they were still alive!

And then they had completed their roll, much farther from Aranimas than she liked, and she blasted back. No more hits; the uneven outline of the alien ship grew and grew in their vision screens, and she breathed more evenly.

Then she had a moment of wonder: she felt better because she was not going to be killed by Aranimas’s gunners in the next few moments. But she was trying to commit suicide by ramming his ship!

Aranimas began to slide aside and she automatically corrected, centering on the dark bulk. What should she do?

“Wolruf is closing fast, but I don’t know if she’s still maneuverable,” said Derec tensely. “She got hit hard.”

“Give her a call?”

Then Aranimas’s ship loomed monstrous and the alien had arranged a surprise: a gun on the hull swung to bear on them. What prodigies of effort had gotten it ready in the short time the battle had taken, they would never know. It was a full-sized gun, though its first bolt was weak, an aiming shot.

Aranimas’s gunners were not the timid Narwe. They were starfish-shaped creatures about whom Ariel knew little; they avoided the light and breathed a slightly different atmosphere than the rest of the crew.

She felt no compunction about them, and spun the ship aside. Aranimas saw that and moved to prevent her from pointing her rockets at the new gun.

A second bolt flashed at them, but the gunners lacked Aranimas’s own savage efficiency.

“Another puncture, and our antenna’s out,” said Derec calmly.

His calmness calmed her, and she made one more attempt to ram. In turning away from her jet, Aranimas had run before their nose. She cracked on full power and they were hurled back into their seats. Her vision dimmed. She thought it was the power fading.

Too slow; the huge, bloated body of the enemy slid sideways even as it grew monstrous before them.

Then the vision screen erupted in one pale flare, pale because the safety circuit wouldn’t transmit the whole visual part of the flash: the sensor had taken the next hit from the gun.

“There went our bow!” Derec cried.

Ariel gulped, half expecting to see space before her, but they hadn’t lost that much of the bow. With the vision out, she could only crouch, panting, at her board, the rocket off, hoping for

“The Key — trigger it —” she cried, turning to him, knowing in a flashing moment that it was too late — they’d hit —

The ship jolted, and the impact was quite different from the gun hits. They were thrown forward against their straps, the ship shuddered, metal squealed, something broke — all in an instant — then they were free, the ship floating quietly.

Air hissed out, alarms still burring and shrilling. All communications out, no exterior view. Ariel touched her controls and the attitude jets responded; she could turn and burn again. But they were blind.

“Suits!” said Derec. “And see if the auto-circuit can give us more eyes.”

Suits first, she thought. When the air goes out of a small ship, it can go fast. Should have had them on all along, if they’d had time.

They scrambled into their suits in a free-fall comedy that was deadly serious. Every moment Ariel expected the lancing fire of a hit, but the ship continued serenely on its way.

They didn’t bother to try communications, knowing that the gun’s bolt, or the impact, must have destroyed the forward antennas. Vision, however, could be brought in from any quarter of the ship. Only the bow eyes were out. After a bit of fumbling, they found an undamaged sensor that bore toward their late battle.

“What … what is it?” Ariel asked, awed.

“I was about to ask you,” Derec said. “You know more about Aranimas’s ship, you were on it longer —”

“That was before my amnesia,” she said.

“Oh.”

“I think — one of the hulls, broken free?”

They had only a partial view of it — it was below the sensor’s view. Only a spinning, irregular curve of dark metal, with an occasional highlight gleaming, here and there a projection — derricks, turrets, landing ports, sensors — and interior beams?

“It can’t be the whole ship,” Derec said finally. “But what happened to it?”

Ariel took a deep breath, found the air inside her suit rank with her sweat. “I’ll turn around!” she said, chagrined. “I didn’t realize how tense I was.”

She wasn’t thinking. I’ll never be a combat pilot, she thought shakily. Wasted minutes looking into a view I could’ve adjusted — Or do pilots get used to this kind of thing?

But the human race had no combat pilots. No telling how well they could perform. Grimly, she thought, if there are many of Aranimas’s kind in space, we may have to learn.

“Aranimas — he disintegrated!” Derec said.

The big composite ship was now a dozen big pieces in a cloud of hundreds of smaller ones. They looked at each other. Derec’s face was as blank as she felt her own to be.

“Did we do that?” she asked.

“I don’t see how — Wolruf!”

After a moment she nodded. “You must be right. But where did she get the guns?”

Derec just shook his head.

If anybody was alive over there, they weren’t disposed to do any more shooting. The wreckage was retreating slowly. Ariel came to herself with a start.

“We’ve got to get back over there —”

“Frost, yes!”

But how?”

It wasn’t easy, but they worked it out. The view they had gave them bearings. They chose a spot that would enable them to miss any of the junk, and rotated the ship until its blind nose pointed along that bearing. Ariel then placed her hands on the board, looked into darkness, and thought, now we find out how good a pilot you are, girl.

In a moment she was back on Aurora, about to do her first solo takeoff. She had had that very thought, or something very close to it, and even more nervousness than now. Now, though, she was in shock. The memories went on and on, the takeoff, the acceleration seeming more fierce than ever now that she had to remain conscious, the relief as the jets shut down, and then the indescribable free, floating sensation of one’s first solo orbit.

“Ariel?”

Her instructor —

“Ariel?”

With a shake, she brought herself out of it. “Sorry. Memory fugue.” As her hands moved over the board — taking care to push the buttons on the real board instead of the remembered one — the memories went on, flashed back, picked up details; A whole chunk of her past restored to her by a chance thought, a chance repetition of forgotten circumstance.

She burned for ten seconds and rolled the ship to study the junk. There should be detectors back there that would tell them how fast they were moving relative to the junk, but they weren’t working. The junk still seemed to be receding. Ariel rolled and blasted for another twenty seconds, again looked.

“That should do it.”

They had only to wait, floating toward the wrecked ship aft-end first, ready to burn to brake down.

“How did she do it?”

Chapter 16

WOLRUF AGAIN

“IT’S HOPELESS;’ SAID Derec.

Mandelbrot was trying to patch their hull.

“It’s got to work,” Ariel said, biting her lip behind her helmet … Otherwise, Wolruf —”

The other Star Seeker had been hit harder than their own and was scarcely maneuverable. Mandelbrot, using rockets welded onto his body and a line gun, had brought them close together, with Ariel doing most of the maneuvering. There was very little air in either ship — and there was no spacesuit for the caninoid alien.

“We’ve been stressed too severely. The best we can do is temporary patching.” Derec tried to rub his head, and his hand encountered his helmet for the fifteenth time. Frustrated, he let it drop.

“If it holds long enough to Jump out of here —” she said.

Derec shook his head. “Four Jumps to Robot City — five for safety,” he said … That’s days of work checking courses and calculating. I wouldn’t want my life to depend on that kind of patching. And we’ll be maneuvering. That’ll strain the patches even more.”

“Something’s got to be done! Maybe Aranimas’s ship —”

Jumping at straws, and she knew it. “Even Wolruf doesn’t really know how to fly it — assuming any of us had the arm reach for that control board. No computer aid, Ariel!”

She nodded soberly … I know. It’s not possible; it’s these ships or nothing.”

“Maybe there’s air or food over there. We could use both.”

They looked at each other somberly. It was not a pleasant position.

On a wrecked ship, barely maneuverable, with most of its instrumentation out, leaking like a proverbial sieve, on a trajectory that would take it somewhere near Procyon in a few million years, short on air, water, and food, with a friend on another, worse ship, sealed into a single room.

“Join the Space Service and see the stars,” Derec said, forcing a grin.

Ariel grinned back, just as wanly.

The alien ship was all around them, and some of the pieces definitely had once been living. Derec, feeling none too good to start, avoided looking at them, though they were at such a distance that details were lost. His imagination supplied them. Many were Narwe, but there was a goodly number of the starfish-shaped dwellers-in-darkness he had glimpsed in his brief time aboard the ship.

“I’m amazed they aren’t trying something,” he said again. They’d both been saying that for nearly an hour.

“Derec … I think they’re all gone.”

It could be. But —” Dead?” he asked.

Many were. Ariel shook her head, though. “I don’t think so. I think they must have Jumped out at the height of the battle.”

Leaning forward, Derec eagerly scanned such of the surroundings as were visible, trying to count the hulls. It was no use. “I don’t know how many hulls there were, and they all look different now. The central one, I suppose, had the hyperatomic motors. Maybe some of the other hulls did, too. I don’t think there’s more than one hull missing, though.”

“You agree, then?” she asked, worried.

“I agree,” he said. “Knowing Aranimas, if he were alive and here, he’d be shooting at us. With something.”

“Yes.” She was silent for a moment. “It’s not likely that all that damage could have been done by Mandelbrot.”

Wolruf had dropped the robot off when she had braked sufficiently to bring the relative motion of the ships down to a level Mandelbrot’s rockets could handle. The robot had made a landing on the alien ship, damaging one knee joint, and then had swarmed allover it, planting explosive charges at the joins of the hulls. The mighty ship had simply broken up.

“We already know that there were explosive charges at the hull connections,” Derec said. Aranimas had dropped one of his hulls to make his escape at Rockliffe Station.

“Yes. He must have blown them all, got his central hull free, and Jumped.”

“If he Jumped blind, he could be anywhere in the universe,” Derec said. “Let’s hope he never finds his way back!”

It wasn’t something they could count on.

Half an hour later, Mandelbrot called them on the radio and suggested that they go lock-to-lock with Wolruf’s ship. Presently, Ariel brought them together, Mandelbrot guiding them, and the open airlocks grated together. They were compatible, and with a little nudging clanked into position.

“This join will not hold air long,” observed the robot. “We must charge it, and Wolruf must move fast, despite the bag.”

They had been pumping their leaking air into bottles, to save at least some of it. Derec took one of the bottles to the lock, shoved its bayonet fitting into the lock’s emergency valve, and opened the bottle.

Presently Wolruf banged on the inner door, the outer door clanking shut behind her. Derec let the air continue to hiss to equalize pressure — but the bottle went empty first.

Muttering, he jerked it out of the emergency valve, which closed automatically, and turned to the manual spill valve. It took a good grip to hold that open, but after a moment pressure was equal and they hadn’t lost much of their precious air.

Wolruf entered in a transparent plastic balloon, now half deflated under cabin pressure. She looked a little short of breath — or scared; Derec certainly couldn’t blame her. Itcould not have been easy to flounder in free-fall, inside that balloon, through the other ship and the twinned locks.

The little caninoid emerged from the release zipper with a shake, saying, “Thank ‘ou. It wass a nervous time. I ‘ave grreat fearr of the Erani.”

“We think Aranimas is gone,” said Ariel.

“I ‘ope so, but I do not understand.”

Ariel explained tersely.

“He would sshoot, if he could,” Wolruf agreed.

Mandelbrot’s voice came over the radio. “I will enter the other ship and bring forth what items I can,” he said. “You will need more organic feedstock for the food synthesizers, and of course air. Perhaps it would be wise to explore the alien ship also.”

That was a thought. It made Derec more than a little nervous, and he could see that Ariel wasn’t much happier.

“That wreckage is grinding around a good bit. Still, the bigger pieces are getting farther and farther away from each other,” she said. “It should be safe — as things go.”

“That apartment back on Earth looks more and more cozy every minute,” said Derec with a weak laugh.

“I sstay behind and fly ship,” said Wolruf. “I glad to do thiss; do not thank me!”

Laughing crazily, they floundered into their suits and crowded into the airlock with Wolruf’s plastic bag.

Normally it was used to convey perishable items across vacuum. Now they pumped it up to half cabin pressure, pushed it up against the inner door of the lock, and started the lock pumps. As soon as lock pressure fell below half cabin pressure, the bag began to push them against the outer door.

Their suits braced them against the push, and the expansion of the balloon speeded the removal of the air outside of the bag from the lock. When the outer door was opened they were shoved out — Ariel just quick enough to grab a handhold on the door, Derec grabbing her foot. Laughing again, they shoved the balloon back inside and slammed the lock.

Their first item was to transfer the undamaged antennas of Wolruf’s ship to their own, and to replace the burnt-out or smashed eyes. The two ships floated near to each other, linked by the light, strong line.

Derec had brought tools, and also made a stop-gap repair on Mandelbrot’s knee. An hour of work saw that completed, while the pieces of the alien ship got farther and farther away.

They squeezed back inside the ship to rest, recharge their air, and eat. Ariel said tiredly, “How did you come to be here — near Earth — Wolruf?”

The caninoid snapped hungrily at synthetic cabbage. “When ‘ou Jump with Key, I hear static hyperwave. I hear two burrsts static, and I get fix on one. I expect it to be Robot City, but iss not. We know coordinatess of Robot City. It a long way away, but Mandelbrrot and I Jump to follow.

Dangerouss, one long Jump. But we darrre not make more, orr we lose bearings. Sso one Jump all we take.”

She paused to gulp more food. They were used to her table manners.

“When we arrive at Earth, Mandelbrot make identification. He lissten to broadcasst — hyperwave still not worrking — and tell me, iss Earth, and explain Earth. We do not have to wonderr for long if thiss where ‘ou went with Key. I hear two more burrstss static, close together, same place: Earth. I not know how ‘ou use Key so close together.”

“Simple,” said Derec. He was tired and his head felt unduly light, even more than free-fall would explain.

“The Key was focused on that apartment. Using it to leave anyplace else, even on the same planet, takes you back to the apartment. We won’t starve — if necessary we can always go back to Number 21, Sub-Corridor 16, Corridor M, Sub Section a, Section 5, of Webster Groves, in St. Louis City.”

“Anyway, we wait. After a while, though, we detect hyperwave burrst of Aranimas’s sship arriving, and we know therre will be trrouble. He also had detected Key use.”

“How long has he known how to do that?” Ariel asked.

Wolruf shrugged. “Possible he always knew. Aranimass not one for saying all he know. Or more likely he learrned since we left him at Rockliffe Station. Is obviouss when ‘ou think about it.”

“How so?” Ariel asked sharply.

“Obviouss, Key must be hyperatomic motor,” said Wolruf, and Derec interrupted.

“I don’t think so. The robots of Robot City learned to duplicate them — they may even have made the Key we have. I don’t think humans or their robots could duplicate any such radical advance in science and technology as would be represented by the reduction of a hyperatomic motor to pocket size. I think the Keys are very compact hyperwave radios. These subetherics trigger the hyperatomic motors, which are elsewhere, and focused on the Keys.’.’

“Ah, ‘ou think motors are in Perihelion?”

Wolruf was a starship pilot too, and knew the theory of hyperatomics. “Probably,” said Derec.

The caninoid made a sound of interest, paused to eat more, and resumed her tale after pondering Derec’s conclusion. “Anyway, we sat therre waiting, and Aranimas sat there waiting. We expected ‘ou to use the Key and escape. Aranimas musst have been chewing nails and sspitting rivets. He could not know what wass going on, and Earth too big even for reckless one like him to attack.”

“How did you know we were us?” Ariel asked, and Derec, head throbbing, tried to follow the logic of her sentence.

“When ‘ou used ‘our hyperwave radio, he musst have known. Aranimas bum to intercept, and we follow him. We fortunate to be closerr by half a solar orbit, get in firrst. Aranimas not sstop to think how lucky he be to have crock to hide behind, going just his way almost as fasst as he. Only mistake he evecr make.”

Derec hoped it would be his last.

“What did you do to his ship, though?” Ariel asked, exasperated.

“Blow up. All time we waiting in orrbit, we were making explosivess. Carbonite recipe in Dr. Avery ship data bank. I know enough chemistry to add oxidizer. Had to use food synthesizerr feedstock, but only one of me to feed, and I ssmall.”

The robots had no doubt needed carbonite for the building of Robot City. Derec knew generally how it was made: it was a super form of black powder, using activated charcoal saturated with potassium nitrate or sodium nitrate. Since the carbon was nearly all burned up — it approached one hundred percent efficiency and was therefore nearly smokeless-carbonite was about ten times as powerful as TNT.

“Even so, it would not worrk if Aranimass had not panicked and Jumped. But he could not know what wass happening.”

Derec nodded, immediately wished he hadn’t; the room seemed to spin. “His panic is understandable,”

he said.

“Are’ ou all right?” Wolruff asked.

“No, but I’m not getting worse. I mean, I’m feeling no worse than before the battle.”

Ariel broke in to explain about the chemfets, and Wolruf was concerned but unable to help. She knew nothing of robots, nor did any race she knew of, save humans.

“I hope ‘ou will be well,” she said, but clearly had her doubts. She seemed shaken by the idea of this invasion.

Derec thought of it as a disease, and at least had the hope that the chemfets were programmed with the Three Laws.

“Shall we go?” he asked. He turned and found Mandelbrot looking at him.

“What do you intend to do about this infestation?” the robot asked.

“Go to Robot City and either turn the problem over to the Human Medical Team or seize Dr. Avery and force him to reverse it — or both,” said Ariel.

“I see. I can think of nothing better, for I do not believe that the medical and/or robotic resources of Aurora or the other Spacer worlds would be adequate to the task of eradication of chemfets,”

Mandelbrot said. “That then must remain purely as a final resort.”

“Rright,” said Wolruf. “We go find Dr. Avery. He worrse than Aranimass!”

The next step was to explore the alien ship. They cast off from Wolruf’s Star Seeker and jetted lightly toward one of the larger, more intact hulls. They carried clubs, and Ariel a knife from the galley, but they found it airless and had little fear of survivors. There were none, as it turned out. Nor were there all that many bodies.

“Aranimas musst have sounded the recall and called them to the main hull,” Wolruf said. “They would be valuable to him, of courrse.”

Still, a good number of innocent Narwe — and not-so-innocent starfish folk — had died in the battle. They found nothing of immediate use in the first two hulls, and became depressed.

“We must have air, if nothing else,” Mandelbrot said. “And we should also find organic feedstock for the synthesizers. It is, you tell me, five Jumps to Robot City. It will take at least three weeks, and then there is the final approach, and a reserve against emergencies. This hull will not hold air for three days. It can be patched up more, but probably not enough to hold air for more than a week. We will need four complements of air, and even so, I must spend every moment patching till the Jump.”

“You’ll be patching after every Jump,” Derec said grimly.

Mandelbrot was right. They returned to the search, though the hulls were getting far apart now.

The next hull had been one occupied by the starfish folk, and they immediately gave up hope of finding air here; the strange aliens breathed a mix containing a sulfur compound that Wolruf called “yellow-gas.”

On the way out, though, they found a robot.

At Ariel’s cry, Derec shook his head and took a deep breath. The robot, when he came into the open chamber where she was, seemed a breath of sanity in unreality: the shot-up spaceship, in free-fall and airless, was like an Escher print of an upside down world. The body of one of the starfish folk was stuck to one wall, a vicious-looking energy piston in one tentacled grip. Ariel and the robot were spinning slowly in the vacuum, drifting toward a bulkhead. She had leaped to seize it.

“It’s dysfunctional,” she said.

Timing his moves with hers, he intercepted them at the bulkhead and they turned their lights on it. It made no move, but whether it was speaking or not, they could not tell.

Mandelbrot entered while they were examining the robot’s body. “Energy scoring on the head, and fuse marks here and there, mostly on the body. It looks like the starfish over there shot it up during the battle.

“How did it come to be in the ship?” Ariel asked.

“Hmm. I suppose Aranimas must have come upon it somewhere and captured it,” said Derec.

“Where could he have found it?”

Derec considered. “Possibly it’s one he found at the ice asteroid. But I doubt it. He was desperate for me to make him a robot. He’d have given me all the parts he had.”

Mandelbrot fixed his cold eyes on the damaged robot. “This is a robot from Robot City.”

“Yes.” The design style was unmistakable to the trained eye.

“Let’s get it into air; maybe it’s trying to speak,” said Ariel.

But back in the Star Seeker it lay as inert as before. Removing his spacesuit, Derec got out the toolkit and looked at Mandelbrot. The prospect of work on the robot made him feel better than he had in days.

A matter of interest. They quickly learned that power to the brain was off. Reenergizing it, though, did no good.

“A near-miss from an energy beam might well cause brain burn-out without visibly damaging the brain,”

said Mandelbrot.

The positronic brain was a platinum-iridium sponge, with a high refractivity; it wouldn’t melt easily. But the positronic paths through it were not so resistant.

“So we can learn nothing from questioning it,” Derec said, dejected. “Wait a minute. What’s this?”

Clutched tightly in its fist was a shiny object. A shiny rectangular object.

“A Key to Perihelion,” said Mandelbrot expressionlessly.”

Aranimas would have taken it away from the robot if he’d known it had one,” said Ariel. “I wonder what the robot was doing with it?”

“We’ll never know. Maybe it took the first moment it wasn’t under observation to try use the Key. And the starfish caught it in the act.” Derec gripped the Key and pulled it out of the fist. Instantly he knew it was different.

“It feels like two Keys built together!”

“It is,” said Mandelbrot, peering at it. “One, I suppose, to take the robot from Robot City. One to return him to Robot City.”

“Which is which?” Ariel asked.

Derec and Mandelbrot spent a few minutes determining that. They found that one Key had a cable plug in one end.

“I see,” Ariel said, when they showed her. “A tiny cable, with five tiny prongs. It must be for reprogramming. I don’t know what would plug into it —”

“Something like a calculator,” said Derec, “to enable one to input the coordinates of the destination.”

The other Key had no provision for changing its programming, and was therefore set permanently on Robot City.

“Not that it does us any good,” said Ariel wistfully. “It’s initialized for a robot. Too bad; we desperately need to get to Robot City, especially Derec. And only Mandelbrot can get there.”

“That is true; Derec must go to Robot City soon, and the Key is better than three weeks in a ship, even if the ship did not leak,” said Mandelbrot. “I will take you there, Derec.” He wrapped his normal arm around Derec, half carrying him.

“What about us?” Ariel cried. “This ship is no safer for Wolruf and me.”

Mandelbrot’s mutable Avery-designed arm was already stretching into a long tentacle. “That is correct — it is very likely that you and Wolruf will die if you do not accompany us,” he said. “Therefore, I shall have to take you all.”

The tentacle coiled about Ariel and Wolruf and splayed out into a small hand at the end. “The Key, if you please, Derec.”

Derec placed the doubled Key in the small hand. “At least Dr. Avery won’t be expecting us,” he said.

“He find out soon ‘nough,” said Wolruf.

Mandelbrot extruded another finger from the hand that held the Key to Perihelion. It rose up and pressed, in sequence, the corners of the Key, and waited for the activating button to appear. Knowing it was irrational, Derec felt the air get staler in the tiny pace of time it took. Then, Perihelion.

And then a planetary sky burst blue and brilliant above them. They were breathing deeply, standing atop the Compass Tower — the mighty pyramid that reared over Dr. Avery’s Robot City.

Perihelion

3604 A.D.

Chapter 1

THE COMPASS TOWER

DEREC STOOD ON the high, flat top of the Compass Tower, looking down from the great pyramid at the endless geometric wonders of Robot City beneath its blue and brilliant sky. Ariel leaned against him, still clutching his arm in both hands. Mandelbrot the robot and Wolruf, the little caninoid sentient alien, waited behind them.

“It’s changed so much,” Derec said quietly. They had just teleported back to the planet by using their double Key to Perihelion. Mandelbrot had carried them all here. “Keep the Key. It’ll be safest with you.”

“Yes, Derec,” said Mandelbrot.

Derec turned around to gaze in the other direction. The sight was the same: the lights and shapes of Robot City, stretching to a skyline barely limned by the reflected sunlight against the blue horizon. He could not escape it in any direction. His destiny seemed to be here.

“What’s changed?” Ariel asked. Her voice was meek. She had not recovered from her ordeal on Earth.

A critical illness had reached fullness there, destroying her memories and her entire identity with them.

They had not been there by choice, but fortunately he had been able to place a new matrix of chemical memories into her mind. They were to grow on the residue of her old memory, but they were still developing. She had not had time to get used to them, to integrate them, to understand who she was.

Derec squinted into the warm breeze that blew up the front face of the pyramid. It tossed his sandy hair.

Once brush cut, it had grown out to a golden shag. “They’ve done it. The robots have built the city out in all directions. It could cover the entire planet by now.”

“So it didn’t before.” She nodded, as if to herself, looking all around as he was.

“No. Still, we aren’t exactly strangers here. We know how to get along. And if we’re lucky, we can get this trip over with and leave again before long.” Derec turned to Mandelbrot. “We have to find some shelter before we’re noticed. Can you still use your comlink to reach the city computer?”

“I will try.” Mandelbrot hesitated a few seconds, quite a long time for a robot. “Yes. The city computer has changed the frequency it uses, but I have identified the new one by the simple expedient of starting with the original and sending a variety of signals that run up and down the entire range of —.”

“Fine, excellent, thank you.” Derec grinned at his enthusiasm, gesturing with his hands palm forward.

“Believe me, I trust your competence. My next question is this: When Ariel and I first came to Robot City, I found an office in this pyramid, down below. It had been recently occupied. I think we can find Dr. Avery there, but we have to be careful. Can you find out from the city computer if the office is still in use?”

“I will try.” Mandelbrot then shook his head. “The computer will not reveal any information about the office. It will not even confirm that the office still exists.”

“All right. “Derec sighed.

“What if it’s gone?” Ariel asked.

“I’d be very surprised,” said Derec. “Avery just didn’t want his private office on file anywhere. We’ll have to take our chances and just go right in if we can.”

Ariel held her hair out of her face. “Just go in? How?”

“The ceiling of the office had a trapdoor that opened right up into this platform we’re on.” He got down on his hands and knees. “Come on, let’s find it.”

“Derec.” Ariel’s voice was a little stronger, showing some of her old spirit. “You’ve been growing weaker because of those... things Dr. Avery forced into your body. Just be careful, will you?”

“Can you find it?” he demanded irritably. “You’re not in the best condition of your life, either.”

“Well, I’m not sick anymore!” She folded her arms. “I’m well now, at least physically.” She watched him for a moment. Then, as if to prove the point, she knelt down and started feeling around the surface of the platform herself.

“You don’t even remember being here before, do you?” Derec asked accusingly. The tension was making him irritable.

“Do you?”

“Yes!”

“Well... you haven’t known who you are for the entire time I’ve known you. You’ve had amnesia since....” She shook her head, shaking off the thought. “I may not have adjusted to everything, but at least I have something.” Then she hesitated, searching his face. “I didn’t mean to say that. Not out loud, anyway. Did I get that right? Or did I remember wrong?”

Derec shook his head shortly and turned away. “That’s right.” She had even phrased it much the same way on earlier occasions. He shifted around on his knees, feeling for an irregularity in the smooth surface.

“Mandelbrot, can you see anything?”

“Here,” said Mandelbrot, walking to a far corner of the platform. “My vision has identified a small square outline that likely represents the opening.”

“Good.” Derec walked over to Mandelbrot and knelt at the robot’s feet. He slid his hands along the sides of a rectangular hairline break in the platform floor until he felt a small depression in the surface, no larger than a thumbhold. He braced himself and started to slide it to one side.

“Allow me,” said Mandelbrot.

“No, I got it —” Derec stopped, as the robot gently grasped his forearm and pulled it away. He turned to look up. “Mandelbrot, what are you doing?”

“How much have the chemfets in your body weakened you?” Mandelbrot asked.

“Not that much! Now let’s quit talking and get down there. Avery put ’em in me and he’s the only one who can get ’em out. Come on!” Derec pulled away from the robot again.

“Derec?” Ariel said tentatively.

“Mandelbrot,” said Derec, “carry Wolruf and come down last. Help Ariel over the —”

“I cannot. I must open it and go first.”

“What?”

“The First Law of Robotics,” said Mandelbrot mildly. “I can’t harm a human or let one come to harm —”

“I know!” Derec shouted angrily. “Don’t you lecture me on the Laws. I put you together, remember? I know those Laws inside out, outside in, upside down —”

“I said it for Ariel’s benefit,” said Mandelbrot. “Perhaps her memory of the Laws is not clear.”

“I remember that one.” Ariel looked embarrassed by the confrontation. “Uh — is the Second Law the one that says a robot must obey orders from a human?”

“Yes, unless the orders conflict with the First Law.” Mandelbrot nodded.

“Then the Third Law must be the one that says a robot can’t let itself come to harm or harm itself.”

“As long as this doesn’t conflict with the First or Second Laws,” Mandelbrot finished. “Correct.”

Ariel smiled faintly.

“Let’s get going,” said Derec impatiently. He reached for the thumbhold again, though he did not expect Mandelbrot to let him open the door now, either.

“I will determine this situation,” said Mandelbrot firmly. “With all due respect, the Laws require it.”

“How do you figure that?” Derec demanded.

“Your motor control of your own body is gradually failing because of the chemfets in your body. Ariel is disoriented because of her memory transfer, and Wolruf’s body is unsuited to climbing down at this steep angle. We are about to enter the office and possible temporary residence of your nemesis. The likelihood of harm to you is high; therefore, I shall go first.”

Derec glared at him, unable to argue with his robotic logic.

Wolruf looked up at him, cocking her doglike face to one side. “Arr ‘u going to carry me down?”

“I will enter alone, first,” said Mandelbrot. “Derec’s knowledge of Robot City makes him the best able to handle unexpected developments, so he will follow me if the room offers no danger. I will carry you down if we all go.”

Wolruf nodded assent.

Derec watched Mandelbrot in the faint light. The robot hesitated just a moment, probably looking with infrared sensors and listening for signs of habitation or danger within. Then he bent down and slid the trapdoor open slightly. After another pause, he opened the trap fully and climbed down a metal ladder inside the door.

Derec waited, hardly daring to breathe. Avery could easily have a trap waiting for them. Wolruf moved to his side. Ariel stood quietly, but seemed relaxed, as though she did not understand the gravity of the situation.

After what seemed like a long time, a light came on in the room, throwing a cone of light upward.

Mandelbrot called up softly. “It is here and unoccupied, apparently safe for everyone.”

Derec let out a breath of relief and took Ariel’s arm. “You go next. Never mind what he said about me handling the unexpected; he can protect you better if anything happens. And he’ll help you if you have trouble with the ladder.”

“All right.” Ariel started climbing down carefully.

Wolruf came to the edge of the opening and peeked down cautiously, being careful not to get in the way.

Derec took the time to move with similar caution to the edge of the Compass Tower. So far, he could see no changes down below that indicated an alert.

Wolruf went next. Then Derec started down, hoping his hands and feet would obey him. He descended slowly into the room, holding the ladder tightly. When he was fully inside, he slid the door shut over his head.

The ladder was firm and not difficult to negotiate. Just before he reached the floor, however, the muscles of his right leg failed to respond. His foot slipped off the bottom rung and he stumbled back into the arms of Mandelbrot.

Derec pulled himself away, glaring at the others, who were all watching him. “I just slipped, all right?”

None of them answered.

“Come on, come on. Let’s find out what we can.” Derec moved past Mandelbrot to pace around the office, looking around.

At first glance, it was just as he remembered. The only other time he had been here, Ariel had remained inside only a moment or two, so she would have few memories of the interior even at her best. The other two had never been here at all.

The walls and the ceiling were entirely viewscreens, displaying a panoramic view of Robot City at night on all sides. It was nearly identical to the view Derec had seen from the platform just above the room.

The buildings of Robot City sparkled in all directions as far as he could see. In the ceiling, they could see the blue sky still above them.

The office was furnished with real furniture, all brought from another planet; easy chairs, couch-bed, and an iron-alloy desk, instead of the simple utilitarian furniture made in Robot City. A blotter with paper and two zero-g ink pens were on the desk. As before, a small, airtight shelf full of tapes was intact. They were separated by subject and then by planet, as he recalled, representing all fifty-five Spacer worlds. If anyone had used them, they had all been replaced in order. Nothing seemed changed since his last visit until he turned and saw the plant.

Before, an unfamiliar plant had been flourishing under a growth light. The light was still in place, but the plant beneath it lay limp and dried in its pot. Its stalks were lavender, but he had no idea if that was a sign of recent desiccation or its normal color in death. He crumpled a dead leaf thoughtfully in one hand.

“Someone just let it die,” said Ariel, joining him.

“I don’t think anyone’s been here,” said Derec. “Mandelbrot, Wolruf — does anyone see any sign of recent habitation here?”

Ariel looked around the room, and then down into a small waste basket. “This is empty.”

“Someone has been here since I was here last, then,” said Derec. “But that was a long time ago.” He turned back to the desk with a sudden memory. Before, a holo cube with a picture of a mother and baby had been on it. The cube was gone.

“Maybe rrobot emptied mash,” said Wolruf.

“No.” Derec shook his head. “The first time I was here, Ariel and I were led here from the meeting room of the Supervisors. We had entered the Compass Tower from the ground below. But we came the last part of the trip alone. Robots aren’t even allowed near this office. I doubt that they have any idea what this room is. Entry would obviously be forbidden.”

“Then except for Dr. Avery himself,” said Ariel, “this is an ideal hiding place.”

“If we can find a source of food for you three,” said Mandelbrot. “Also, efforts to locate Dr. Avery will involve inherent risk.”

“Let me check something.” Derec moved to the desk and opened the big well drawer on the right. An active computer terminal was still housed within it. “Ah! This terminal has no blocks of any kind. It’s where I first learned the causes behind the shapechanging mode of the city.” He sat down at the desk and entered the question, “Does this office have any sensors reporting to the outside?”

“NEGATIVE.”

“Order: Do not leave any record of activity on this terminal in the city computer.”

“AFFIRMED.”

“Is there a source of human food available in this room?”

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

“Where is it?”

“THE CONTROL PANEL SLIDES OUT FROM THE UNDERSIDE OF THE DESK SURFACE WHERE IT OVERHANGS THIS DRAWER.”

“Is there a Personal facility?”

“YES.”

“Where is it?”

“THE DOOR IS SET INTO THE VIEWSCREEN BEHIND THE LADDER. IT IS GOVERNED BY THE DESK CONTROL PANEL ALSO.”

Derec felt under the overhanging edge of the desk and slid out a wafer-thin panel with raised studs. He pushed the one marked “Mealtime” and turned around at a faint hum from the wall. Near the ladder, a rectangular panel had moved out of the view screen on the wall to reveal the receptacle of a small chemical processor. On the front of the drawer, the panel still showed its share of the outside view of Robot City.

He let out a long breath, and grinned at Ariel. “If it works, this buys us some time. If the tank has no raw nutrients, it can’t help us at all. I’ll try it.”

“No, let me.” Ariel moved to the control panel quickly. “I can test my memory with stuff like this. Let’s see....” She punched a sequence of keys, paused to think, and hit another series.

“Okay,” said Derec. “What’s it going to be?”

“I’m not telling. I want to see if you can recognize it.” She smiled impishly, but with a bit of worry, too.

Derec punched another button on the control panel, and watched a narrow door slide open in the viewscreen, next to the chemical processor. It was a very small Personal, as clean and tidy as the rest of the office. He closed the door again.

A few moments later, a small container slid into the food receptacle. Derec inhaled the aroma. “Ha!

Magellanic frettage again? Not bad.” He touched the container carefully. “And hot, too. Smells good.”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Good job.”

Ariel smiled, wiping perspiration off her forehead with the back of one hand

“‘Ungrry, too, please,” said Wolruf politely. “Of course. Coming up next,” said Ariel.

Derec was starting to lift the dish out of the receptacle when he saw Ariel blink quickly, repeatedly, and stagger backward. She fell, and Mandelbrot moved behind her just in time to catch her and lift her gently from the floor. He turned and laid her carefully on the couch.

Chapter 2

MEMORIES AND CHEMFETS

DEREC MOVED QUICKLY to her side and knelt down. “Ariel?” he said softly.

She was breathing in quick, shallow breaths and perspiring freely. Her eyes were closed.

“Mandelbrot?” Derec said quietly. “Have you got any idea what’s wrong with her?”

“No, Derec. My human medical knowledge is very limited.”

“Maybe iss jusst tirred,” Wolruf said softly. “Hass been verry sick. Needs resst.”

“I hope so,” said Derec. He felt a deep sense of panic. The ordeal she had undergone on Earth had been extremely draining, and their landing back here must have caused her more stress than he had realized. “Up till now, she was acting almost normal.”

Wolruf came to stand next to Derec. She looked at Ariel’s face. “Suggesst ‘u brring food.”

“Mandelbrot,” said Derec.

The robot brought over the container of Megallanic frettage and handed it to Derec. Eating utensils were attached to the side of the container. He simply held it, letting the aroma rise into the air near her.

Nothing happened.

“Maybe this isn’t what she needs. She isn’t responding at all.” He glanced at the others questioningly.

“Water?” Wolruf suggested.

“Must find the stranger,” Ariel muttered. Her eyes were still closed, but she tossed restlessly.

“What?” Derec asked gently. “What stranger?”

“Draw him to us. aotta be hungry by now.” She squirmed, the sweat on her face shining in the light of the room. “Have to make it better. Have to make him like it. Has to smell right.” She threw her head from side to side.

“Who?” Derec insisted. “Avery? We’ll find him. Do you mean Dr. Avery?” Then he realized that she might be dreaming about Jeff Leong, the marooned stranger who had been turned into a cyborg when they were here before. Derec and his companions had helped capture him when the transformation had adversely affected Leong’s mind, and had aided the robot in restoring him to human form. They had sent him off the planet in a craft one of them could have used.

“Iss not hearing ‘u,” said Wolruf. “Verry ssick.” Derec stood up and set the container of food on the desk, still watching her. She stopped talking, but her legs were moving slightly. He had seen people move like that when they were dreaming. “I guess we’ll have to let her sleep. Maybe that’s all she needs. I think I could use some rest, myself.

“That couch can be unfolded into a bed,” Derec observed. “Whatever is wrong with Ariel is in her mind and memory, not her body. She won’t be harmed if you will lift her for a moment.”

Mandelbrot bent down and gently lifted Ariel in his robot arms as though she was a baby. Derec fumbled for a moment with the couch, then succeeded in pulling on a single strap that unfolded it to full size. It was a simple, non-powered device that was popular among frequent travelers because it did not force the owner to match power sources or worry about complicated repairs

“All right,” said Derec.

Mandelbrot laid her down just as carefully as before. Derec sat down beside her to loosen her clothing.

She was lying quietly now, as though she was sleeping.

“I am aware,” said Mandelbrot, “that a potential First Law conflict may be developing.”

“What is it?” Derec asked. This did not seem like the time to hassle over the Laws of Robotics.

“I recall from our presence here before that Robot City possesses a very high level of human medical skill and technology. The First Law may demand that I put Ariel in contact with the robot called Human Medical Research 1, lest I allow her to come to harm through my inaction.” He trained his photosensors squarely on Derec.

“But you can’t! We don’t dare, at least not right away!” Derec jumped up and paced behind the desk.

“They’re almost certain to alert Dr. Avery, and then r II be harmed through your action. And so will she, probably. The guy has to be crazy.”

“I know,” Mandelbrot said ruefully. “I also feel a resonance from the First Law dilemma I faced in certain events before our recent return here. I welcome suggestions that will avoid this contradiction.”

Derec stared at him. “Suggestions? Hell, I don’t know.” He ran both hands through his hair and closed his eyes. “Look, I’m tired, too. Suppose you stay in an alert mode, monitoring the city computer, while the rest of us get some sleep.”

“As you wish,” said Mandelbrot. “I will also turn out the light when you are ready.”

Wolruf was already settling comfortably into one of the chairs. Derec sat softly next to Ariel, trying not to disturb her, and pulled off his boots. Moments later, he was stretched out in the sunlight, surrounded visually by the strange beauty of Robot City. He felt strangely naked without visible, opaque walls around him, despite the secrecy of this room and the efficiency of Mandelbrot, who was a match for any other robot they might encounter.

“Mandelbrot,” said Derec.

“Yes.”

“See if you can figure out how to turn off these viewscreens. That sunlight is bright, and we don’t exactly have curtains in here.”

“Yes, Derec.”

Derec was certain, the more he thought about it, that they would be safe here. One of the few certainties about the mad genius named Dr. Avery was that he was truly paranoid, and possibly becoming more so as time passed. He surely knew that Derec had been in this office once before, and he obviously knew that he had been in Avery’s laboratory. A true paranoid would not continue to use either one after his “opponent” had learned their locations.

His body was tired, more tired than it should have been. He hated to admit it to himself, but his time to find Dr. Avery was quickly growing shorter. Worst of all, he might reach the point where he could think clearly but would be unable to carry out any plans. As sleep approached, his mind went to his basic problem: the chemfets in his body.

Dr. Avery had captured him when they had been on Robot City before. At that time, however, Ariel’s illness had been entering a critical phase. Derec had escaped and fled from Robot City, hoping to find a cure for her disease. They had wound up on Earth. Only then had he realized what Dr. Avery had done to him in the laboratory while he had been a prisoner.

The chemfets were microscopic circuit boards with biosensors that interfaced his body. These tiny circuit boards were capable of preprogrammed growth and replication, and apparently Dr. Avery had programmed them. He had also planted a monitor in Derec’s brain that told him what they were and what was happening now: a tiny Robot City was growing inside his body.

Derec had no idea why Avery had done this to him, but the monitor had made one fact clear: the number of chemfets was growing, and some of them were joining together to grow larger. They were already interfering with his ability to coordinate his movements normally, and they were going to kill him from the inside — paralyze him, he suspected — if he didn’t get rid of them.

Only Dr. Avery could do that. Derec had no idea how he could convince the man to do so.

Derec woke up spontaneously, looking at a plain ceiling of light gray. For a moment, he was completely disoriented. Then, remembering he was back in Avery’s office, he sat up with a start of near-panic and looked around.

Ariel was sitting at the desk. She flinched in response to his movement and looked at him. Her expression was at first blank, then relaxed to a shy smile.

“Ariel! How are you feeling?” Derec smiled in embarrassment himself at his sudden awakening, and ran a hand through his hair to brush it out of his eyes.

“I feel all right. I just... get confused sometimes.” Her voice was apologetic.

Derec swung his feet over the edge of the bed and looked around. Mandelbrot had found a way to opaque the walls, which were the same light gray as the ceiling, and now stood motionless with his back to Derec. Wolruf was awake, sitting quietly in the chair where she had been when he had gone to sleep.

“How are you?” Ariel asked. “I’m able to get several decent dishes out of the chemical processor, by the way. My memory was a little weak, but I learned some of it from scratch. Wolruf and I have eaten.

Some of it is waiting for you.”

“Thanks. I’m okay,” said Derec. He had benefited a great deal from the sleep. “A quick trip to the Personal and I’ll be fine.”

A moment later, he was standing in the cramped shower stall, letting steaming water massage his scalp with needle spray and run down his back. He stood with his head down, eyes closed. The heat made him feel better, telling him just how poorly he really felt. It was loosening kinks in his neck that he had never had before.

They were all refreshed as though it were morning, which it could not be. Their biological clocks would adjust soon enough.

He forced himself to leave the shower and dress again. If at all possible, he would disguise his ailments from his companions. Ariel and Wolruf were counting on his knowledge of Robot City to keep them safe and he would have to do that somehow until they located Dr. Avery. If Mandelbrot knew how fast the chemfets were interfering with his health, the robot just might have to turn him and Ariel over to the medical robots of Robot City under the First Law. That would play right into Dr. Avery’s hands.

He left the Personal and forced a cheerful smile.

“I’ve been reading up in the city computer,” said Ariel, nodding toward the terminal. “In particular, anything that we were involved in before.”

“Really? What have you found?”

“Did you know that our visits to the Key Center are recorded here? And this whole episode with Jeff Leong, the cyborg, when he was running amok?”

“Were there any reviews of Hamlet?” Derec grinned.

“Not that I noticed.” She seemed to miss the joke. “Oh, and of course the mystery of that wild, automatic shapechanging mode in the city, and how you stopped it.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought about being in the records much,” said Derec. “I’m not surprised, though.” He thought a moment, watching the cursor blink on the screen. “What is different from when we were here before is being able to get all the information you ask for. Have you been able to do that?”

“Yes....” She looked at him thoughtfully.” I do remember, now... you had trouble getting your terminal to respond at times.”

Derec nodded. “There were blocks on other terminals, all right. This terminal had no blocks, like I said last night. Still, that just refers to the ones Avery deliberately installed in the rest of the system. The problem with the city computer before was that so much information had entered during the fast pace of the shapechanging mode. It was all in the computer somewhere, but the information wasn’t really organized anymore.”

“If you want to see what you can do here....” Ariel started to get up and move away from the desk.

“No, not yet.” Derec tasted a bit of leftover breakfast and nodded appreciatively. “Mandelbrot, have you found any blocks in the city computer yet?”

“No.” The robot’s voice was low in both pitch and volume.

Derec and Ariel both looked at him in surprise. Wolruf also studied his impassive face.

“Mandelbrot?” Derec said. “Come to think of it, you’ve been quiet since I woke up. What’s wrong?”

“I have been unable to resolve the First Law contradiction I described to you last night. I am only functional now because I do not have complete information on which to base my judgments.”

Ariel looked back and forth between them. “What contradiction? Was that after I... fainted?”

“Yes,” said Derec, ignoring a tightening in his stomach. “Go on, Mandelbrot. Can I give you instructions or explanations that will make a difference?”

“I do not see how. Ariel’s condition is a serious matter. The robots at the Human Medical Facility here demonstrated a potential that I must logically consider.”

“Dr. Avery is crazy. If he gets us in his power, that may threaten her life — all of ours.”

“It is possible, but so far his greatest interest has been in you. The possible harm to her from Dr. Avery is not greater than the clear harm that inaction may bring about.”

“Are you approaching some kind of conclusion about this?” Derec asked.

“Conclusion!” Ariel cried. “How can you just sit calmly and talk about conclusions? This isn’t a philosophy class! He’s talking about turning us in to the enemy!”

Chapter 3

RELAPSES

DEREC WAS QUIVERING with tension, but he forced himself to stay clear-headed. “Mandelbrot?”

“I am finding it difficult to concentrate. I am dwelling on this problem and going in circles. If I enter a closed loop on the First Law, I will be useless to you.”

“Now listen to me! Before you go into any kind of closed loop, uh — okay, I’ve got it. Listen.” Derec was talking fast, really before he had more to say. “Urn....”

“I am listening,” said Mandelbrot.

“Maybe ‘u have more information to give ‘irn,” Wolruf suggested. She got down from the chair and stood in front of Mandelbrot, straining her neck to look up at him.

“Yes! That’s it,” said Derec. “Mandelbrot, we’re working with limited information on Ariel. The process she went through was experimental, but I think it worked. I reprogrammed her memory myself. We have to give it a chance.”

“People will have relapses,” Ariel pointed out, in a tightly controlled tone. She was gripping the edge of the desk so hard that her fingertips were white.

“These appear to be similar to a mechanical malfunction,” said Mandelbrot. “Certainly medical care is a logical and customary treatment to facilitate healing.”

“No!” Ariel wailed. “People don’t just fall apart in a straight line like machines. I may be just fine.” Her voice broke at the end, and she blinked back tears, turning away from Mandelbrot.

“I understand,” said Mandelbrot. “Inaction may not necessarily cause further harm to you.”

“Exactly.” Derec let out a long sigh of relief and caught Wolruf’s eyes. She made a face that might have been her version of a wink and then hopped back up on the chair.

“Maybe we can build on that and find out something at the same time,” said Derec. “Mandelbrot, I want to see if your attempts to get information through the city computer are blocked. That will tell us just how special this terminal is. Can you concentrate now on a function of that kind?” Distracting him wouldn’t hurt at the moment.

“Yes, Derec. I judge that the apparent First Law contradiction is still incomplete. The potential loop will close no further unless I receive more evidence that inaction could cause harm.”

“Good.” Derec sat down on the edge of the desk. “Now, last night we found out that the computer would not admit the existence of this office to you. I want to know if that has changed. I ordered it to block all information about our presence here. See if you can call up any hint of our using the facilities here.”

“I am trying several avenues,” said Mandelbrot. His voice was returning to normal. “I’m asking for information about intruders, humans, and energy consumption or oxygen usage in the Compass Tower.”

“What do you get?”

“All is as you instructed,” he answered promptly. “I am told that the office is not listed anywhere. Nor are the water or nutrient tanks in the chemical processor listed. No alerts of any kind have been entered since our arrival.”

“Good!” Derec grinned. “So we really are safe here. Our next problem is to get a line on Avery. Ariel, may I?” He slid off the desk and nodded toward the terminal.

“Of course.” She rose carefully, leaning her fingertips on the desk as though she was worried about her balance.

“Derec,” said Mandelbrot. “I suggest that we attempt parallel work with the city computer. The result should confirm or disprove your suspicions.”

“Good idea. I’ll enter questions and tell you what I’m doing.” Derec seated himself comfortably and started on the keyboard. “All right. How many humans are on the planet of Robot City right now?”

“I learn none,” said Mandelbrot.

“Ha! I’ve got one,” said Derec triumphantly. “Where is this human at the present time?”

“SEATED BEFORE THIS TERMINAL,” said the terminal.

Derec smiled wryly despite his disappointment. “Serves me right,” he muttered. “Wait a minute —” He typed in the question, “How do you know I’m human and not a robot?”

“THE CONSUMPTION OF NUTRIENTS FROM THE CHEMICAL PROCESSOR, USE OF WATER IN THE PERSONAL, AND CHANGES IN THE COMPOSITION OF THE AIR IN THE OFFICE INDICATE THE PRESENCE OF AT LEAST ONE HUMAN. THE PROBABILITY OF THE PRESENCE OF MORE THAN ONE HUMAN BASED ON THE AMOUNT OF HEAT GENERATED IN THE ROOM IS HIGH. COMBINING THIS FACT WITH THE ABILITY OF ROBOTS TO CONTACT THE CITY COMPUTER DIRECTLY THROUGH THEIR COMLINKS INDICATES THE PROBABILITY THAT YOU ARE HUMAN.”

Derec felt a twinge of panic. “So the use of this office has been recorded in the computer, after all?” His fingers fumbled on the keys, and he had to retype the question twice.

“NO.”

“Explain your knowledge of this information, then.”

“INFORMATION FROM THIS OFFICE IS STORED IN LOCAL MEMORY AT THIS TERMINAL. IT HAS NOT BEEN SENT TO THE CITY CENTRAL COMPUTER, PER YOUR INSTRUCTION.”

“Is the information in your local memory available to anyone else, anywhere?”

“NEGATIVE.”

Derec relaxed then, rubbing his fingertips against each other. At some point, he would no longer be able to use the keys. Someone else could handle the keyboard if necessary, but that would mean admitting his disability.

“What’s wrong?” Ariel asked.

“False alarm.” Derec placed his fingers back on the keyboard and thought a moment. Then he entered,

“What other locations indicate similar evidence of human presence on this planet?”

“NONE.”

“I’m not surprised.” He looked at the others. “Wherever our paranoid friend is hiding, he had the presence of mind to keep that information unavailable, even here.”

“Maybe especially here,” said Ariel, “if he was expecting us to search this office.”

“Maybe ‘e lefft,” suggested Wolruf. “Used a Key to leave the planet entirrely.”

“Oh, no.” Ariel looked from her to Derec. “You don’t think he left Robot City, do you? How can we find him then?”

Derec set his jaw grimly. “Wherever he is, we have to pick up his trail here.”

“But if he has kept all the information out of the computer, we won’t have any to find.” Ariel’s voice was cracking again.

Wolruf moved to her side in a silent offer of moral support.

“Mandelbrot,” said Derec. “Find out if any humans have been treated at that medical facility. If you can think of any more avenues for reaching evidence of humans on the planet, go ahead and follow them.

And if you don’t get any results, let me try.”

“Yes, Derec.”

Derec put his hands on the keyboard again and missed the first two keys he tried. “Wait a minute. We can shortcut this. Mandelbrot, you sit down at this terminal and use it.” He got up carefully, looking at Ariel and Mandelbrot to see if they had noticed his mistakes on the keyboard. If so, they did not show it.

Wolruf was eyeing him closely, but she said nothing. Instead, she left Ariel’s side and took a position where she could watch the screen as Mandelbrot worked on it.

“Mandelbrot,” said Derec, “turn on the viewscreens.” He turned to face one wall, hands on hips.

A moment later, the little office was flooded with light. On all sides, Robot City bustled on the ground far below them, stretching away until it vanished over the horizon. Above them, the sky shone down with brilliant sunlight.

Ariel turned slowly, as though in awe. “I don’t recognize any of it,” she said softly.

Derec saw towers, spires, swirls, and loops in the architecture he had never seen here before, either.

Humanoid and function robots moved about on the streets and on vehicles or machinery everywhere. He remembered that single-mindedness, that sense of purpose, from the asteroid where he had first seen the Avery robots.

Circuit Breaker, the distinctive structure that had revealed the ability of Robot City robots to think and dream creatively, was gone.

“The changes are extensive,” said Derec. “It’s not your memory at fault right now.”

“The shapechanging has to be stopped,” said Ariel. “It’s causing the massive rainstorms every night.”

“What?” Derec turned to stare at her.

She clutched at his chest, looking over his shoulder at visions only she could see. “The floods. They’re caused by the shapechanging mode in the city’s central core. We must stop it!”

Mandelbrot had already left the terminal and was gently reaching out to pull Ariel away from Derec.

“It’s just a temporary relapse,” said Derec quickly. “It doesn’t mean she’s getting worse. Understand?”

“I understand,” said Mandelbrot. He was easing Ariel into a sitting position on the bed. “You know, however, that discussing the shapechanging mode a short time ago did not trigger a relapse. Her condition is inconsistent at best.”

“Apparently her memories aren‘t anchored in a chronological perspective.” Derec paused, still watching Ariel. His impulse to hold her, to protect her, was held in check by his fear of somehow making the relapse worse.

Her eyes were closed and she was taking short, shallow breaths. She was sitting up on her own, though.

Gradually, her breathing slowed down and approached normal.

Satisfied that she was out of immediate danger, Derec continued with his thought. “Something triggers a memory, and she relives it as a current experience. Or at least, it seems that way so far.”

“A bad experrience,” said Wolruf.

Ariel seemed to be gaining her composure. Derec looked out at the city again. He was sure that the unfamiliar skyline had not resulted from the old shapechanging mode, but was simply the result of constant refinement on the part of the robots.

Suddenly he moved to the terminal and entered another question. As before, he made a number of errors, far more than usual. He slowed down and typed them correctly. “Is the city functioning under any defensive overrides of the type represented by the shapechanging mode it once entered in response to parasites in human blood?”

“NO.”

“Is it operating under any overrides to basic programming?”

“NO.”

He stared at the screen, somewhat disappointed. “Is something wrong?” Mandelbrot asked.

“Not exactly. I was just thinking that if the city was under an emergency of some sort, I might have been able to use it to our advantage somehow.”

“If Dr. Avery is on the planet, he probably would have dealt with an emergency already,” said the robot.

“Or maybe he left, but no crisis has arisen.” Derec shook his head in resignation. “He could be literally anywhere, with a Key to Perihelion. Or with all the Keys the robots could duplicate, for that matter.”

“It’s not shapechanging any more, is it?” Ariel was gazing out at the city.

Derec and Mandelbrot both looked at her in some surprise.

“No,” Derec said, relieved. “We ended it a long time ago. That danger is passed.”

She nodded, still gazing out at the city.

He watched her for a moment and decided that leaving her alone might do her more good than grilling her with questions. She was self-conscious enough already, though her quick recovery from this episode was encouraging. He just hoped that he was right about her not needing treatment by the robots. Then he saw Mandelbrot studying her, also.

“Mandelbrot,” Derec said firmly. “Her relapse is over.”

“It may recur, I surmise.”

“Another one may occur, but I don’t think the same one will.” Derec hesitated, thinking about the two episodes he had seen since they had returned here.

“We have compiled very little evidence for that conclusion,” said Mandelbrot.

Derec shook his head. “I think that every time something of that sort happens, her memories are integrated just a little more afterward. It’s part of the growth and replacement process that I didn’t recognize at first.”

“I understand the principle,” said Mandelbrot. “How certain of this theory are you?”

“Uh —” Derec saw Ariel watching him.

Her face reflected more anxiety than he had ever seen her express, even at the worst of her disease.

He looked back at the robot and cleared his throat. “I’m sure of it. Remember, the growth of her memories and identity was intended all along. These episodes are just... growing pains.”

Ariel closed her eyes in relief.

Derec sighed. He felt as though he was juggling too many lines of thought at once — Ariel’s recovery, Mandelbrot’s possible First Law imperative regarding her, and his own failing condition. What he really should be doing was finding Dr. Avery.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus his thoughts once more. “All right. We can figure that Avery has hidden all direct evidence of his whereabouts from the central computer. We’ll have to cast around for indirect evidence that he didn’t intend to leave. Anyone have any suggestions?”

Ariel looked at him for a moment and then returned her gaze to the viewscreens with a slight shake of her head.

Mandelbrot stood quietly, apparently reviewing and rejecting possibilities.

“We can’t find him by staying here in this room, can we?” Derec spoke softly, admitting what none of them wanted to say.

“The principle of identifying useful questions and seeking their answers through the central computer is sound,” said Mandelbrot. “Theoretically, the search could be narrowed a great deal in this manner if we ask the right questions.”

“And if we can’t?” Derec demanded irritably. “What then? Maybe we don’t have enough information to figure out the right questions, no matter how long we sit here.”

“Leaving this office to explore the planet greatly increases the danger to you,” said Mandelbrot.

“Now don’t you start more First Law objections. Sitting here doing nothing will eventually harm us the most.”

“I am not arguing against leaving itself,” said Mandelbrot calmly. “I do recommend a specific plan of action.”

Derec shrugged in agreement. “Like what?”

“That has yet to be identified.”

“We’re going around in circles!” Derec threw up his arms in frustration. He banged one hand against the desk when he lowered it and grabbed it in surprise.

Wolruf was watching him again.

“I suggest that Wolruf and I go out first,” said Mandelbrot.

“How so?” Derec rubbed his hand surreptitiously, pointedly ignoring Wolruf.

“Consider this. As a robot, I do not attract undue attention here. On our first sojourn through Robot City, Wolruf was of no particular interest to the robots of this community. We have the best chance of gathering information and returning here safely to report it.”

Derec thought a moment. ‘The terminal here confirmed your report that no special alerts are out. So the robots aren’t on the lookout for humans, particularly.”

“The presence of humans, however, will at the very least trigger the applicability of the Laws of Robotics. If their behavior is changed because of the Laws, even in small ways, the shifts may be noted by the central computer and attract the notice of Dr. Avery.”

“You mean if I instruct a robot to tell me something, he might be late fulfilling his duties or something.”

Derec nodded slowly. “With someone as paranoid as Dr. Avery, I guess maybe those small variations might cause a review... if he noticed them.”

“I am calculating probabilities only, of course,” said Mandelbrot. “I am balancing potential benefit against possible danger.”

Derec realized, suddenly, that he welcomed the chance to rest. He didn’t think of himself as a coward, or feel afraid. In fact, the Robot City he remembered had not been nearly as dangerous as Aranimas, the pirate. Still, he just didn’t feel right. Maybe he should lie down.

“All right, Mandelbrot,” he said. “You two go. We’ll stay here.”

Chapter 4

PRIORITY 4 REGIONAL CONTINGENCY POWER STATION

MANDELBROT CLIMBED UP the ladder from the office to the top of the Compass Tower with Wolruf clinging to his back. They got through the trapdoor without incident. Then the robot began the long but simple task of descending the narrow line of footholds down the steep front face of the pyramid.

He almost certainly could have found his way down the labyrinth within the Compass Tower to the main entrance. However, he did not want to be questioned by security robots about his presence if he was found there. Derec had pointed out that if he was questioned about climbing down the outside of the Compass Tower, he would not have to reveal his knowledge of a secret entrance.

Derec had also told him of how he and Ariel had painstakingly climbed down these small hand and footholds when they had first arrived on the planet. They were only as large as a hand or foot might require, and the severe angle of the pyramid face offered little margin for error. For a robot, of course, the descent presented no significant challenge.

Mandelbrot spent the time of the descent considering how best to proceed. When they reached the ground, Wolruf let out a long sigh and collapsed in relief to the ground.

“Are you harmed?” Mandelbrot asked her.

“No.” The little alien shook her caninoid head back and forth. “Don’t like rride.”

Mandelbrot looked around. A number of humanoid robots were walking briskly on their way; among them, a much larger number of function robots, of all sizes and varied shapes, pursued their own duties.

In spite of the unfamiliar architecture, this was basically the Robot City he remembered from his other visit here.

“What arr ‘u going to do now?” Wolruf inquired.

“I must take a calculated risk,” said Mandelbrot. In a space of time too quick for the alien even to notice, he made contact with the central computer and said, “I am a humanoid robot requesting duty assignment in the city matrix.”

“WHAT IS YOUR PRESENT ASSIGNMENT?”

“None.”

“WHAT WAS YOUR PREVIOUS ASSIGNMENT?”

“None.”

“YOU ARE IN ERROR. ALL ROBOTS IN ROBOT CITY HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED DUTIES. IF YOU HAVE RECENTLY BEEN RELEASED FROM A REPAIR FACILITY, YOU SHOULD GO THROUGH NORMAL REASSIGNMENT CHANNELS AT THAT FACILITY.”

“I have not been recently released from a repair facility. I am prepared to undertake duty assignment.”

“WHAT IS YOUR SERIAL NUMBER?”

Mandelbrot invented one that fit the pattern of other serial numbers he had noticed on his last visit.

“IT IS NOT ON FILE. ARE YOU A VISITOR TO ROBOT CITY?”

That was the question for which Mandelbrot was waiting. The way the computer responded to his answer might determine whether or not he would become a fugitive. “You should have me on record. I have past history on Robot City.” It was not a falsehood, but it was deliberately misleading. He didn’t add that he was on record by the names Alpha and Mandelbrot, not by the number he had just made up.

The need to protect himself and his human companions allowed him to feel comfortable with the misdirection.

“YOUR NUMBER IS NOW ON FILE. YOU ARE NOW INCORPORATED INTO THE CITY

MATRIX. YOU ARE ASSIGNED TO DUTY AT THE PRIORITY 4 REGIONAL

CONTINGENCY POWER STATION. REPORT IMMEDIATELY.” The computer proceeded to give city coordinates for its location.

Mandelbrot waited to see if the computer would attempt a, shift in his programming, but it did not. No matter how paranoid Avery was, he had not programmed suspicion of unemployed robots into the central computer. Now Mandelbrot was relieved.

“I have been assigned a duty in the city matrix,” he said to Wolruf. “This will aid me in gathering information.” He was aware that the little alien had hardly had time to blink while he had conducted his exchange with the central computer.

“Wherr do we go?” She asked.

“We are going to Priority 4 Regional Contingency Power Station. This way.”

“What is it?” Wolruf asked as she ambled along beside him, gazing around at the sights.

“I surmise from its name that it supplies power to a limited portion of the city in the event of a failure in the main system. Priority 4 suggests a relatively important part of the city.”

“Long walk?”

“It is a greater distance than you would care to walk. However, I believe we will find a tunnel stop shortly along this street. Certainly one will be near the Compass Tower.”

Mandelbrot did not want to consult the central computer again so soon for anything he could learn himself. The current location of tunnel stops was an example. Every time he asked a question that a Robot City robot should already know, he would increase the chances of being investigated or even forcibly repaired.

They located a tunnel stop promptly, and rode down the moving ramp into the tunnel itself. Mandelbrot again placed Wolruf on his back, before stepping into the cramped platform booth. There was just enough room for both of them. He gave his destination to the console and let it figure out the nearest tunnel stop. Then they were off, riding the upright booth as it slid forward on the siding.

A moment later, the booth swung into one of the trunk lines with the other moving platforms. Humanoid robots rode with them on all sides, as motionless as Mandelbrot within their booths. The computer sped them up, slowed them down, and changed them from one parallel trunk line to another as the traffic flow changed as a result of some booths entering from sidings and others exiting onto them.

The booth they rode slowed smoothly, swung onto a siding, and glided to a stop. Mandelbrot stepped out and rode the ramp up to the street before setting Wolruf down again.

This area of the city was not noticeably different from the one they had just left. The city was too new to have old and new neighborhoods as such. It was highly organized, of course, but much of the pattern was not readily visible, such as the power grid or the tunnel system.

Mandelbrot oriented himself and led Wolruf to the power station. It was hardly more than a door in a very tall, narrow building wedged between others on three sides. Just as he entered, he used his comlink to report his assumed serial number, his name, and a request that communication be spoken aloud. In work stations of this kind, robots in Robot City often used their comlinks exclusively.

“I am the Station Supervisor,” said a humanoid robot inside the door. “My name is Tamserole. I was told to expect you, Mandelbrot. Why do you wish to speak aloud?”

“I have a personal preference for this.” Mandelbrot did not draw attention to Wolruf by looking at her or mentioning her. He knew she would listen carefully to any conversation. “What are my duties here?” He waited to see if Tamserole would require the use of comlinks.

“Come with me.” Tamserole had glanced at Wolruf, but apparently had no interest in her.

Mandelbrot and Wolruf followed Tamserole into the building. The inside was quite narrow and its single impressive feature was a pillar of shiny metal alloy, one meter thick, rising into the ceiling. A console of some kind was set into its base.

“Our task,” said Tamserole, “is to make this unit fully automated so that l — and now you, of course — may discontinue our duties here and accept our migration programming.”

Mandelbrot had no idea what migration programming was, but Tamserole obviously assumed he knew.

At the moment, Mandelbrot did not dare reveal his ignorance.

“I do not understand why I have been given an assistant by the central computer, when I have been told to reduce staff here to zero, not to increase it,” said Tamserole. “Do you know why?”

“I believe so,” said Mandelbrot. “The central computer could not locate any past duty file on me. I think it decided to give me a redundant position until I prove my efficiency.”

“That is logical enough,” said Tamserole. “I wish I had been informed, however.”

“What is my duty?” Mandelbrot asked again.

“I have been changing the procedure since learning you would join me,” said Tamserole. “Until now, I have been programming the local memory of the central computer terminal in this console to make the judgements I have previously made myself. I will now leave you here to familiarize yourself with what I have done. Improve on it if you can.”

“What is your new duty?”

“I located areas in the power system that can be streamlined. I have already instructed function robots assigned to this station to meet me at certain areas of the city. I will supervise their improvements and attempt to identify other potential ones on the spot.”

“Very well.” Mandelbrot moved to the console and began studying the various readouts. Wolruf followed him unobtrusively.

Tamserole left the station without further discussion.

Mandelbrot first looked quickly through the information that told him the range and system that the station governed. As he had surmised, this was a backup facility that only went on line when and if the main power system failed. Once he had learned some basic information about his new duty, he ignored his work in order to call up the central computer through the console.

Questions posed through the console would initially be interpreted by the central computer as normal activity at the power station. If they aroused enough suspicion, of course, the central computer would realize that they were irrelevant to station duty and might be coming from the same humanoid robot who could not explain his recent past. Mandelbrot could not, however, pass up this opportunity.

Since the central computer had already refused to admit that Dr. Avery was on the planet, he would have to begin with indirect approaches. At least he had more information to work with than he had had in Avery’s office.

“What is migration programming?” He asked.

“PROGRAMMING THAT INSTRUCTS EACH HUMANOID ROBOT TO REPORT TO ITS ASSIGNED ASSEMBLY POINT.”

“What is the purpose of this programming?”

“TO INSURE THAT EACH ROBOT ARRIVES ON SCHEDULE AT ITS ASSIGNED ASSEMBLY POINT.”

That was no help.

“What is the purpose of the assembly point?”

“IT IS A RENDEZVOUS SITE FOR MIGRATING ROBOTS.”

“What will the robots do at their assembly points?”

“THEY WILL FOLLOW THEIR PROGRAMMING.”

“What will their programming be at that time?”

“IT WILL VARY WITH EACH ROBOT.”

Mandelbrot was about to ask for an example when the computer returned with its own question.

“WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF YOUR QUESTIONS?”

Mandelbrot considered aborting the dialogue, but did not want to raise any further questions about his behavior. He answered cautiously. “To learn why robots are migrating and what they will do at the assembly points.”

“YOUR MIGRATION PROGRAMMING IS SUFFICIENT INFORMATION FOR YOU AT THIS TIME.”

Mandelbrot did not dare reveal that he had not received such programming. If the city realized that, it would almost certainly try to program him. He might lose his independence in that event, and become an integral part of the city matrix. He looked down at Wolruf, who was waiting patiently.

“I will fulfill my duties here for a time and try to gather more information,” said Mandelbrot. “Do you feel safe in moving around on your own?”

“Yess,” said Wolruf. “Will walk around. Come back herr to meet u’. Okay?”

Mandelbrot considered the central computer. If he inadvertently alerted it in some way and triggered an investigation, he would not want to remain here. “I prefer a neutral site. Can you get back to that tunnel stop we used to get here?”

“Yess,” Wolruf hissed with her version of a grin. She obviously thought it a silly question. “‘U say when.”

Derec was lying on the couch with his eyes closed, tossing fitfully. He had eaten as much as he wanted, though he had had to force down enough to constitute even a small meal. Before, he had felt too weak to sit up; now, he was too restless to relax.

“Turn over,” Ariel said gently.

“Huh?” Derec started to look up at her, but he felt her hands slide under his shoulders and push him carefully onto his other side.

“Lie face down,” she said.

He welcomed the chance to follow directions instead of make decisions. When he tried to push himself to roll over all the way, though, his hands kept slipping on the fabric. Both his arms flailed weakly, accomplishing nothing. Finally, her slender fingers groped under his arms for a moment and gripped him just enough to help him onto his front.

Derec let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. Her fingertips began massaging the muscles of his upper back. Instantly, the tension began to break a little at a time.

As he relaxed, he concentrated more on the relief in his muscles that her massaging brought about. He could feel tiny vibrations each time she pushed, as though very slight kinks were snapping. Itwas like loosening any ordinary adhesion that might build up, such as a crick in one’s back, only they were very small.

“Is this helping?” She asked.

“Yes,” he whispered, not wanting to put out the energy to speak aloud. “It’s wonderful.”

She gradually worked her way downward. He could feel her breaking these kinks all the while. As more of his muscles were freed of them, he was able to relax a little more, and he became drowsy.

She continued for a time without speaking.

“You really feel bad?” Ariel spoke softly after a while. “I mean, you haven’t been awake that long.”

“Sleepy,” he whispered faintly. Her fingertips were a persistent, rhythmic source of pleasure. They moved back up to his shoulder muscles again and broke more of the adhesions.

He stopped relaxing. After a moment, he noticed it himself. As he started to wake up again, he opened his eyes, wondering what had happened.

“Feeling better?” She asked cheerfully.

“No. Not exactly.”

“What is it? Should I stop?”

“Could you — I mean, would you mind doing my upper back again? Right away?”

“Sure.” She returned her hands to the area where she had started, and where she had just kneaded a second time already.

“Thanks.” Derec paid close attention this time. The same kinks were loosened as before. He felt the same vibrations, the little snappings that relieved him of tension in the muscle.

Only those kinks had returned almost instantly. Not as many were back, at least not yet. He felt fewer this time than either time before. Still, the pattern was clear. The massages would have to be constant to do him any good.

“Is that better?”

“Uh — it’s fine. Look, I don’t want you to tire yourself out. Thank you. It does help.” That was true, but he couldn’t have her do so much work indefinitely for relief that lasted only a matter of seconds, or perhaps a few minutes.

“I’m glad.” Ariel quit, but remained sitting next to him, flexing her fingers.

“Could you help me turn over?”

“Of course.”

Again, his arms were weak and rubbery when he tried to push himself onto one side. She took his shoulders and brought him around in a kind of twist, where his pelvis and legs lay prone, but his upper body lay on one side. Then she moved to his legs and, with considerable effort, pulled him entirely onto his side.

“There.” She let out a breath and smiled.

He looked up to study her face. His secret hadn’t lasted very long. He was clearly in serious trouble and worsening rapidly.

“Derec? What is it?”

“I don’t see how I’m going to make it.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’m so tired. And weak. You can see for yourself. Avery could be anywhere on the planet, and I don’t think I have much time.” Even his tongue was slurring a little.

“You shouldn’t talk like that.” Her voice was sharp with some of her old spirit. “Mandelbrot can do anything a robot can do, plus some extras. And hasn’t Wolruf proven herself many times over?”

“The time,” said Derec. His anger flared, giving him energy. “We just don’t have much time. Sure, I think we — or they, anyhow — can find Avery sooner or later. But it may be too late for me.”

“After everything that’s happened to us? You’re going to give up now? Come on!”

“Well, what can I do? Just lie here?”

“Maybe we can still think of something. We got away from Aranimas, didn’t we? We got out of Rockliffe Station, and we solved the shapechanging and the murder mystery — or I should say, you did....” Her voice trailed off.

He waited a moment, expecting her to continue. When she didn’t, he looked up at her.

She was staring at him with horror on her face. Startled, he raised up enough to look himself over, but saw nothing unusual. He passed his hand in front of her face but she did not react.

“Ariel,” he said firmly.

“It’s Derec,” she whispered. “He looks just like Derec. It’s impossible.” Suddenly she turned and leaped off the bed, only to run into the desk almost immediately. Her legs buckled and she thumped hard on the floor, blinking rapidly.

Derec forced himself up on one elbow and reached down to grip her arm. “Ariel. Can you hear me?”

She was looking around the room very slowly. At first she didn’t seem to hear him, but then she nodded, almost imperceptibly. “You’re up,” she said, surprised.

“Not very far.”

She reached back with her hand and slapped him across the face hard, leaving his cheek stinging from the blow.

Derec sat up straight, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Are you crazy? What —”

“Look at yourself!”

“Myself? What are you talking about?”

“You’re sitting up. Derec, you have to stay alert. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or the fear or the, the... I don ‘t know what. But when I went into a fugue state again, the emergency started bringing you back to normal.”

“And then you hit me... and I sat up.” Derec nodded slowly. “I’m hardly back to normal, but I see what you mean.”

“Don’t give in to it, Derec, You have to fight it.”

“All right. I get it. It’s like cold when you’re in danger of freezing. You have to move around and keep the blood circulating. Something like that.” He stood up, and winced at the stiffness in his joints. “I still hurt allover.”

Ariel rolled the desk chair into position for him. “Come on. Back to the terminal. The work will keep your mind busy, and maybe we’ll think of something useful.”

Chapter 5

EULER

MANDELBROT REALIZED THE time had come for him to rendezvous with Wolruf. Since he might still benefit later from acting within the city matrix, he did not want simply to abandon his duty. Tamserole had not returned, so he took the greater risk again of reporting to the central computer.

“This is the Priority 4 Regional Contingency Power Station. I am reporting a leave of duty because my supervisor is not present to receive it.”

“WHERE IS YOUR SUPERVISOR?”

“I do not know. He is fulfilling his duty elsewhere.”

“WHY ARE YOU LEAVING YOUR DUTY?”

“I have an emergency.”

“EXPLAIN IT.”

“I do not have time.” Mandelbrot broke the connection, hoping that he would be able to return to duty here later if it would be useful. He did not have an explanation yet. Attempting to create one could wait until it was necessary. Considering the immense size of the central computer and its total data, the oddities of his behavior might still escape the notice of Dr. Avery.

Mandelbrot had spent his relatively brief time at the station actually performing his duty. He had made some progress in creating an autonomous system that would free Tamserole to activate migration programming, but he had not quite finished it. If he had, he might have been able to leave without suspicion. He was not certain.

One problem Mandelbrot faced was that he was intellectually distinctive from the robots of Robot City and at any time might reveal his differences by the questions he asked or the actions he took.

Mandelbrot rode down the ramp of the tunnel stop and saw the little alien sitting calmly to one side of the loading area. She was in a slight shadow, out of the way of robots getting on and off the platform booths. When she saw him, she stood up impatiently.

Mandelbrot did not speak right away. Instead, he lifted her onto his back and stepped into one of the booths, where they would not be overheard by accident. The booth would not start until it had a destination, so he entered the one for the Compass Tower. They could change their minds later if necessary.

“Have you learned something?” he asked once the booth was on its way.

“Yess,” Wolruf hissed eagerly. “Robots moving everywherr. Change city so that fewer robots arr needed at each place. Then they leave theirr dutiess.”

“The migration programming. Do you have any clues about what that means?”

“No.”

“I don’t want to take the risk of asking the central computer myself or asking through the station terminal, for fear of attracting too much attention. We’ll have to return to the office.”

“Good,” said Wolruf, with her caninoid grin. “Getting hungry now, anyway.”

Derec was forcing himself to sit up at the terminal despite the painful stiffness in his back. He had been asking the central computer all kinds of questions, anything either he or Ariel could think of, shooting wildly in the dark. So far, they had not discovered anything that led them anywhere.

The blank screen shone patiently in his face. “Any more ideas?” he asked her.

“What about those robots at the Key Center? If my memory serves —” She smiled at the irony. “If it serves, they seemed to be chosen for their high quality. What are they doing now?”

“Good idea. Let’s see.” Derec asked, “What activities are underway at the Key Center?”

“NONE.”

Derec straightened in surprise. “Where is Keymo and the team of robots assigned to him?”

“KEYMO IS AT THESE COORDINATES.” The central computer gave some numbers. “NO TEAM IS CURRENTLY ASSIGNED TO HIM.”

“What is he doing?”

“HE IS FOLLOWING HIS MIGRATION PROGRAMMING.”

“What are the other robots doing?”

“THEY ARE FOLLOWING THEIR MIGRATION PROGRAMMING.”

“Where are they?”

The computer responded with a long list of coordinates. They represented a very wide range of locations. Most of them were on parts of the planet far from here at the heart of Robot City. These locations had not even existed as part of the city when Ariel and he had first arrived. Some coordinates, however, were listed more than once. Keymo’s location was included.

“What pattern of significance do these coordinates represent?” Derec asked.

“THEY ARE PRECISELY 987.31 KILOMETERS APART. THE PATTERN COVERS ALL THE LAND SURFACE OF THE PLANET.”

“Why?”

“THIS DISTANCE RESULTS IN EXACTLY THE NUMBER OF ASSEMBLY POINTS DESIRED.”

Derec felt a surge of excitement. “Desired by whom?”

“DESIRED BY THE PROGRAM.”

“What is the purpose of the program?”

“ACCESS DENIED.”

Derec slapped his hand on the desk. He was too weak to hit it very hard. “So this terminal is blocked now, after all. We just didn’t ask it the right questions before to turn up the blocks.”

Behind him, Ariel said nothing.

“I wonder. If Avery put some blocks on this terminal as a precaution before we got here... why didn’t he put the standard blocks in? Why did he ignore most of the blocks the other terminals have but leave some of them?”

On the screen, the words “ACCESS DENIED” taunted him silently. On the walls all around them, Robot City bustled in the shining day. The room was silent.

“All right,” Derec said to himself. “Maybe the block really isn’t on this terminal. He’s set himself up somewhere else, of course, and he’s simply blocked whatever he’s done at that terminal. That must be it.

He hasn’t thought to block this one. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

When Ariel didn’t answer, he painfully looked back over his shoulder at her. “Ariel?”

She was standing motionless with her eyes open. They seemed to be aimed at the floor just past the desk, but she was not blinking. When he put his hand in front of her, she did not react. He gently reached up to close her eyes with his fingertips. They remained closed.

“We can’t wait,” he said quietly to himself as much as to her. “We can’t just sit here and try to think our way out of this. We don’t have the time.”

He stood up and carefully put one arm around her shoulders. With gentle pressure, he was able to guide her to the couch. She walked stiffly and slowly, with her eyes still closed. He could not get her to sit until he sat down first and pulled her down into a sitting position next to him.

“Ariel?”

He could see her eyes moving beneath her closed lids. After the last few episodes he had seen like this, he didn’t dare try to bring her out of it himself. He would probably just make her worse.

After a few minutes, he moved away from her a little bit and watched her. She was sitting straight, rather primly, with her head up. Maybe she was reliving a trip in the seat of a spacecraft or something. She offered no clues.

Finally she inhaled sharply and blinked a couple of times.

“Ariel?”

She looked at him and then at one of the viewscreens.

“Ariel, are you... with me again?”

“I did it again, didn’t I?” She reached for one of his hands.

“It was different this time. You weren’t shouting or anything.” He held her hand and put his other arm around her.

“I was watching the play,” she said softly. “It was real, wasn’t it? You know the one I mean? I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t even be sure where I am, or when I am.”

“Slow down,” he said patiently. “One question at a time. You said the play. You mean Hamlet?”

She nodded. “When we did it here.”

“Did it come out any better this time?” He forced a smile, hoping to lighten her mood.

She shook her head, not responding to his humor.

“All right. Look, I’ve decided something. Let’s go see Avernus. Or Euler. Or any of the Supervisors. They’re probably right here in the Compass Tower.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ve been stuck in here long enough. Come on.” He got up, wincing at the shooting pains in his legs.

She stood up reluctantly. He pushed a button on the control panel on the desk, and a doorway opened in one of the viewscreens. It was a black maw in the center of downtown Robot City.

“Come on.” He edged carefully out the doorway, looking around. All he saw was the short spiral staircase, maybe three meters or a little more, that he had come up when he had first found the office.

From here it led down to a closed door. “We won’t find any robots near here. We’ll at least be safe until we get out of the taboo area.”

“All right.” She hadn’t moved from the couch. “But what if I... you know. What if I go into one of my states right in the middle of everything?”

“We’ll just have to chance it.” He looked back and saw the reluctance on her face. “We’ve tried being cautious and we haven’t gotten anywhere. We have to go.”

“I might foul you up, Derec. Not knowing what’s going on and all. If you want me to stay....”

“I may need you to save me, too.” He smiled wistfully. “We’re still a team, no matter what.”

She relented, then. “No matter what.” She followed him to the door and gave his arm an affectionate squeeze.

Derec clung to the rail of the spiral staircase all the way down. His knees burned at every step. He took a deep breath at the bottom, thankful for the rest as she came down behind him. Then he opened the door.

A short hallway extended ahead of them. He recognized it and the gently glowing wall panels that provided light. The end of this hallway marked the nearest limit to the office that robots were allowed to come. Past that point, he and Ariel could encounter robots on their normal duties at any time.

He walked forward slowly, watching for shadows and listening for any sound that would mean unwanted company. If they could get down to the meeting room of the Supervisors, on a lower level, the robots might assume that they had entered from the street level. He did not want them to suspect any other possibility.

Ariel followed closely as he moved through the hallways. These halls were narrow, but this level of the pyramid had very little floor surface. In just a few moments, they came to an elevator.

He took a deep breath and pressed the single button on the wall panel. “About six floors down, if I remember right,” he said quietly. “Do you remember any of this?”

She nodded.

They waited in a tense silence. When the door began to open, he drew in a sharp breath and felt her grab a fistful of the back of his shirt. It was empty, however, and they entered with embarrassed smiles of relief for each other.

He pressed the button for six levels down. The elevator dropped precipitously, but slowed gently enough and came to a smooth stop. Again, they stood completely still while the door opened.

No robots were waiting outside the elevator, but for the first time they could hear sounds of activity. The noises were not specific; perhaps they were no more than a variety of hums created by function robots cleaning the rooms and halls. Still, this level was clearly occupied.

“We’re okay now,” he said quietly. “In fact, we may want to meet a robot who can act as a guide. Just remember. If a robot asks how we got in here, our story is that we came in the front door.”

“And got lost.” She grinned.

“Uh, yeah.”

The halls were wider here, and the ceilings higher; to make the trip worse, the maze was far more intricate. Intersecting halls crossed the main hallways more and more frequently, and they could look down any of them to see further expansions of the labyrinth. Long ago, he had guessed that this level was roughly halfway up the pyramid. The floor surface of this level was very large.

“I just can’t remember,” said Derec, stopping at an intersection of halls. He leaned against one of the glowing panels for support. “We could wander indefinitely. I’ve been taking all the largest halls, but they still haven’t led anywhere.”

Ariel studied his face.” You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

“I can’t let that stop me, or we won’t get anywhere.”

“Then quit dawdling and come on!” Ariel pushed past him and started down the wider of the two hallways.

He smiled weakly as he followed her. She was being brusque in the hope of angering him, and causing another brief remission of his condition. It didn’t work because he recognized the effort, but he appreciated it as he forced his burning legs to follow her.

Suddenly a rhythmic beeping sound echoed down the hall toward them. A small function robot, only a meter high, rolled toward them with a blue light on its front. A small scoop front functioned as a vacuum, and brushes on retracted tentacles betrayed its second duty as a sweeper. Its beeping recognition of strangers in the halls was probably a third function, nearly an afterthought.

Derec and Ariel stopped, watching it hurry forward. It skidded to a halt in front of them, still beeping.

He laughed. “I guess that’s our alert. I thought we’d rate a siren or two, at least.”

“It’s kind of cute. I suppose it’s sending out another signal as well, huh?”

“I’m sure it is. Hey, there’s a familiar face — if you want to call that a face.” Derec grinned. “Euler!”

The humanoid robot striding down the hall toward them was one of the first they had met on the planet.

Euler was one of the seven Supervisor robots whose brains together constituted one of the complex master computers of the city. His head was molded to the human model, and he had glowing photocells for eyes. To complete the pattern, he had a small round mesh screen in place of a mouth.

“Hey, Euler!” Derec repeated. “Why isn’t he answering? What’s wrong with him?”

Euler walked right up in front of them and stopped. The little function robot whirred and rolled away, apparently in response to a comlink order.

“Greetings, Derec. You are not allowed here. Come with me.” Euler stepped aside to let them go first.

“What kind of a welcome is that?” Derec demanded, walking forward reluctantly. “Euler, it’s us. We’re back. And we need help and information.”

“I recognize you, Derec and Ariel.” The robot was walking just behind them both.

Derec had the uneasy feeling that they were being guarded rather than accompanied in a friendly fashion.

“You used to call me Friend Derec,” he pointed out.

“We are conducting urgent and important business,” said Euler. “You are acquainted with Robot City and you know you will be safe here. You must leave the Compass Tower.”

“I told you we need help!” Derec shouted angrily. “The First Law! Have you forgotten all about it —”

Ariel tugged hard on his sleeve, slowing him down. He shook her off, turning to stop and face Euler eye to eye.

“No,” Ariel insisted. “Don’t give anything away. Something’s gone wrong.”

Derec froze in his angry posture, glaring at the impassive face of the Supervisor. He hesitated, absorbing the unexpected behavior of Euler. She was right.

“What’s happened?” Ariel asked Euler. “Why are you acting different now?”

“You are not allowed in the Compass Tower.”

“Wait a minute,” said Derec. “What about your study of the Laws of Humanics? Remember those? You need humans for that.”

“Please continue forward. You will be removed by unharmful force if necessary.”

“Ha! ‘Unharmful force’? You don’t know how fragile we are, do you?” Derec laughed derisively.

“What’s happened since we were here last?” Ariel asked. “Have you changed your plans for the city?”

“Come with me.” Euler reached out with each pincer and took their arms.

Even the gentle pressure caused a snapping of adhesions in Derec’s arm. He winced in surprise, though the feeling was partly one of relief. The pincer immediately withdrew.

“You hurt me!” Derec shouted. “Ariel, come on!” He grabbed her arm and started to run.

Chapter 6

ON THE RUN

HIS LEGS BURNED painfully and his back felt oddly stiff as he tried to hurry down the hallway. She was already ahead of him now and pulling him, rather than the reverse. Behind them, Euler was hesitating, his decision-making slowed by Derec’s accusation.

Ariel pulled Derec around a corner and down another hallway. “They’ve been reprogrammed,” Derec called to her, panting. “They must have been. If the robots had evolved new priorities themselves, they would still have the same personalities.”

“Shut up and come on!” She turned another corner.

Derec stumbled after her, forcing his legs to stretch out. “Look for an elevator!”

They skidded around another corner, trying to gain traction on the clean, polished floor. Her grip had slid to his hand, and their arms were fully outstretched as she pulled him along after her. She turned another corner, continuing a zigzag pattern.

“Do you know where you ‘re going?” Derec asked, as quietly as he could.

Ariel slowed to a halt at another intersection of hallways. No pursuit was evident yet, but in a building this size, the Supervisors could certainly marshall a large number of function robots to detect their presence. Some humanoid robots would undoubtedly be around to join the chase, also.

“No, I don’t know where I’m going,” she said.

Derec looked behind them and down the four halls that met where they were standing. “Where is everybody?” He gritted his teeth against the pains shooting through his legs and his back.

“Come on.” Ariel started again, then noticed he was still looking down the other hallways. She leaned back to grab his hand and pull him after her.

They turned several more corners, always looking for doorways or main hallways.

“There!” Ariel shouted, as they rounded one corner. “Isn’t that an elevator?”

“Worth a try,” he gasped, wheezing as his chest heaved for air. “Hit the button. I think we’re in real trouble.”

They waited anxiously, looking behind them as they waited. At last the door opened, and again the elevator was empty. They got inside and Ariel hit the bottom button.

Derec fell back against the wall for support and closed his eyes. “I hope nobody’s waiting for us when the door opens.”

“What did you mean, we’re in real trouble?”

“Two things. The way Euler acted, I think Avery reprogrammed all the Supervisors while we were gone.

That means the whole city is operating under different rules. I’m also guessing that as soon as our presence was reported in Euler’s positronic brain, the central computer reported right to Avery, wherever he is.”

“Then why isn’t anyone chasing us?”

“I’m afraid... he’s ordered Hunter robots after us. And the others are simply staying at their regular duties.”

The elevator door opened into dim light. No one was waiting for them, however. Derec stepped out first, looking around.

They appeared to be in a small tunnel stop. In most of the others, the multiple tracks were visible from the loading area. Here, a wall isolated the siding, keeping it out of the sight of travelers passing on the main trunk.

Derec edged toward the siding and looked around. He could feel the rush of air moving past him from one side to the other as it blew in from the main tunnel. Ariel followed him.

“I pushed the ‘wait’ button,” she said. “They won’t be able to call this elevator back up.”

He nodded approval. “Come on.”

They crowded into the single platform booth waiting on the siding. He started to punch a code into the console, then hesitated.

“What’s wrong? We have to get away from here as fast as we can.” She tugged on his arm.

He entered a code for a tunnel stop just a short distance away and the booth started to move. “The tunnel computer is a branch of the central computer. As soon as someone asks, it will report our destination.”

“What?”

“That’s right.” He nodded grimly. “We have to get away from here and get out quick. If we ride too long, we’ll have a welcoming committee by the time we stop.”

The transparent booth followed the siding around a curve and onto one of the parallel tracks in the main tunnel. Derec looked around anxiously at the stolid robots riding nearby booths, but none showed any interest in them. On the other hand, the robots presented their customary expressionless aspects while riding the booths, and if one was scared enough — as Derec was now — they seemed stern.

A paranoid might easily imagine that they were secret escorts, not incidental travelers.

He shook his head angrily. That line of thought would make him as crazy as Avery.

Suddenly the booth slowed and swung into another siding. This was an ordinary stop, with a loading area fully visible from the main tunnel. That stop under the Compass Tower was the only disguised one Derec had ever seen.

“Nobody’s waiting for us,” said Ariel as the booth came to its carefully calculated stop. She stepped out onto the empty loading platform.

He came out behind her. “If Hunter robots are on the way, they may just be getting the coordinates now.

They can pick up our trail here, though, without going to the Compass Tower at all. I — hey!”

“Derec, what is it now?” She wailed.

He whirled and leaned back into the platform booth. After a quick glance down the way they had come, he entered a series of further coordinates, punching codes as fast as he could remember them.

“Derec, let’s go.” She looked down the main tunnel anxiously herself. “What are you doing?”

“That’ll help.” He stepped out of the booth and it immediately took off down the siding.

“What did you do?” She asked as they stepped onto the moving ascent ramp.

“They’ll have to check all the destinations I entered.” He grinned, then winced at the pain in his legs.

” Maybe we got off here; maybe we rode on. They can’t know.”

“Do you think it’ll matter? Won’t they just call out more Hunters to cover every stop?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “If nothing else, it’ll spread out their resources some.”

They rode up into the sunlight and stepped out onto the street. He looked around, feeling totally exposed. As the only humans on the planet except for Avery, they could be spotted instantly virtually anywhere they were.

“Our only chance is if the Hunters are the only ones alerted to the chase,” he said, eyeing an approaching humanoid robot suspiciously. It was alone, with a number of varied function robots moving about on the street near it.

Ariel followed his gaze and lowered her voice. “When we were looking for Jeff, the whole planet cooperated in the alert, didn’t they?”

“They had the First Law giving them an extra push in that case,” said Derec. “In this case, I don’t know what they’ll do. If even the Supervisors have been reprogrammed, then new priorities may be in effect for the entire population.”

The humanoid robot walked past them without interest. Down the block, a couple of others were crossing the street away from them. They just didn’t react to Derec and Ariel’s presence.

“Shouldn’t we get out of here?” Ariel looked back down the tunnel stop. “We’re just standing around.”

“I’m thinking!” Derec whispered hoarsely. His legs were throbbing painfully. “We have to know where we’re going. We can’t just run down the sidewalk. I won’t last.”

“I’ve got it. Come on!” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him again.

He clenched his teeth at the shooting pains in his back and his legs as he hurried after her.

Mandelbrot was walking briskly down the sidewalk toward the Compass Tower with Wolruf trotting alongside. They were coming from the regular tunnel stop closest to the pyramid. Suddenly, ahead, the distinctive forms of two tall, powerful humanoid robots with multiple sensory apparati crossed an intersection in the distance on their way toward the Compass Tower. They were Hunter robots, programmed with a particularly high sensitivity to pattern recognition and detail.

Mandelbrot stopped abruptly.

“What iss the matter?” Wolruf asked as she came to a belated halt and looked up at him.

“Hunters,” said Mandelbrot. “Unless other intruders are present, our group is certainly their quarry. And they are going right to the Compass Tower.” He accessed the central computer. “Please inform me of any general alert that has been issued.”

“NONE,” said the central computer. “PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF AND YOUR DUTY TASK.”

“What is the current assignment of active Hunter robots?” Mandelbrot guessed that he could risk one suspicious question before the central computer would start a trace on his transmission.

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF AND YOUR DUTY TASK,” the central computer repeated.

Mandelbrot broke the link. “I can’t get any significant information without endangering our position,” he said to Wolruf. “Since no general alert has been made, only the Hunters are a danger to us.”

“To uss?” Wolruf asked. “Or only to the ‘umanss?” She looked back toward the Compass Tower.

“Ssee Hunterss now. Going away from uss to Tower.”

“We’ll have to assume that the alert is for our entire group. If Derec and Ariel have been identified, then we certainly were included. If they have only been identified as intruders, we may not have been.”

Mandelbrot picked up Wolruf and placed her on his back, where she clung by herself.

“Now what?” Wolruf asked.

“I must take one more risk,” said Mandelbrot. He attempted to reach the terminal in the Compass Tower office. No response came back of any kind. “Puzzling,” said Mandelbrot.

“What?”

“I think Derec and Ariel must have left the office Even so, I would normally receive an acknowledgement of contact from the terminal and a request for a message.”

“Perrhaps the offiss is different,” said Wolruf. “Special arrangement forr Averry.”

“That is probable,” said Mandelbrot. “In any case, they are not answering. They have probably fled, which is fortunate. We have no way to reach them through my comlink, however, and no way of knowing where they are.”

“Follow Hunterss,” Wolruf said softly. “Iss only way.” Mandelbrot nodded agreement. “As long as they do not become aware of us.”

Mandelbrot took Wolruf to a slidewalk and they rode up to an overpass near the Compass Tower. It gave them a view of the front of the Compass Tower and several of its many sides. They could not watch every side, but this was a reasonable start.

Before long, five Hunter robots appeared from the front entrance of the Compass Tower. Two of them immediately headed for the tunnel stop that Mandelbrot and Wolruf had just used. Another pair mounted a slidewalk and took a path roughly at a right angle to the previous pair. The last Hunter remained on the stationary sidewalk, within the right angle formed by the routes of the two pairs.

“Good news,” said Mandelbrot. ‘They have not caught their quarry, nor are they confident of doing so immediately.”

“Bad newss,” hissed Wolruf. ‘They know what direction to look in. We musst ‘urry, or will lose them.”

“Granted.” Mandelbrot was already back on the moving slidewalk, keeping as many of the Hunters in sight as long as he could. The first pair was soon out of sight, down the tunnel stop. The second pair was moving quickly on the slidewalk and was intermittently visible between various buildings. Mandelbrot and Wolruf had now descended the overpass and were coming around a curve. Not too far ahead, the last Hunter was just mounting the same segment of slidewalk.

“‘Ope ‘e doessn’t come thiss way,” said Wolruf.

The Hunter did not. It was going away from them and was clearly in a hurry. Instead of just standing, it was walking forward even as it rode and Mandelbrot had to keep pace.

“Not too close,” Wolruf said.

“Nor can we afford to lose it. Further, I speculate that other Hunters may have left the Compass Tower from exits out of our sight. We must remain on the alert for others. As we approach the humans, the Hunters will all begin to converge.”

“Then what do we do?” Wolruf asked.

“I don’t know.”

Chapter 7

THE HUNTERS

DEREC WAS HOBBLING painfully, slowed to a walk, as Ariel finally dragged him to her destination. It was a depot of the vacuum tube cargo transportation system. He stopped when he saw it, pulling back on her arm.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “They had humanoid robots staffing these depots. They’ll report where we’ve gone.”

“Not if no one asks. Come on.” She pulled harder than he had, and he allowed himself to follow.

As they came up on the loading dock, he saw that he was wrong. A small function robot was alone here now, loading cargo without supervision.

“What if it doesn’t let us get in?” He asked.

“Ignore it.” Ariel pushed a small container aside, out of the reach of the function robot’s extended pincers.

The robot itself was a small ovoid shape with six tentacles ending in various gripping tools. Without a positronic brain, it would not interfere deliberately, or respond to the Laws of Robotics, either. As it rolled forward after the small box, Ariel climbed into the open, transparent capsule and reached out to help Derec climb in.

Reluctantly, he stepped over the side of the capsule, in extreme pain, and slowly stretched out inside it.

“We have to go somewhere,” he said. “This thing doesn’t have a console inside it. It has to be programmed on the dock console, over there.” He pointed.

Ariel hesitated while the function robot placed the small box inside the capsule between her feet and Derec’s head. She squatted down quickly and stretched out just as the function robot closed the trapdoor.

“We’re going wherever this box is,” she said. “The good thing is, we haven’t left any kind of trail. That programming is completely independent of us.”

“Yeah —”

His comment was cut short by the sudden acceleration of the capsule. It moved forward on rollers to push through a door that gave under the pressure. Then they were in the vacuum tube itself, and the capsule really picked up speed.

As before, the momentum pushed both of them back against the rear of the capsule. Derec was too sore to brace himself with his arms, so his head and shoulder were jammed against the back surface. They were rushing through darkness, blasted by the air that swept over them from unseen vents.

Before, the flight from their pursuers had kept his adrenaline flowing, and he had experienced some remission of his stiffness. Now even the excitement of riding the vacuum tube was not enough to keep the symptoms from recurring. His legs continued to throb painfully, and the shooting pains in his back seemed to settle in with the increasing stiffness he felt.

His one relief was that she was right. They had not left a trail.

The tube curved upward. He closed his eyes in anticipation of light, and brilliant sunlight flooded the capsule. Opening his eyes slowly so they could adjust, he took in the new scene around them.

This section of the transparent vacuum tube rose high above the ground and used the existing supports of various buildings to wind over the city. At this altitude — and it was still rising — it would not interfere with earthbound priorities. Their capsule was shooting along the tube at high speed over what should have been a spectacular view. He was in too much pain to enjoy it.

Suddenly a thought struck him.

“Ariel,” he said, with effort. “That entire staff at the Key Center has been reassigned. But it was the Key Center that provided the vacuum to run this vacuum tube system. That means the Key Center itself is still working. What’s going on around here, anyway?”

She didn’t answer.

“Ariel?” He called louder over the rushing air, but he knew what her silence meant. With a sinking feeling, he turned his head to look at her, feeling more snappings in his neck.

She lay on her back, holding herself in position by pushing against the rear of the capsule with both hands. Her face, turned to the side, showed exhilaration and excitement as she gazed at the panorama of the city. She did not seem to see him at all.

Derec guessed that she was reliving their first wild ride in the vacuum tube, long ago. It was a happier period in some ways, though they had felt burdens at the time. At least he had been healthy, and she had been functionally so before her disease had really struck.

He turned his face away from her. If she was reexperiencing those memories, she was probably more comfortable at the moment. He could let her have that. Then, once they were safely out of this capsule, they could get their bearings.

The tube did not always go straight. Its various straightaways were broken with curves, loops, and changes in altitude. These most often simply accommodated architecture that must have been already in place. Sometimes they brought the capsule to an intersection of tubes, where curves allowed it to change direction with minimal loss of speed. Occasionally the shifts in direction led by depot sidings that their capsule shot past. Every so often the tunnel dipped underground, and once it ran along the ceiling of the platform booth tunnel system for an extended period.

Finally the capsule leveled off near the ground and decelerated sharply into a siding. It stopped abruptly, sliding them both to the front of the tube with the small package. Derec lay panting on his back, looking up through the transparent capsule and tube at the impassive face of a Hunter robot.

The slidewalk was the slowest of Robot City’s powered transportation systems. Mandelbrot and Wolruf followed the single Hunter on it with increasing boldness. The various Hunters had obviously taken different assignments and they had no way of knowing what role this Hunter actually had.

“Not too close,” hissed Wolruf softly over Mandelbrot’s shoulder. “‘U will get itss attention, I tell ‘u.”

“I doubt it,” said Mandelbrot. “I now think it, as a Hunter, maintains an awareness of everything around it. It must have scanned us and rejected us as its quarry.”

“That iss sstupid,” said Wolruf.

“Eh?” Mandelbrot said stiffly.

“Not ‘u. ‘Im,” she said patiently. “Why would theirr order include Derec and Ariel but not us?”

“It does seem to be poor programming,” said Mandelbrot. “However, I do not judge it as stupidity.”

“Then what?”

Up ahead, the Hunter still advanced along the moving slidewalk. It seemed to know where it was going.

“Derec often spoke of the single-mindedness of Avery robots,” Mandelbrot explained. “Their task orientation is narrow. If the central computer or the Supervisors, or even Avery himself, learned of the presence of Derec and Ariel, perhaps the order to the Hunters specifically named them and did not extend to anyone else.”

Wolruf shook her head at the Hunter ahead of them. “Iss stupid. Good for us, but still stupid.”

Ahead of them, the Hunter moved on. Mandelbrot strode tirelessly after it.

Derec and Ariel were in no shape to protest as two Hunter robots lifted them out of the capsule door.

The function robot on the dock waited until the humans were out before grabbing the small package that had been scheduled for the trip. Derec hurt allover and was simply too weak to struggle.

One Hunter held him by the arm, and he actually leaned against the robot for support. Ariel was just now blinking at the Hunter holding her. He recognized that as one of the signs that she was coming back out of her latest memory fugue.

“Ariel,” he said quietly.

She turned at the sound of his voice, then started at the sight of the Hunters. “Derec —”

“They’ve got us,” he muttered wearily. He shook his head as the Hunters turned and started for the nearest slidewalk, pulling them along in their inflexible grips.

Derec still tried to think of a way out of this. They were positronic robots and would respond to protests based on the Laws. From past experience, however, he also knew that they had been programmed to detain and arrest humans without harming them. He could argue, but he didn’t know how to win.

Besides, he was just too tired. Derec stumbled several times, forcing himself to keep up with the Hunter.

Finally the Hunter lifted him bodily and carried him, not out of concern but for efficiency of travel. The other Hunter lifted Ariel at the same time.

The Hunters turned to ride the slidewalks and Derec found himself facing Ariel.

“How did they get us?” She mouthed the words silently, with a quick glance at her captor’s head.

“I don’t think they care if we talk,” he said aloud. “I’m guessing now that some other Hunters started by questioning the tunnel-system computer. That gave them the coordinates of the tunnel stop where we got off the platform booth, as I was afraid might happen. From there they must have used heat sensors to track us along the street to the vacuum tube depot.”

“But the capsule in the vacuum tube goes so fast. How did they get in front of us?”

“They must have found out which depot that package was going to and called ahead to have these guys waiting for us.”

“After that long ride,” said Ariel. “You make catching us sound so simple.”

“Apparently it was,” he said ruefully.

“They’ve got us,” she said, in a voice that cracked. “Derec, look out! They’re right behind us in the conduit —”

Derec stared at her in a kind of resigned worry as she entered another displaced memory episode. This one must be from the last time Hunters had tracked them down and captured them, when they had tried to run away through the maze of underground conduits in the city. The vacuum tube hadn’t worked any better.

He ached allover. Having the Hunter carry him was almost a relief after the effort to escape. Ariel was squirming and protesting in the grasp of the other Hunter, but she had no idea of where she was or what was happening now. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

The Hunters only rode the slidewalks a short distance. They were soon intercepted by a large function robot in the shape of a transport truck. The Hunters mounted the open back of the truck, still carrying Derec and Ariel.

The switch to the truck woke Derec up, and he watched the city pass by as they rode. Ariel was now silent, her eyes closed. The city streets seemed depopulated to him, at least compared to what he remembered from their previous visit to Robot City. Maybe, he thought, the city had expanded faster than the robot population, causing the robots to spread themselves thinner over the whole planet.

He glanced at Ariel periodically with growing concern. Her episodes seemed to occur more frequently under stress. That might mean she was getting worse, not better.

The truck stopped several times to pick up other Hunters from the slidewalks. Now that the search was over, they would probably be taken to a storage area or something. They were all unusually tall for humanoid robots, with expansive torsos. Narrow benches molded from the truck bed itself provided seats for all of them along the side walls. They sat with their knees drawn up and their waists level with the top of the walls, watching Derec and Ariel without a word spoken.

The truck slowed down as it approached one more lone Hunter on a slidewalk. Two familiar shapes caught Derec’s eye in the distance, and he stiffened.

“Ariel,” he said quietly.

She didn’t answer.

He glanced over his shoulder at Mandelbrot, who was standing on the stationary shoulder of the slidewalk just a few meters away. Wolruf had been with him a moment ago, but was now out of sight.

The Hunter was climbing into the back of the truck, making a total of six. Derec reached over and shook Ariel’s limp arm.

“Ariel.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, still partly disoriented. “What? Derec, where are we?”

It was too late to get off the truck, even if the Hunters could be distracted somehow. The last Hunter was on board and the truck started up. Then the engine began a high, irregular whine and the truck coasted back to a stop.

The Hunters remained motionless for a short time. Then Mandelbrot stepped forward. Derec was certain that they were all communicating through their comlinks.

“What’s going on?” Ariel whispered.

“I’m not sure.”

Mandelbrot suddenly climbed onto the front of the truck and sat down. Derec had trouble seeing what he was doing, but a minute later the truck began to move forward, Hunters and all. Apparently Wolruf had sabotaged the function-robot brain and Mandelbrot had successfully volunteered to operate a manual override. Derec hoped Wolruf was safe, wherever she was — most likely under the truck and hanging on precariously.

By now, Ariel had also recognized Mandelbrot. She and Derec exchanged puzzled glances, still in the firm grip of the silent Hunters who had taken custody of them. They watched the Hunters carefully as the truck picked up speed and rolled along, but the robots seemed perfectly content with the situation.

Soon Mandelbrot had the truck up to a considerable velocity, much faster than the truck had driven itself. The Hunters gripped the sides of the truck to stabilize themselves. Derec did not feel any loosening of the hold on him, however.

Mandelbrot was going to try something to free them. Derec tensed himself in anticipation.

He was not too surprised when the truck suddenly took a sharp left that sent everyone in the back sprawling. With a hard, painful yank, he wrenched himself free of the Hunter holding him, knelt on the bed of the truck, and got leverage under the robot. He gave a heave and flipped the Hunter clean out of the truck.

Next to him, Ariel had almost pulled free of the Hunter holding her before it regained its balance. All of them leaped to their feet to restore order, but Derec shouldered another Hunter into the one grappling with Ariel. The truck took another sharp turn and all the Hunters stumbled again. Derec watched for anyone to become overbalanced toward the edge of the truck bed and managed to shove another one out of the truck.

Their massive size and great strength had become a liability on the unstable truck bed.

The vehicle came to a sudden, screeching, careening halt that threw everyone in the back forward.

Mandelbrot, who had been braced for the stop, leaped into the back of the truck and hoisted out another Hunter who was still in the act of standing up again. Mandelbrot rolled one more out on top of that one and then pulled Derec free of the one grappling with him.

Mandelbrot’s great advantage became clear to Derec. The first priority programmed into the Hunters was to find and detain the two humans. The First Law’s demand that they not harm the humans overrode the Third Law’s requirement that they protect themselves.

While the remaining two Hunters grappled with Derec and Ariel, Mandelbrot was able to get the right leverage under each Hunter and lift them out of the truck.

“Hang on,” Mandelbrot called out in a remarkably calm voice. He jumped back to the manual console in the front and drove off.

Derec fell back on the bed of the truck, gritting his teeth in pain but relieved that they had escaped. Ariel scooted over to him and sat down, her hair blowing in the breeze.

She smiled faintly. “That was close. How did they —”

“Look out!” He shouted.

Behind her, over her head, one of the Hunters was climbing up the side of the moving truck, where it had gotten hold before the truck had started again. Derec tried to stand, but the pain in his legs was too great.

His feet slipped and he fell back again.

The Hunter was just climbing over the side when it suddenly vanished from sight and hit the street with a crash.

Then Wolruf’s head appeared over the side with her caninoid grin. “Hunterr poorly balanced,” she said, climbing over the side.

Ariel jumped up to help her over.

Mandelbrot turned another corner on the city street, then another. After speeding quickly down another block and taking one more turn, he came to a stop, a smooth one this time.

“What is it?” Derec called, but he was too uncomfortable to get up. “Ariel, find out what’s going on.”

“Mandelbrot?” Ariel said, standing.

Derec could hear both their voices.

“This vehicle has a comlink that must be fully disconnected,” said Mandelbrot. “Wolruf successfully disconnected the function-robot brain from the truck controls, but it still works, and the central computer may be able to locate our position through it. However, as soon as I finish disabling it.... There.”

Derec heard a heavy object hit the pavement alongside the truck.

“The truck is now comlink invisible,” said Mandelbrot. “We cannot be tracked through it. We are free to move about.” He sat down at the console again and drove off.

Derec let out a long sigh.

Chapter 8

HIDEOUT

DEREC STARED UP at the bright sky overhead as the truck moved along. Now that the danger of the Hunters was over for the moment, Mandelbrot proved to be an efficient driver. He took a number of turns, Derec guessed to complicate the reports of robots who witnessed their passing.

The Hunters would not have taken long to resume their single-minded pursuit. However, they would now have to follow the truck’s path. They had no way of learning its destination and instructing others to lie in wait for it.

As far as Derec knew, Mandelbrot didn’t even have a destination.

Ariel and Wolruf sat quietly with Derec, all three slumped so that they were not visible from the street, though any robot observing from the buildings above had a clear view of them if it looked.

“That seemed awfully easy,” said Ariel. “I don’t understand how those big, strong robots with their positronic brains could let themselves be thrown overboard like that.”

Derec laughed in spite of the pain it caused in his ribs. “Surprise, mostly. Robot drivers are always very careful. Those Avery robots have never experienced a human driver speeding along recklessly.”

“But Mandelbrot’s a robot.”

“Yeah, but he was in the rescue business. He must have weighed the relative danger to us from an accident against the certainty of danger if we were taken to Avery, and decided to throw them off balance — literally.”

“That sounds like a touch of creative thinking, too,” said Ariel. “Lucius, the Cracked Cheeks, all the other robots who were showing signs of ‘contagious’ robot creativity. Poor Lucius. I wonder where the rest of them are now.”

“Come back to prresent,” said Wolruf. “Hunterrs won’t give up. Robotss learn fasst. Won’t fool them the same way again.”

Eventually, Derec closed his eyes against the light. They were safe for the moment and could relax. He dozed, still vaguely aware of the stiffness in his legs and back and of the rhythmic motion of the truck.

He woke up in subdued light to the wonderful sensation of Ariel massaging his back. They were on a clean floor inside a large building. The truck was nearby, also inside. A large door, big enough to accommodate the truck, was in the front wall of the building.

“What is this place?” He asked softly.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” She paused to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“A little better. Sort of. Where are we?”

“I’m not sure. Mandelbrot can tell you.” She turned. “Mandelbrot, he’s awake.”

“Greetings, Derec.” Mandelbrot walked over and looked down at him. “We are temporarily safe. The Hunters will have to locate us by questioning witnesses along our route, and they became quite sparse after a time. I used an evasive pattern that included doubling back and crisscrossing at random. I cannot calculate how long we have.”

Wolruf joined them and sat down quietly.

“You’re quite a truck driver, Mandelbrot.” Derec forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“I had the vehicle under control at all times,” said the robot. “The First Law —”

“I never doubted it, Mandelbrot. Time to reconnoiter, though, I suppose. What do we do now?” He tried to raise up on one elbow, but winced and lay down again.

“I will bring you up-to-date,” said Mandelbrot. “This building houses fully automated, non-positronic equipment that cannot identify and report us to the central computer.”

“You mean something actually happens here? I thought it was a warehouse or something.” Derec looked around at all the empty space. “Avery robots don’t waste facilities like this.”

“The only functioning equipment is in the far comer from here. It sends vibrations into the ground that report the firmness of pavement and building foundations within a certain radius.”

“That’s all?” Derec laughed. “All this space for a systems-maintenance sensor?”

Ariel shrugged. “You can see for yourself. Nothing else is here. Four walls, a ceiling, and a floor.”

“It follows some information Wolruf and I were able to gather before the Hunters prevented us from returning to the Compass Tower,” said Mandelbrot. “The robots here are under migration programming of some kind.”

“Yes! Did you find out what that is?”

“Not precisely,” said Mandelbrot. “It has caused a general instruction, however, to reduce the staffs allover Robot City to skeleton level.”

“That’s something,” said Derec thoughtfully.

“As an example,” said Mandelbrot, “the size of this building implies equipment no longer present. I surmise that the original functions taking place here were either discontinued or improved technologically to the point where humanoid robots became unnecessary. At that point, the staff followed its migration programming and departed.”

Derec nodded. “Without eliminating or modifying the building for greater efficiency. This migration must have an extremely high priority.”

“And he told me that no general alert has gone out for us, as you guessed,” said Ariel. “That’s still the case, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Mandelbrot.

“Something big has been going on here for a long time,” said Derec. “Think about it. This must be the Robot City that Dr. Avery actually envisioned.”

“What do you mean?” Ariel asked.

“When we first arrived, that wild shapechanging dominated the city. The Supervisors befriended us because they needed help and they wanted to serve humans.”

Ariel nodded cautiously. “And solve the mystery of that murder. We never did figure out who the victim was.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Who just happened to look exactly like you.”

Derec chose not to discuss that. He was afraid of sending her into another displaced memory episode.

“Then, while the Key Center was in operation, the city was in a lull while a huge number of Keys were being duplicated and stored. We were treated with a kind of benign neglect, wouldn’t you say?”

“I guess you could call it that,” she said. “But they were very cooperative in finding Jeff Leong, the cyborg.”

He nodded. “Temporarily a cyborg. The Laws of Robotics required that. Now, though, everything seems to be changed. And it happened after we left for Earth and Dr. Avery remained here.”

“So every robot here has been reprogrammed?”

“I think so. The city has that same sense of obsessive purpose that I first saw on that asteroid. And I haven’t seen any sign of the robot creativity we saw before we left here.”

Ariel tensed. “Oh, no. You mean you think it was programmed out of them?”

“It looks that way to me. Right now, Mandelbrot may be the only robot on the planet who can think independently enough to do things like rescue us by driving crazily.”

“You said the local robots are now acting like the ones on the asteroid. You mean the asteroid you were on right after you first woke up with amnesia, before we met?”

“Yeah.”

“I agree,” said Mandelbrot. “The narrow focus of the Hunters supports your conclusion, though now Wolruf and I must have been added to the list of quarry.”

“We need a new plan of action,” said Derec. “And I’m getting sicker all the time.”

“At the moment, I suggest that you three remain here,” said Mandelbrot. “I must find a new food source for you. Also, while the Hunters must now be looking for me also, I still blend the most with the native population.”

“‘U ‘ave no wherr to go,” said Wolruf.

“Good point,” said Derec. “Maybe you can get a lead on that from the central computer without giving yourself away. Go ahead.”

“I can try. And I still have the use of the truck.” Mandelbrot walked to the far corner of the building and pushed a button to open the big door that led to the street.

“Does the equipment here include a terminal?” Derec asked.

“No. I will have no way to contact you.” Mandelbrot mounted the front of the truck and looked down at them. “We have been out of sight here for a while. If the Hunters have widened the radius of their search by this time, I may be able to avoid them.”

“Good luck, Mandelbrot,” said Ariel. “Don’t take too many chances, all right?”

Mandelbrot drove out into the sunlight and turned onto the street. Someone closed the big door behind him. As he drove, he kept watch for Hunters, aware that they would recognize a function truck being driven by a humanoid robot before they would recognize him in particular. He accessed the central computer.

“Transmit a topographical map of this planet with land use identified,” he said.

“WHAT IS YOUR IDENTITY AND YOUR DUTY TASK?” The central computer asked.

He broke the link. The central computer had not always required that information during every communication, but now it was asking him every time. Perhaps it was part of the new security system. He accessed again, just to make sure.

“Give me the location of agricultural developments on this planet,” he said.

“WHAT IS YOUR IDENTITY AND YOUR DUTY TASK?”

He broke contact again. Identifying himself was too risky, and doing so still might not get him the information. He would have to think of something else.

In the meantime, he drove. He kept watch for any break in the grid of city streets and buildings that might indicate a change of land use, but that would only work if Avery was growing food in the open... and doing it nearby. Mandelbrot also turned his attention to smells, in the hope of detecting chemical processing of edible substances.

Far above the planet, a small spacecraft was just entering the atmosphere, still too distant to be visible from the ground. It carried only one passenger.

His name was Jeff Leong, and he had come to repay a debt of gratitude.

Jeff was entering the atmosphere of Robot City in a Hayashi-Smith, which was a small, discontinued model with facilities for ten people. It bore the exotic name of Minneapolis. The ship computer was doing the flying. Jeff had managed to rent it with his father’s credit after persuading him that no one else could be trusted with the task of making this trip.

“Status report,” Jeff said to the computer, watching the screen that showed him white clouds ahead and the glittering pattern far below of urban development.

“EXCELLENT,” said the computer. “SYSTEMS ARE OPERATING EFFICIENTLY AND WEATHER IS OPTIMAL. SELECT LANDING SITE.”

“I don’t know where to land yet,” said Jeff. “I never really knew the geography of this place. Uh, scan for a big pyramid with a flat top, okay? And I mean a. big pyramid.”

“SCANNING. THIS MAY REQUIRE A PROLONGED PERIOD IN VERY LOW ORBIT, DEPENDING ON CLOUD COVER.”

“Whatever it takes.” Jeff leaned back and relaxed.

This was much better than his last arrival on this planet. That had been an emergency crash-landing that had killed everyone else on board. He shook his head to avoid the memories of that frantic descent.

“Computer,” he said aloud. “While you’re scanning, keep watch for humans. I’m looking for a couple of them. And as far as I know, they’re the only humans here.”

“SCANNING MODIFIED.”

The ship computer was not fully positronic, but it was efficient enough to accept Jeff’s orders and translate them into ship controls.

He hoped that finding Derec, Ariel, Mandelbrot, and Wolruf would not take too long. When he had left the planet in the only functioning spacecraft it had — a modified lifepod that supported only one passenger — he had promised to send help back if he could. The craft had taken him to a space lane, and had remained there, sending out a distress signal while keeping him alive.

The ship that had rescued him had been jumping from star to star back to Aurora, and he had yet to reach Nexon, where he hoped to start college. This rescue mission was an important matter of pride to him, since Derec and Ariel and the robot medical team had saved his life. Then Derec and Ariel had sent him away when each of them would have liked to use that ship personally.

He sighed and watched the screen. He expected most of the problem to be in locating them. The Minneapolis was outfitted to take them all back to Aurora together.

“PYRAMID LOCATED,” said the computer. “CLOSE-UP ON SCREEN. PLEASE IDENTIFY.”

On the viewscreen, the Compass Tower shone in the sunlight. The angle was from above, of course, and a little to one side. At this distance, it looked like a flawless model on a design display.

“That’s it,” said Jeff excitedly, sitting forward to look. “Can you land near it somewhere without smashing up anything?”

“SCANNING FOR A LOW-RISK LANDING SITE IN THE AREA,” said the computer. “TO AVOID ALL CHANCE OF DAMAGE TO MANUFACTURED AND CONSTRUCTED PROPERTY, THIS CRAFT REQUIRES MORE LANDING SPACE THAN THE AREA HAS SO FAR OFFERED.”

“Show me the area as you scan it,” said Jeff. “Just try to land as close as you can.”

“DISPLAYING.”

Jeff watched the screen closely as the view pulled back to a greater height and began to move quickly across the landscape. At first he tried to recognize other places, such as a city plaza he remembered and the distinctive bronze dome of the Key Center. He couldn’t find them. Then, as the camera continued to scan, he realized that they were covering a lot of area very quickly.

“Look for an open grassy region,” he said. “It was just outside the city. I’m sure it wasn’t more than a few kilometers from that tower.”

“PERIMETER OF URBAN DEVELOPMENT NOT LOCATED. SCANNING CONTINUES.”

He watched as block after block of city passed beneath them. The robots had continued building, much faster than he had ever imagined. He couldn’t afford to land on the other side of the planet. Derec and Ariel had lived close to the tower.

“Listen,” he said. “Most of this population is robots. If they’re damaged, they can be repaired. Just don’t hit the buildings, ‘cause we won’t survive, either.” He grinned at his own humor.

“CLARIFY.”

“We have to land around here somewhere. Try to avoid the robots, but give us priority. Watch out for humans; other than that, find a place in the city near that tower where we can land. A park, a plaza, a big intersection. Something like that.”

“SCANNING MODIFIED FOR MODERATE-RISK LANDING SITE. SITE SELECTED.”

“Good,” said Jeff. “That was quick. See if you can reach the city’s central computer. Give it fair warning of our landing site so it can tell everybody to get out of the way.”

“LINK ESTABLISHED. WARNING SENT AND ACKNOWLEDGED. CURRENT SPEED REQUIRES WIDE TURN. PREPARE FOR LANDING IN APPROXIMATELY TWELVE MINUTES.”

Jeff grinned. “Good job.”

Eleven and a half minutes later, Jeff stared in tense fascination at the screen as the small ship sliced through the atmosphere at a low angle and came shooting straight toward the skyline. The Minneapolis was versatile enough to act as both a shuttle and starship, which was why he had chosen it. He trusted the computer, which would not allow him to come to harm if it could help it, despite being non-positronic... and yet even the computer couldn’t prevent every malfunction. After all, he had just barely survived one crash here.

He was gripping the sides of the chair and sweating freely as the screen showed a broad boulevard stretching straight ahead. The ship was going to land along the pavement — did this thing have wheels? In a panic, he couldn’t remember.

It must have; the computer wasn‘t stupid.

The streetfronts of a thousand buildings shot by in a blur, first below and then on both sides. The ship touched down and streaked along the empty street, suddenly decelerating sharply.

Everyone was out of the way; the city’s central computer had done its part. The boulevard was as flat and straight as only a city of robots would construct. The ship came to a halt.

Chapter 9

WELCOME BACK

JEFF LAY BACK in the chair panting heavily, with sweat running down his face and arms. That was a lot more frightening than he had expected... but a lot better than last time. The ship computer had been flawless.

Next time, he’d shut off that stupid viewscreen. Who needed to see that, anyhow?

“LANDING COMPLETED,” said the computer cheerfully.

“Shut up,” Jeff muttered.

He didn’t want to stay in this can. Shakily, he got up and moved to the door. “Exit access,” he instructed.

The door unlatched and opened. A flexible ladder extended from it. Jeff held the sides of the ladder firmly, turned, and climbed down.

On the street, he drew in a deep breath and looked around. It was Robot City, all right; it had the slidewalks, the tunnel stops, the clean, organized buildings and streets. On the other hand, it was totally unfamiliar.

A couple of humanoid robots were just now coming into view ahead. The central computer would have removed the alert, of course. He turned and looked behind him. A few more robots appeared, riding the slidewalks along the side of the boulevard.

The nearest robot approaching him was remarkably tall and full-chested.

“Excuse me,” said Jeff. “I’m in need of assistance.”

The Hunter robot took him firmly by the upper arm.

“Hey! Wait a minute. What are you doing?” He pulled back, but the robot didn’t let go.

“I am detaining you,” said the Hunter. “You are in custody and will remain so at least until you have been positively identified.” It turned and began to walk.

“I’m Jeff Leong. That’s no mystery.” He hurried alongside, walking awkwardly, almost sideways.

“I am programmed to locate and detain two humans among the four intruders known to be in Robot City. You will not be harmed. However, you must come with me.”

“And if I don’t?” He demanded, looking up at the robot’s expressionless face.

“You will come willingly or unwillingly. You will not be harmed. I prefer that you not resist.”

The robot continued walking, dragging Jeff along with it. They stepped onto a slidewalk and went on walking.

“Who are you looking for?”

“The two humans named Derec and Ariel,” said the Hunter” Also an alien robot named Mandelbrot and a small living creature of undetermined type.”

“Hold it. You think I’m Derec? Is that it?” Jeff tried to pull back again, to no avail.

“I am instructed to take you into custody pending identification,” said the Hunter impassively.

“It’s not necessary.” Jeff managed to turn enough so he could walk straight ahead, at least. “Look, other robots know me. Contact the medical team. What was their name? Some kind of hospital. A Human Medical Center, or something like that. They can tell you who I am. Call them through the central computer.”

The robot did not respond.

” Are you calling them?”

It still did not respond.

“Not programmed for that, I suppose,” said Jeff. He sighed. “Welcome back to Robot City, Jeff.”

They walked along the moving slidewalk for quite some time. Jeff’s belongings were still stashed in the ship, of course; he had intended to grab his personal luggage after getting directions to Derec and Ariel.

Resigned to a long and probably frustrating interrogation by more robots, he marched along in step.

A certain amount of foot traffic and vehicular traffic went by, but Jeff was sure that it was less than he remembered from his previous visit. Somewhat belatedly, he was recalling just how many unexplained oddities this city had had. Then, lost in thought, he was not paying particular attention to the details around him until he heard a screech of tires coming up right behind him.

Jeff flinched and whirled around. The Hunter holding him turned its head but did not break stride.

A humanoid robot was just leaping out of the cab of a large, halted vehicle.

“Mandelbrot!” Jeff shouted. “Tell this robot who I am, will you? It thinks —”

He was interrupted as the Hunter spun completely around, at the same time yanking him to the side away from Mandelbrot. The robot’s hold on him did not loosen even for a moment.

“You are harming the human,” said Mandelbrot to the Hunter, in a remarkably unemotional voice. He stepped onto the slidewalk and approached them.

“I am not harming him.” The Hunter’s voice was equally calm. It stood still.

Jeff understood that Mandelbrot had spoken aloud so that he could hear. Apparently Mandelbrot intended to rescue him — and that implied changes here in the city that were completely beyond Jeff’s expectations.

Jeff let out as loud and intense a scream as he could and dropped to his knees on the slidewalk, which was still moving.

The Hunter still had him by the arm.

“Release him!” Mandelbrot shouted, striding forward and lifting Jeff in his own arms. “Hunter, you are inefficient! You are violating the First Law!”

“You... are... Mandelbrot... the fugitive robot,” the Hunter said slowly. It was quivering slightly, its functioning impaired by the uncertainty that it might have harmed Jeff. Yet it had not let go.

Mandelbrot gripped the wrist of the Hunter and gently held Jeff’s captive arm, as well. “Release him,” he ordered again. “I will take him into custody.”

“You... are... not... fooling me,” said the Hunter. “Step... away.”

Jeff could see that. The Hunter knew that Mandelbrot himself was a fugitive from the central computer, so his words were all suspect. However, the combination of his accusation and Jeff’s play-acting was enough to raise a reasonable doubt in its mind, and the force of the First Law was so great that it was now hesitant to act.

“Mandelbrot, carry me,” he pleaded, in as anxious a voice as he could muster. “He’s hurt me.”

The Hunter was in trouble, but not fully convinced. Mandelbrot did manage to force its grip open, however, and remove Jeff’s arm. Then he picked up Jeff around the waist, jumped off the slidewalk onto the stationary shoulder, and ran for his truck.

“Stop!” The Hunter moved to action the moment Jeff was free, though it was still not at full capacity.

Jeff was facing backward as Mandelbrot ran with him, and could see the Hunter gradually entering a slow run after them. The Hunter’s instructions were still in effect.

“It’s already sent out a call for other Hunters,” said Mandelbrot, still running. “You will get an explanation at a safer time. For now, when I hoist you into the back of this vehicle, lie down and hang on. You will be safest that way.”

“Uh — okay —” Jeff complied as Mandelbrot jumped into the cab and drove off fast.

Derec was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of the big door opening. Light hit his closed eyelids and he reluctantly opened them with a squint. So Mandelbrot was back. He took in a deep breath, hoping to wake up completely and find food being offered.

The vehicle entered the building and then Ariel was already closing the door again.

Mandelbrot turned in the cab and helped another figure in the back to his feet.

“Say!” Ariel cried excitedly. “Is that... that’s Jeff!”

Amazed, Derec forced himself up on one elbow. His back and shoulders ached painfully.

“Hi, gang,” said Jeff. He stood looking around at them all from the back of the truck. Then Mandelbrot lifted him down.

“Jeff,” said Derec. He grimaced as he sat up all the way. “What the... what are you doing here?”

He gave an embarrassed shrug. “I came to get you. To rescue you from Robot City.”

Derec felt his jaw drop open.

Ariel clapped both hands over her mouth.

“Ooooo,” said Wolruf.

“Oh, no.” Derec rubbed his forehead, stifling an embarrassed smile of his own.

“What is it?” Jeff asked, looking at them all one after another. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to leave any more?”

“Jeff.” Ariel went over to him and gave him a hug. “You actually came back for us. That’s wonderful.

Please don’t misunderstand. It really means a great deal. Thank you.”

Jeff hugged her back lightly, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t get it. What’s going on?”

“Jeff,” said Derec. “We can get off the planet now if we want. In fact, we can travel pretty far — as far as Earth and back. We... I... have a different problem now.”

“You can travel now?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Derec.

Jeff looked at Ariel, who shrugged. Then he gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “Mind if I sit down?”

He collapsed on the floor where he was, not too far from Derec.

“I thought you were going to send someone else back,” said Derec. “I had no idea you’d come yourself.”

“How did you find it?” Mandelbrot asked. “If you remember, I had no navigational data to give you.”

“I had a computer cross-reference the Aurora-Nexus route with what little I knew. It worked.” Jeff ran a hand through his black hair, staring at the floor. “I’m a little shocked. But I’m glad you haven’t been stranded.”

“How did you get here?” Derec asked.

“I was picked up by a ship headed back to Aurora. Once I got back there, I put together the location where I was picked up, the length of time it took me to get there, and the nearest stars. A computer gave me the likely directions, but I had to try several before I got the right one.” He shrugged. “The hard part was getting my father to spring for the rental of a ship. And now I have to tell him it was unnecessary.”

“Well....” Ariel started.

Jeff turned to look at her.

“We could still use some help;’ she said. “We have to find Dr. Avery before his robots get ahold of us.”

“Avery! Did you say Dr. Avery?” Jeff sat up straight.

“You’ve heard of him?” Ariel said, dropping down to sit next to him. “Where?”

“Mandelbrot, Wolruf,” said Derec. “Come closer and follow this. It may turn out to be important.”

“Well,” said Jeff. “I tried to explain to my father what I needed the ship for and he reminded me that this weird guy named Avery once had some wild plans about a planet with a planned community sort of like this one.”

“Wait a minute! This was supposed to be a secret,” said Ariel. “My mother funded it. How does your father know about it?”

“He doesn’t, really. It’s just that Dr. Avery gave away some hints when we met him.”

“Met him?” Derec and Ariel cried in unison.

“Look, I don’t remember it very well —”

“We’ve all had a few memory problems,” Ariel said with annoyance. “Come on, this is important to us.”

“When?” Derec demanded. “Recently? Back on Aurora?”

“No, no, no. A long time ago. A couple of years ago.”

Derec settled back. “What happened?”

“He was still planning then, I bet,” said Ariel. “Considering how fast these robots work, that’s plenty of time.”

“He came to consult with my father,” said Jeff. “My father is a professor of Spacer cultural studies. His specialty is tracing the development and evolution of the various Spacer communities.”

“What does that mean?” Derec asked.

“They’re comparative studies,” said Jeff. “What planets have in common and what they don’t. How they’re organized. How their values differ. Stuff like that.”

“Your father must be an expert in that, huh?” Ariel said. “That’s why Avery sought him out.”

“I guess.” Jeff shrugged. “Anyhow, a couple of years ago, this Dr. Avery asked to consult informally with him. My father was real impressed with the guy. He said Avery was an eccentric genius, and made me tag along to meet him.”

“What did he want to talk about?” Derec asked.

“He was asking about social matrices,” said Jeff. “In particular, how my father would set up a utopia, if he could.”

“Utopia.” Derec exchanged a glance with Ariel. “That’s how he viewed this experiment, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Jeff. We can use any clues you have to Avery’s personality.”

“I can tell you what I remember. Why do you have to find him, anyway?”

“He implanted a kind of... well, sort of a disease in Derec that only he can remove. We have to figure out where he is on the planet. Can you tell us what he’s like?”

“I hate to tell you this, but I don’t remember him very well.” Jeff looked at all of them apologetically. “I wasn’t that old, and I didn’t really care about seeing him. I went because my father wanted me to meet this genius. He said it would be a good experience for me. The truth is, I didn’t get much out of it.”

“Anything,” said Ariel. “Just start talking. Maybe things will come back to you.”

“Well... my father had a very high regard for him. More than usual. I mean, he’s surrounded by very capable people all the time. They were pretty friendly for a while.”

“Then what?” Derec asked. “Dr. Avery left Aurora, I suppose?”

Jeff shook his head. “Not right away. That is, he came and went for a time. My father had some sort of falling out with him, I think, but I never bothered to ask about it.”

“Are you sure you don’t know why they stopped being friends?” Ariel asked. “It might turn out to be important.”

“I think he was pretty egotistical. I got that impression right away. And he was definitely eccentric. I guess my father just got tired of listening to him.”

“That fits my mother’s description,” Ariel said to Derec. “Can we use that somehow?”

“I don’t know. We’ve all found dealing with him unpleasant.” Derec shrugged. “Mandelbrot, you can correlate data the best of us all. What do you think?”

“We have information about Robot City,” said Mandelbrot. “And we have information about Dr. Avery. However, we don’t have the necessary correlations to narrow the scope of his whereabouts.”

“What about our staying here?” Derec asked. “Are we safer staying here longer, or should we move?”

“I only have a guess,” said the robot. “I again used an evasive route in returning here, but the fact that the truck vanished from sight in the same general area as last time will narrow the Hunters’ scope considerably. On the other hand, traveling somewhere else clearly provides more data to the central computer of our whereabouts every time we are witnessed by any robot in the city.”

Derec sighed and rubbed the stiff muscles in his legs. “Thank you for the lecture. What’s your conclusion?”

“We are better off remaining here for the remainder of the day. At nightfall, travel will be safer than staying here. These are both calculated risks, not cert —”

“I understand,” said Derec. He gritted his teeth and lay down again. Normally he wanted to know how Mandelbrot formed his judgments because the robot’s consistent logic could be informative. Now he was just too tired and in too much pain for that.

“Maybe we should all rest,” said Ariel. “If we’re going to go somewhere else after dark.”

“Good idea,” said Wolruf.

Derec closed his eyes. He heard Wolruf pad away, presumably to relax in a spot of her choosing.

“I was planning to go out again to seek a food source,” said Mandelbrot, “but I now consider it too risky. All of you can remain healthy through the day without sustenance. When we travel at night, we may find food in some way. Is this acceptable?”

“Sure,” Derec muttered, without opening his eyes.

“All right,” said Ariel.

“You know,” Jeff said slowly, “I have plenty of supplies on board the Minneapolis. I didn’t realize food was a problem for you. The only question is how to get it.”

“I doubt it’s a simple question,” said Ariel. “It must be well guarded by now.”

They could have dismantled it by now, Derec thought, but he was too exhausted to speak up.

“Perhaps we can look into this,” said Mandelbrot. “Though the risk is very high.”

“How about a review of the whole situation?” Jeff asked. “I never did know the origin of this place. Would you mind giving me the entire story? We apparently have the rest of the day.”

“You know, Jeff,” said Ariel, “you really don’t have to get mixed up in this. If we can get you back on board your ship, you can get out of here again.”

“I’m ready to help.”

“I don’t think we can ask you to do that.” She lowered her voice. “You haven’t heard what Dr. Avery has done to Derec.”

“I’m staying,” Jeff said firmly. “I came here to repay a debt. Since you don’t need help getting off the planet anymore, I’ll repay it with help you do need.”

“Maybe you should know what you’re getting involved in before you decide.”

“Go ahead,” said Jeff. “But I’m staying, period.”

Derec drifted off to sleep to the sound of Ariel’s voice recounting their story.

Chapter 10

THE MINNEAPOLIS

HE AWOKE AGAIN, much later, as strong arms slid under him and lifted him. “What’s happening?” His throat was rough and dry. He cleared it, opening his eyes.

Mandelbrot was carrying him to the back of the truck.

“Time to go, huh?” Derec smiled weakly as he settled onto the truck bed.

“We’re all here,” said Ariel, next to him. “Mandelbrot’s in charge so far. Ready?”

“Sure. Where are we going?”

“We’re going after my supplies,” said Jeff.

“What?” Derec struggled to sit up, looking at them in surprise. “That’s a perfect trap. What’s the plan?”

“We don’t have one yet,” said Ariel. “Mandelbrot couldn’t get any information about the ship through the central computer without giving himself away, so we don’t know what kind of security it has around it or anything.”

“I don’t like this at all,” said Derec. He turned to Mandelbrot, who was pushing the button on the wall to open the door. “Mandelbrot, this sounds like walking into a trap to me. Have you considered that?”

“Yes.” Mandelbrot hurried back to the cab of the truck as the door began to open into a Robot City twilight.

“You have? Then why are we doing this?”

“The plan is flexible. All I intend to do now is take an evasive route back to the landing site for observation. We will not take unnecessary risks.”

“Well... okay.” Derec sat back against the wall of the truck. If he could just feel better, he could be more persuasive. Or help make plans. It was just so hard to concentrate.

The truck rolled out onto the empty street. The robot population seemed to be getting thinner all the time. That was good for his purposes, Derec thought, but the mysteries remained. What was the purpose of the robot assembly points... and where was Dr. Avery?

Robot City had street lights, but they were not as bright or as frequent as in other cities. The robots’ superior vision made more light unnecessary. The entire planet was a city of technological marvels and striking robotic capabilities.

“What did Avery get from your father?” Derec asked suddenly. “He’s called Professor Leong? What have we seen in this city that Professor Leong provided?”

“I haven’t seen anything like that,” said Jeff. “He was talking about culture. I’ve seen science, technology, and architecture taken to new heights, but that’s all.”

“The play,” said Ariel. “We had the robots do Hamlet here after you left. That is, Derec chose it but the robots were ready for it. Some of them were involved with robot creativity.”

“The arts,” said Derec. “Of course. And maybe a system of ethics beyond the Laws of Robotics —”

“The Laws of Humanics they used to talk about,” Ariel said excitedly. “Some of this crazy stuff is starting to make sense now.”

“Instead of being just oddities.” Derec nodded. “Robots are too logical to leave a lot of loose ends.”

“Rrobot creativity,” said Wolruf. “Came at ssame time Dr. Averry returrned to Robot City.”

“That’s right,” said Ariel. “And now, after he’s apparently reprogrammed all the robots, there’s no sign of it.”

“The creative impulse caused too much trouble,” said Derec. “But originally, he programmed some artistic abilities into his robots. Jeff, does this fit what you remember?”

“That’s along the right line, yeah. And I remember now that he had one interest in particular.”

“Really? What was it?”

“Cultures that could endure.”

“Endure,” said Derec. “You mean like republics and empires and so on? Dynasties and stuff like that?”

Jeff shook his head in the darkening light as the truck slowed for an intersection, then speeded up again.

“Cultures. They generally outlast politics. They evolve in response to politics and economics and technology, but they have lives of their own. My father called them the sum of all the disciplines.”

The truck came to a halt, drawing their attention. Derec looked out and saw that they had stopped on an overpass. The bright twinkling lights of Robot City stretched in all directions, implying the shapes of buildings and streets by their patterns in swooping curves and mighty blocks and spiraling towers and a fully reliable grid on the ground.

“Down there,” said Jeff. “That’s the boulevard I landed on, running parallel with this one. See between those buildings there?”

“I see it,” said Ariel. “Just barely.”

“I dare not take the truck any closer,” said Mandelbrot, standing in the open cab to face them. “I can approach it on foot and survey the security measures.”

“Hold it,” said Derec. “If they left it just sitting there, it has to be a trap. Mandelbrot, that means they’re ready for you, too, in some way. They wouldn’t leave bait like that just waiting to be flown away.”

“Too bad we can’t move it,” said Jeff.

“Wait a minute,” said Ariel. “Maybe Mandelbrot can communicate with its computer.”

“I doubt they left the ship operational,” said Derec. “That doesn’t make sense, either.”

“Unless they’re overconfident of their security measures,” said Jeff. “Mandelbrot, if you want to try, it’s a ten-passenger Hayashi-Smith named Minneapolis. It’s non-positronic but it’s smart enough to handle the flight instructions I give it, which are pretty general. That’s about all I know about it.”

“I am currently trying standard frequencies,” said Mandelbrot. “The customary range is small. No response.”

“Good,” said Derec.

“What?” Ariel demanded.

“Maybe we have a chance after all.”

“What do you mean?” Jeff asked.

“If we’re lucky, the only way they disabled the ship was to disconnect the computer. Mandelbrot, your comlink can send out the same impulses it did.”

“I might be able to start the ship,” said Mandelbrot, “but I can’t fly it from here. The boulevard is too narrow and I’m not familiar with the ship itself.”

“I can’t ‘elp ‘u, eitherr,” said Wolruf apologetically. “Can navigate, but giving orrders to Mandelbrot takess too long for shuttle takeoff. And ‘ave no line of sight from herr, eitherr.”

“We don’t have to fly it,” said Derec. “The boulevard goes straight. All we have to do is get it away from their security long enough to get inside and grab the supplies.”

“The robots would know that,” said Jeff. “Don’t you think they must have accounted for that somehow?”

“Maybe,” said Derec. “But remember how logical this place is. The Hunters don’t have much experience with devious thinking.”

“They were programmed by a paranoid,” Ariel pointed out.

“It’s worth a shot,” said Derec.

“I believe I can make it go straight,” said Mandelbrot. “I suggest, however, that we first take the truck to the rendezvous site so that we are waiting when it arrives. It will not take the Hunters long to catch up with it.”

Derec’s heart was pounding with excitement, and the adrenaline seemed to be loosening up his muscles.

He grinned. “Let’s go!”

Mandelbrot drove the truck a much longer time than Derec had expected, but the distance he covered made sense. The fifteen kilometers the ship would travel down the boulevard to reach them was virtually nothing to it, even in its shuttle mode. Mandelbrot pulled the truck into a side street and brought it close to the intersection with the boulevard. Then he stopped the truck and sat motionless.

“I guess he’s concentrating,” said Ariel.

“They ought to rename this street Minneapolis Boulevard,” said Jeff, grinning. “If this works, anyhow.”

Derec was tingling with excitement. “Wolruf, when you and Mandelbrot are both inside, you can fly this thing, right?”

“Rright. “A slash of street light cut across her face as she gave a nod and a caninoid grin.

“Here it comes,” said Jeff.

A high, even whine was coming toward them in the distance, growing louder as Derec listened. They sat motionless, unable to see around the corner of the nearest building. Only Mandelbrot was visible, and Derec watched his dark, motionless profile as the sound grew louder.

Soon the sound was almost deafening. The ship pulled into view in the intersection, seeming to loom over them in the garish light and deep shadows, both huge and wonderful. Then it stopped.

Mandelbrot stood up and turned to help Derec out of the truck. The others took it as a signal to climb out themselves and run for the waiting ship.

Mandelbrot picked up Derec under one arm to save time by carrying him. At the robot’s command, the door opened ahead of them and the ladder slid to the ground. Derec looked down the boulevard as Mandelbrot ran with him.

A crowd of robots was rushing toward them in the far distance. Hunters were running along the moving slidewalks. Function robots of various sizes and shapes were rolling and driving down the boulevard.

They constituted the surprise element of the trap, now neutralized by the stealing of the bait.

The function robots did not have positronic brains to think with, but they could follow orders from the Hunters to move in paths that would block or even ram the ship and the truck. The fastest of them were coming on rapidly.

Mandelbrot set Derec down on the highest rung of the ladder that he could reach. Derec’s foot slipped on the ladder. As he clung to the ladder with another nervous glance at the oncoming rush, he felt Mandelbrot take him under his arms and lift him. Mandelbrot climbed the ladder, holding Derec up until he could deposit him inside the ship. Jeff and Ariel pulled him to one side as the robot entered last.

Wolruf was already in the navigator’s seat looking at the override controls. The ladder retracted and the door closed as Mandelbrot took the pilot’s seat.

“Straight on down boulevarrd,” said Wolruf. “Space is enough forr takeoff.”

Mandelbrot was reaching for the manual controls. “These will be safer than risking comlink control.

Everyone, please strap in.”

“We’re all strapped into seats,” said Jeff. “I’m sure glad you can do this. All I can do is tell the computer what I want.”

Just as the ship began to move forward, a heavy thump struck the rear of the ship. The impact was faint but clearly noticeable.

“Damage insignificant,” said Wolruf.

The ship was picking up speed. Another crash against the rear of the ship swayed it crookedly for a moment before Mandelbrot brought it back into line. A horrible screeching sound raked along the left side.

“They can’t do much,” said Derec. “The First Law won’t let the Hunters order anything that might cause a crash. They must know by now they can’t stop the ship without knocking us out of control.”

“Hope you’re right,” Jeff said grimly, as another thump shook the rear of the ship.

That was the last one, however. The ship had left the last of the function robots behind and was angling steeply into the air.

Chapter 11

IN ORBIT

“I HAVE CHOSEN to go into a low orbit,” said Mandelbrot. “This ship does. not carry large amounts of fuel for shuttle mode and it will be needed for landing here and also for Jeff’s eventual trip away from the planet. However, as long as we are off the surface of the planet, we are safe from the robots of Robot City.”

“That’s a relief,” said Derec. “Unless they’ve developed a space program we don’t know about.”

“The navigational sensorrs indicate no ssign of that,” said Wolruf. “Suggesst I take manual controls. Mandelbrot can reconnect ship computerr.”

“Agreed,” said Mandelbrot.

“The First Law won’t let them shoot us down or anything like that,” said Ariel. “But they can monitor us, can’t they? And have a welcoming committee anywhere we land?”

Mandelbrot now had a panel open by the controls and was studying the interior. “This craft is small and its shuttle mode offers high maneuverability. We should be able to land with an evasive pattern that will make our site unpredictable until the last few seconds.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Jeff. “This planet is never dull, is it?”

“No,” said Derec, “but it hasn’t always been this dangerous, either. One time we had to solve a human murder, and another time we had to solve the apparent murder of a robot. But it’s only recently that we’ve been anyone’s target.”

Jeff laughed. “Last time I was here, they took my brain out of my head and stuck it in a robot. That struck me as dangerous.”

Ariel laughed. Derec grinned in spite of the pain in his ribs when he started to laugh. Even Wolruf glanced back over her shoulder with an amused look.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” said Ariel. “And thanks again for coming back, even if it was under mistaken assumptions.”

Derec felt a twinge of jealousy but said nothing. Now that the crisis was over, his body was stiffening up rapidly again. He reclined in his seat and felt the adhesions snapping in his back.

“I believe this connection is now sufficient,” said Mandelbrot. “Jeff, will you test the Voice Command?”

“Hayashi-Smith Minneapolis ship computer,” said Jeff. “Please acknowledge.”

“STANDING BY,” said the computer.

“Can you assume flight duties?”

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

“Do so, maintaining status quo.”

“FLIGHT DUTY ASSUMED.”

“Also record the following voices into your Voice Command and prepare to follow any of them.” Jeff nodded to the others.

Each of them spoke in turn to the computer.

“What’s our next move?” Derec asked. “We’re safe for the moment, but we aren’t any closer to Dr. Avery, are we?”

“We know a little more about his aims for Robot City,” said Ariel. “Based on Professor Leong’s knowledge of him.”

“But we haven’t turned that into a clue to his location,” said Derec. “Mandelbrot, any ideas?”

“One, Derec,” said the robot. “Computer. Scan for any sign of large-scale crop growth or organic chemical stores.”

“SCANNING,” said the computer.

“Dr. Avery’s food source may not be in a quantity or storage facility that we can locate from here,” said Mandelbrot, with a humanlike shrug. “It is only a possibility.”

“Are carbon compounds used for anything else here?” Jeff asked, looking around at everyone. “Besides that hospital place I was in, or whatever you called it.”

“I’m not sure,” said Derec.

“We are safe in saying that the amounts are quite small,” said Mandelbrot. “In addition, the amount of food required for a single human is small, as well. Our best hope of finding a source in quantity is the chance that Dr. Avery may wish to extend his interest in culture to the art of cuisine.”

“Or at least, maybe he wants better food than those chemical processors give you,” said Ariel. “Fresh produce, maybe.”

“Hey! Speaking of which,” said Jeff, “what did we grab this ship for in the first place? Come on, let’s eat. Ariel, the compartment’s next to you.”

Jeff distributed rations to everyone but Mandelbrot, even locating some items Wolruf could tolerate.

“EXTENSIVE AGRICULTURAL GROWTH LOCATED,” said the computer. “COMING ON SCREEN.”

“Close-up,” ordered Mandelbrot. “Identify if possible.”

Everyone watched the screen. A tiny dark spot rapidly grew into a green rectangle. That rectangle, a moment later, was clearly a quilt of many different shades of green. On extreme close-up, the shapes of the plants came clear.

“MANY CROPS ARE PRESENT. THEY INCLUDE CORN, SORGHUM, WHEAT, AND BEETS. AT FIRST SCAN, AURORAN STRAINS OF EARTH-NATIVE PLANTS PREDOMINATE. MANY CROPS ARE UNIDENTIFIABLE AT THIS HEIGHT AND ANGLE.”

“Maybe the robots bred some of them themselves;’ said Ariel. “Or they’re native here.”

“Pull back the view,” said Mandelbrot. “Show the surrounding geography.”

The view drew back to show the spine of a mountain range. It was geologically old, exhibiting the gentle edges and curves of long erosion. The range was fully forested but occasionally dotted with buildings.

The agricultural park was nestled in a high-altitude valley within the mountain range itself.

“It’s not city,” said Jeff. “It’s the first place I’ve seen since coming back that isn’t all built up.”

“Us, too,” said Ariel.

“The robots are probably using the forests for lumber and the slopes for industrial power or something,” said Derec. “They don’t generally let anything go to waste. But those crops are all food. I think this is it. Mandelbrot?”

“The probability is extremely high that this is a human food source. We must investigate it. I remind everyone that Dr. Avery himself is not necessarily present.”

“It’s a start,” said Jeff. “Now what?”

“First we must find a place to land,” said Mandelbrot. ‘These mountains are unsuitable. Second, I suggest that Wolruf and I scout the location alone. Third, the safest place for the rest of you to wait is in the air.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Jeff. “You can use your comlink to reach us when necessary, and we can fly this thing ourselves again now.”

“Derec?” Ariel asked.

“Yeah, okay.” He shifted uncomfortably, angry that he couldn’t participate more. Still, this plan was simple enough.

“Computer,” said Mandelbrot. “Scan for landing sites as close to the crop field as possible.”

“CURRENTLY OUT OF VISUAL RANGE,” said the computer. “SCANNING WILL BEGIN WITH THE NEXT ORBITAL PASS.”

“We’ll need multiple sites,” said Mandelbrot. ‘The Hunters will undoubtedly secure the first one after we’ve used it.”

“Computer,” said Derec, with effort. “Don’t allow our orbital route to give away our interest in that area.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED.”

Derec collapsed again. He wasn’t sleepy, but he was worn out. The short period of excitement had revitalized him, but now he was paying the price.

Everyone seemed to be unwinding from their escape in the ship. Derec lay with his eyes closed and he heard someone switch out the light directly over him. The darkness on his lids was a relief.

No one spoke for some time. Then, quietly, he heard the computer again.

“NEAREST LANDING SITES TO AGRICULTURAL PARK COMING ON SCREEN AS FOLLOWS: FIVE WITHIN FIVE-KILOMETER RADIUS; TWO MORE WITHIN TEN KILOMETERS; THREE MORE WITHIN TWENTY KILOMETERS.”

“Are any of them in relatively uninhabited areas? Especially away from urban streets?” Mandelbrot asked.

“DISPLAYING THE FIVE CLOSEST SITES. THESE ARE THE ONLY SITES NOT USING CITY PAVEMENT.”

Derec forced his eyes open. He hated feeling left out.

“It’s an ocean,” said Jeff, in surprise.

“A stretch of beach,” said Ariel.

As they watched, five separate areas of beach on the screen were colored lightly by the computer.

“THESE SITES REPRESENT STRETCHES OF SAND LONG ENOUGH AND FIRM ENOUGH FOR A SAFE LANDING,” said the computer.

“For the purpose of evading the Hunters, this might as well be one landing site,” said Mandelbrot.

“When they see the first, they will find the others.”

“We’ll have to take the chance,” said Derec. “We’ll drop off you and Wolruf as fast as we can and take off again. Then we’ll go back into orbit until we hear from you.”

“Or until your fuel level reaches minimum,” said Mandelbrot. “I will alert the computer to warn you when you must land.”

Derec closed his eyes again.

“All right,” said Jeff.

“Computer,” said Mandelbrot. “On the next orbit, take an evasive route down to the first of the landing sites. Avoid revealing our destination as long as you can.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED.”

Most of the next orbit was uneventful, but Derec found the evasive maneuvers extremely unpleasant. The ship descended, turned as sharply as it could, ascended again, turned again. Each change shifted his weight and pressed his aching muscles. None of the others seemed to notice.

The changes began to include speed as the ship worked its crooked way down toward the planet.

Derec gripped the strap holding him in both hands and clenched his teeth against the pain shooting through his back. Finally the descent smoothed out and he realized they were about to land.

The ship landed on a surface that listed somewhat to the left and halted so suddenly that everyone was thrown forward against their restraining straps. The door opened automatically and the ladder extended.

Mandelbrot and Wolruf were ready to go. Moments later, the door closed again and the ship waited briefly for them to get a safe distance from the ship.

“PREPARED FOR LIFT-OFF AS ORDERED,” said the computer. “PLEASE INSTRUCT.”

“Return to the same altitude we just left,” said Jeff. “Uh, use evasive pattern and take a different orbit when we get there.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED.”

The acceleration pressed Derec back against his seat again. He closed his eyes, resigned to the ride, and lay still.

Chapter 12

DESERTED STREETS

MANDELBROT AND WOLRUF ran straight up the beach. The sand was pale blue and packed hard all the way to the line where the ground cover began. There they climbed up the dip between two high, rounded, grassy dunes.

“Careful,” said Mandelbrot. ‘The Hunters will be on their way here already.”

Wolruf nodded.

They moved cautiously over the next rise and Mandelbrot found the edge of the urban area. The dunes were bordered by a curving boulevard. Ahead of them, a smaller street stretched away from them, lined with buildings on both sides.

“No one is ‘err,” said Wolruf.

The streets were deserted in all directions.

“We will be very easy to spot here,” said Mandelbrot. “I have no crowd to get lost in and you are now on the Hunters’ list.”

“Should move.”

Mandelbrot looked toward the mountains that loomed over them slightly to the left. “The valley itself is no farther than five kilometers, but the mountains begin much closer. The greatest danger to us is crossing the city to reach them.”

“Greatest danger to us iss waiting ‘err,” said Wolruf.

“Agreed. Let’s go.” Mandelbrot started across the boulevard, striding at a pace that was fast but dignified.

No robots were visible in either direction. On the first city block, they stayed near the edges of the buildings themselves and glanced inside any doorways or windows that offered a view. The city was functioning here without humanoid robots.

“Assembly points,” said Wolruf. “Robots ‘err have already lefft.” She glanced behind them, over her shoulder. “‘Unterss could come from any direction.”

“A tunnel stop would help us considerably,” said Mandelbrot. “If we stay on this street we will encounter one, if they were built with the same frequency in this area as in the area we are familiar with.”

He paused to look inside a window. Inside, function robots were scuttling about on their duties.

“Maybe they didn’t build any ‘err at all,” said Wolruf as she trotted alongside to keep up.

“That is possible. If this portion of the city is built on sand, then tunneling is more difficult. However, these robots do not seem to factor difficulty into their considerations.”

“Therr,” Wolruf said emphatically, pointing ahead.

A humanoid robot was just disappearing from sight around a corner ahead of them.

Mandelbrot reached down to lift Wolruf, and began to run — not at full speed, but quickly enough to make up some ground.

“Careful,” said Wolruf, clutching him around the neck.

“I believe that a Hunter this close to us would have come in this direction,” said Mandelbrot. “However, I do not want to contact any robot without the chance to observe the situation first. Pursuit is the only recourse.”

A moment later, they turned the corner after the other robot. He was now riding a slidewalk, standing still as it carried him parallel to the mountain range. Mandelbrot hurried to the slidewalk and then walked slowly after him once they were on it.

“I think I understand,” he said quietly. “Either this humanoid cannot be replaced here by function robots, or else he is one of the last, possibly the very last, in this area to follow his migration programming.”

“If that iss the case, we should forget about ‘im,” said Wolruf. “Go to the mountains and ‘ide from ‘unters. Find Avery.”

“We will be safer taking evasive action than simply racing the Hunters to the mountains. In fact, we should avoid indicating to them what our destination is, if possible. I am hoping to find a group of humanoid robots to observe so that we can imitate their actions without being witnessed by them.”

“Too late,” said Wolruf, looking back over his shoulder. “‘Err come ‘unters.”

Mandelbrot turned to look. One humanoid, clearly a Hunter by his size and sensors, was riding a distant slidewalk toward the landing site.

“Good. They intend to pick up our trail at the beach. That gives us a little more time.” Mandelbrot set Wolruf on her feet. “I will try to manage among the robots. See if you can reach the agricultural park. I will attempt to meet you there.”

Wolruf hissed a kind of agreement and hopped off the slidewalk. Then she darted away.

Mandelbrot considered a number of options for himself instantly and chose one. He sent a distress alert to the robot ahead of him through his comlink.

“I am in need of assistance,” he said.

The other robot turned to face him, then stepped onto the stationary shoulder to wait for Mandelbrot.

“What is wrong?”

“I am on the verge of physically shutting down.” That was true; Mandelbrot neglected to say that it was voluntary. “Please take me to the nearest repair facility. Report me as a malfunctioned robot, failure unknown.”

“Agreed.”

Mandelbrot froze in place but kept his positronic brain functioning. He had deliberately avoided identifying himself.

This robot was complying with Mandelbrot’s request under a subtle but real compulsion. The Third Law of Robotics required robots to avoid harm to themselves through action or inaction but did not specifically require them to keep other robots from harm. However, in the robot society of Robot City, Mandelbrot had observed that such cooperation was common. Perhaps it was even programmed. In any case, he knew he could count on another robot’s help, at least in the absence of more pressing problems.

The robot stepped back onto the slidewalk next to him. Apparently the nearest repair facility was in this direction. At least it would offer a kind of camouflage from the Hunters since he would not just be wandering around by himself or, worse, with a highly recognizable caninoid alien.

He hoped Wolruf could make it to the mountains. She was still of no interest to most robots, though they could act as witnesses to her presence and her direction for the Hunters. In the forested mountains she would have a better chance.

At present, the Hunters would almost certainly be tracking them by infrared heat sensors. When they had followed Mandelbrot and Wolruf to the point where they had mounted the slidewalk, they would ride it while scanning the shoulder for the spot or spots where their quarry had gotten off again. He rode on.

Finally the other robot lifted him and stepped off the slidewalk. This kept Mandelbrot’s robot body heat off the ground; the Hunters would not be able to detect where he had left the slidewalk. However, they would be on Wolruf’s trail without a problem.

Wolruf trotted down the empty sidewalk, alert on all sides for the sight, sound, or scent of humanoid robots. The city here was as striking as ever; she passed a gigantic, many-faceted dome glittering in the sunshine, a spiraling jade-green skyscraper that resembled loosely twisted ribbons frozen in midfall, and a multitude of combined pyramidal, hexagonal, and conical shapes. The quiet hum of machinery and the occasional function robots moving about told her that the city was still active here.

The absence of humanoids was eerie. The city was just too big and elaborate to seem normal with deserted streets and nearly vacant buildings. She felt exposed.

Wolruf grinned to herself as she turned corners, circled blocks, doubled back, and then moved on, always working her way closer to the mountains that were so invitingly close. As a navigator, she was no stranger to evasive maneuvers. She had not usually conducted them on foot, however, or been limited to one plane.

She was not certain how successful these maneuvers would be. If the Hunters possessed heat sensors that could consistently choose the warmest trail, then she was not going to confuse them by crisscrossing her path. Instead, she was just wasting time and letting them get closer. After she had done a little more of that, she resorted to a zigzag pattern that angled her toward the mountains more quickly.

When she reached the edge of the city, she stopped to consider her next move. A long boulevard lined the base of the first foothill; beyond it, the forest began. If she could disguise her point of entry into the mountains, it would help her a great deal.

She hopped onto the slidewalk that ran down the side of the boulevard, looking around. The Hunters could be right behind her or a long way back; she had no way of knowing without risking them seeing her. She could be sure, however, that they were coming with that inexorable robot logic and single-mindedness.

Nor could she ride here indefinitely; she could be seen easily by anyone looking down the straightaway.

She jumped off again.

What she needed was a mobile function robot she could ride across the boulevard, or anything else that would keep moving after she left it, so that the traces of her body heat would be carried away. With an anxious glance behind her, she turned a corner and looked down the street.

It was empty.

Time was growing short. She would either have to find a way to break her trail, or else leave a track into the mountains that any Hunter could follow.

She started down the street, peering inside any windows she could reach.

“ORBIT ATTAINED,” said the ship computer. “PLEASE INSTRUCT.”

“Maintain altitude,” said Jeff. “Vary the route at random.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED.”

Jeff turned to look at Derec. He was reclining in his seat, eyes closed, jaw clenched. Jeff unstrapped and moved over to him.

“What is it?” Ariel asked.

“These seats convert into berths. If you’ll unstrap him, I’ll get the seat all the way down flat. Then flexible privacy walls pull down from the ceiling.”

“I see.”

They worked in silence, watching Derec. He was clearly awake, but in no mood to converse. When he was lying down comfortably, Jeff pulled down the walls, leaving one open just enough for him to see out if he wished.

Jeff and Ariel sat down in the two control seats in the front.

“Can we do anything for him?” Jeff asked.

“No,” Ariel whispered.

He looked at her in surprise.

Her eyes were wide and staring at the blank viewscreen on the console.

“Ariel? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t respond.

He took hold of her arm, gently, and moved his face in front of her unwavering gaze. “Ariel. Can you see me?”

Her eyes were steady, open, and beginning to water.

Jeff felt a tickle of fear along the back of his neck. Ariel had told him something of the chemfets in Derec and her memory loss and regrowth. However, he had had the impression that she was getting much better. Now he was alone in orbit with both of them and didn’t know if he should try to help or what he could do.

“Computer,” he said. “Review landing sites. Skip the ones on the beach. They’ll be guarded.”

“LANDING SITES COMING ON SCREEN.”

“Which one is the closest to the crops now?”

“IT IS MARKED IN BLUE.”

“Can you describe it?”

“IT IS A MAIN THOROUGHFARE IN THIS PART OF THE CITY, STRAIGHT AND OF SUFFICIENT SIZE FOR A SAFE LANDING. THE SHIP WILL HALT APPROXIMATELY 6.4 KILOMETERS FROM THE AGRICULTURAL FIELD.”

“What are the chances that Hunters will be waiting for us when we get there?”

“UNKNOWN, BUT VERY HIGH. THEY ARE CERTAINLY IN THE AREA AND WILL SEE AND HEAR THE SHIP ON ITS FINAL APPROACH. IF THEY ARE NOT WAITING, THEY WILL CONVERGE QUICKLY.”

“Faster than last time?”

“DEFINITELY.”

Jeff looked at Ariel again. She hadn’t moved. Behind them, Derec seemed to be asleep. Neither of them would run very far.

Chapter 13

INTO THE MOUNTAINS

WOLRUF HAD BEEN trotting up and down the blocks, growing more frantic in her search for a moving vehicle of some kind. Inside the buildings, most machinery ran smoothly without even the presence of function robots. Finally she spotted a small wheeled function robot rolling at a good clip along a side street.

She took off at a dead run for it. Oblivious to her, it turned a corner and disappeared from sight. By the time she got there, it had gained more distance on her and was angling across a wide street. None of the slidewalks would take her that way.

She was slowing down, about to give up, when it abruptly changed direction toward a doorway. The door opened automatically, timed so that the function robot did not have to slow down at all. She forced herself to hurry on.

Wolruf was not in particularly good condition. Since joining Derec, she had been starved on several occasions, overfed on others, injured, and — like all of them except Mandelbrot — sometimes overworked and stressed to her limit. She was now basically healthy, but she had not had exercise like this for a long time.

Then she saw the function robot emerge from the doorway and zip across the boulevard again. It mounted a slidewalk this time and actually came back toward her. Panting heavily, she turned and ran for the slidewalk, angling toward a likely intersection point with it as it rolled along the moving slidewalk.

She got a better look at it as she converged on it. It was only about a meter square and two meters high.

The wheels, as she had first identified them, proved to be a bed of spheres that gave it the capacity to alter direction without turning its body.

The body of the little robot was smooth and featureless. Wolruf had no chance of catching it if it passed her again, considering how exhausted she was. As she closed with it, she leaped, scrabbled for a hold, and managed to hang on.

The robot immediately slowed down. It did not stop, however, so she clung to its body and rode. At least her body heat had left the stationary surfaces on the ground. Now she had to catch her breath and hope this thing didn’t carry her right into the view of a Hunter.

She realized that she had no idea what this was programmed to do. From its size and what she had seen, she guessed it was a courier of some sort, perhaps for small parts and tools. That might account for its slowing down in response to her weight, but not otherwise reacting. Right now, though, it was taking her away from the mountains that she desperately wanted to enter.

Suddenly it moved onto the stationary shoulder, slowed down, and came to a halt. She looked around, puzzled, and saw nothing. Then it started across the street.

She raised up and looked off to her side, which was now the way they were going. A large Hunter robot was striding down another slidewalk toward them. When it had seen her, it had obviously instructed the function robot to move toward it.

Wolruf jumped off the function robot and ran the other way, turning the first corner she reached. A slidewalk here would carry her in the direction she wanted, so she mounted it and went into a trot. At the next corner, she jumped off and turned another corner. The Hunter could move faster than she could, and she was tiring rapidly even after her brief rest riding the courier, or whatever that thing had been.

She had only moments left to think of something.

With no other recourse, she headed straight for the mountains, only a few blocks away. Another slidewalk would help, though of course the Hunter could ride it, too. As the boulevard bordering the foothills came into view, she looked behind her.

The Hunter was in full view and running down the moving slidewalk toward her.

She glanced quickly in both directions as she crossed the boulevard. The street was empty as far as she could see on both sides. Then she was across it, darting among the trunks of tall trees.

She climbed the slope as fast as she could, ducking under branches and dodging bushes. The forest showed signs of the careful Robot City planning: The types of trees and bushes varied with a certain regularity, as did their sizes. Planting had been done with the long view in mind, both of harvesting and of soil usage.

As she bent low to pass under the arching branches of a large bush shaped something like a simple water fountain, she realized that she just might gain some ground here. Her size was a considerable advantage in the close maze of growth. As far as she had seen, the Hunters were uniformly among the tallest and bulkiest of the humanoid robots.

If only she could gain enough time to rest.

Derec awakened in the berth, at first puzzled by his surroundings. Then he remembered, vaguely, that Jeff and Ariel had somehow reclined his seat into an entirely flat position so that he could rest more comfortably. He lay quietly for a while, staring at the ceiling.

Thankfully, he had not experienced any of those wild dreams in some time. Their weirdness was frightening. Yet he felt worn out, even after sleeping.

Maybe he had been having those nightmares and not remembering them. The chemfets were growing inside him like an organic parasite. Their symptoms also evolved, like those of a disease. Not having those dreams, or at least not remembering them, was yet another sign of how far beyond the early stages his condition had advanced.

He reached over to one of the screens and sent it back up into the ceiling. When he rose up on one shoulder to look around, he saw the silhouettes of Jeff and Ariel in the front of the ship. They were turning around at the sound of the wall screens moving.

“Derec?” Ariel said softly. “How are you feeling?”

He cleared his throat and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hiding the pains in all his muscles.

“Derec?” She repeated, moving to him.

“A little better,” said Derec. He started to stand, then decided not to take the risk of falling.

“I had one of my... memory fugues again.”

“Really? How bad was it?” He looked up at her in surprise. “You haven’t had one for some time.”

“I don’t know how bad it was.”

“What?”

“Jeff told me I was just staring at nothing. And I don’t remember it at all.”

“Maybe you phased back to the time before I had your new memory developing again. Right into that empty period. Anyhow, it’s over.” He sighed. “As for me, my symptoms have been... changing.”

She looked at him without speaking.

Derec knew she understood that meant he was getting worse.

“We have to land,” said Jeff, joining them. “I can’t do anything for either one of you if... if something happens again.”

“Then you’ve heard from Mandelbrot?” Derec asked.

“No. We haven’t. But our fuel is running low.”

“All we’re using here is enough for life support,” said Ariel.

“And for evasive changes in direction. Landing and takeoff will also use a lot.” Derec nodded. “All right.

Do you have any plan of action?”

“Yeah, but it’s not very good. Basically, we land on one of the big boulevards the ship computer has identified as a site and drive this thing to the edge of the mountains. Then we run for it.”

“I’m... not going to be running very fast.”

Jeff nodded.

“And the central computer can study our final approach and tell the Hunters where we’re likely to land.”

“The Hunters will be waiting at the landing site,” Ariel agreed. “But we can gain some ground on them by taxiing in the ship right to the foothills.”

“And then?” Derec said pointedly.

Jeff and Ariel just looked at each other.

“All right,” said Derec. “We can’t stay up here. We’ll have to take our chances.”

Wolruf darted under another of those thick, fountain-shaped bushes and paused to rest. She had had two glimpses of her pursuit down the slope; at least two Hunters were now behind her. Though her crooked path had made calculating distance difficult, she did not think they had gained ground on her.

She continued to study the ground around her, as she did when fleeing. Finally, here, she located what she had expected to find all along. The robots were too efficient and well-organized to cultivate a forest without them.

A small metal stud protruded from the ground in front of her. She studied it carefully, poking at it with her stubby, sausagelike fingers. Then she began to look around in the dirt again.

A high-pitched whine caught her attention. It was faint at first, but growing louder quickly, turning into a wail from the sky. Human ears could not have heard it at this distance, but she could, and that meant the robots easily could. She could not see upward clearly from the forest floor, but the sound of the Minneapolis in shuttle mode was unmistakable to her sensitive ears.

She waited, quivering with tension. As she listened, the ship obviously came to land safely somewhere in the urban area. Then it grew so faint that she wasn’t sure if it had stopped or not. After a moment, it began to grow louder again.

She understood that the humans had decided to risk getting to the crop field however they could. That meant she could help them, if the Hunters did not come upon her too soon. She finally located a small rock in the dirt around her and began striking it against the little metal post with glancing blows.

At first she couldn’t hit it at the right angle. Then, even after she had produced a few sparks, she found all of them flying away from the metal. Eventually, however, one of the sparks fell back onto the small metal post itself.

Instantly, one of the highly sensitive Robot City sensors responded to the heat by producing a fine spray of water, no more than a meter high. Greater heat would undoubtedly have triggered a stronger spray; however, this would be good enough for her purposes. The sprinklers would dampen the ground behind her, eliminating the body heat that the Hunters had been tracking.

She looked around, blinking against the spray. Other sprinklers near her had also been triggered, as far as she could see. As always, these robots had designed their system efficiently.

The Minneapolis had come to a halt some distance to her left, according to the sound, at the bottom of the foothills. She wanted to join the humans again, but did not dare. They could lose their pursuit now in the sprinkled area, but the Hunters behind her were too close. She might just lead them right to the others.

She took a deep breath and darted away from the bush, looking for rocks, roots, and other hard surfaces to step on. The Hunters could no longer follow her heat, but they could see footprints. She ran on up the slope, away from the crop field.

As Wolruf had surmised, the Minneapolis had landed safely at a site surrounded by Hunter robots and had successfully driven through the crowd down the boulevard straight to the base of the mountains. As soon as it had stopped, the door had opened and the ladder had extended. Jeff and Ariel were helping Derec out the door when he stopped on the top rung of the ladder.

“Hold it,” said Derec. “Ship computer!”

“STANDING BY.”

“You have a record of all the Hunters who were waiting for us at the landing site just a minute ago?”

“AFFIRMATIVE. ALL ROBOTS PRESENT AT THE SITE WERE RECORDED ON THE VIEWSCREEN TAPES.”

“Chase them,” said Derec. “As long as you can do so without endangering the ship. Pursue them up and down any boulevards big enough for you.”

“CLARIFY.”

“Make them think you’re going to run them down — in fact, do so if you can. The Third Law requires them to take care of themselves, so keep as many of them distracted and out of the mountains as you can. Got it?” Derec indulged in a grin

“ACKNOWLEDGED.”

“Let’s go.”

Jeff and Ariel walked on each side of him, holding his arms draped over their shoulders as they hurried awkwardly to the edge of the forested hills. All three of them had to watch the ground right in front of them and each other’s feet just to keep from stumbling.

“This is insane,” Derec said through his teeth. “We can’t even outrun an Auroran striped hastifer. How are we going to get away from the Hunters this way?”

“Better than a crash landing with no fuel for shuttle mode,” panted Jeff.

“It’s getting worse,” said Ariel. “Yuck. I’m getting wet. It must be raining.”

Derec jerked his head up and looked at the brush and trees around them. “Really? No, it’s not raining.... Look — sprinklers!” He grinned. “Sprinklers!”

“What —” Ariel paused to edge around the trunk of a tree, as she was still tangled in Derec’s arm.

“What are you so happy about?”

“The Hunters have been using heat sensors to track us. We have a chance now.”

“Mud,” said Jeff. He turned his head to one side and ducked under a branch. “That’s our next problem. We have to watch our footsteps or they’ll just follow those.”

Derec pulled his arm free from Ariel. “And I’ve got some adrenaline flowing again. I’m loosening up. Come on — as long as I’m really worked up, I can move.” He pulled away from Jeff, too, trying to hide the extreme pains he still felt.

Jeff studied his face. “Whatever you say. But if you really need help, say so, all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on.”

Jeff led the way up the slope. The forest grew thicker very quickly and then remained almost uniformly the same, probably the result of precise robot planting. Derec followed him, straining not to show how much difficulty he was having. Still, Jeff tended to gain on him, while Ariel was always moving up right behind him.

As Derec struggled on, one fact kept returning to his thoughts. Dr. Avery had done this to him — and Derec had never done anything to him. His anger served to fire him, to keep him moving, to force him onward. Dr. Avery would not escape.

Jeff stepped onto a ridge of white rock and stopped, breathing hard. Derec came up and joined him, but collapsed into a sitting position. Ariel stood next to him.

“That agricultural park, or whatever you want to call it, is that way,” said Jeff, nodding at an angle over the mountains. “According to the viewscreen, there are passes on each side of us.”

Derec looked up at him, but was too out of breath to speak. He just nodded.

“It looks like these rocks extend across this foothill for some distance,” Jeff went on. “They’ll take us toward either pass. I think we should stay on this ridge for as long as we can to avoid leaving footprints.”

“Maybe the ship really slowed down a few Hunters,” Ariel said when she had the breath.

“We can hope so,” said Jeff. “But we’d better get going.”

Derec struggled to get up. “Okay,” he said huskily.

They started again, more slowly this time.

Chapter 14

THE AGRICULTURAL PARK

TWILIGHT HAD FALLEN on the mountain pass by the time Derec plodded after Jeff and Ariel to its far side.

They waited for him to catch up and he leaned an arm across Ariel’s shoulders when he arrived.

Together, the three of them looked out over the green valley below.

The valley was divided into many different fields, all of them tended by function robots. The hoes were easily identified, even at this great distance. There were others moving about, some clipping and spraying.

The lower slopes leading into the valley were terraced and cultivated, also.

“This has to be the place,” said Derec. “Robots just don’t need this stuff.”

“I agree,” said Jeff. “This is Avery’s grocery store. Or at least, his produce market. If he has livestock, they must be somewhere else.”

“They would require different care and processing. “Derec nodded. “And these robots are too efficient to put this here and Avery a thousand kilometers away. I’m betting he’s in the neighborhood, someplace.”

“And we made it,” said Ariel. “This far, anyway.”

“We couldn’t help leaving a few footprints here and there,” said Jeff. “And those Hunter robots may have sensors I can’t even imagine. They don’t have to stop for the night, either.”

“They’ll spot all kinds of details we left behind,” said Derec. “Broken branches and things like that. As much as I hate to say this... we’d better move on.”

“Some of them probably went to the other pass,” Ariel pointed out. “There won’t be as many behind us.”

“That pass leads to this valley, too,” said Jeff. “We might just meet them coming the other way.”

Ariel shook her head. “You’re so optimistic. Come on.”

They started down the slope and soon entered the cultivated rows of some plant that none of them could identify. It grew in a straight stalk with stiff, narrow leaves angling sharply upward, roughly three meters high. The stalks were planted close together, forcing them to walk in single file between the rows.

Jeff looked back over his shoulder nervously. “We’re leaving a track even I could follow. Look down.”

Derec looked. The soil was freshly turned and damp. Their footprints were clear and deep. “These robots must hoe and water constantly.”

“It hasn’t gotten any darker,” said Ariel. She looked up at the sky. “It should have by now.”

“Lights must have come on,” Derec said. “I can’t tell from where, though. The function robots here may need some to work at night. Or else this is growth light of some kind for the crops.”

Jeff was pushing experimentally between two stalks in one of the rows. “Come on. We can squeeze between these. We have to break up our trail a little.”

The others followed him through. The next row was identical to the previous one as far as Derec could see. They walked down it for a while, then found another spot where they could push through into the next row down into the valley.

“Up there,” said Derec, pointing. “We have to catch it. Come on!”

Some distance ahead, a function robot was moving away from them at a moderate speed. The body of this robot was roughly a cube two meters on a side. It seemed to advance on a bed of vertical spikes that chewed into the ground as it walked forward, thereby hoeing the soil it covered. At intervals, it stopped and sent tentacles out to each side that stabbed into the earth in the rows of crops and pulled out small plants into its own body.

Jeff ran for it. As Ariel tried to help Derec along, he glanced at the rows of crops as they passed.

Apparently that stabbing motion cut the roots of unwanted plants that had grown up between the desired crops. The weeds were drawn into the function robot, ground up, and deposited through the bottom to be left behind as instant compost. He could see the tiny bits here and there in the soil now that he was looking.

“I got it but I don’t see any way to stop it,” Jeff called. He was now sitting on the body of the hoer, facing backward.

“Stupid thing,” said Ariel. “I wish it had a positronic brain so we could order it around.”

“No,” said Derec, struggling after her. “It could also report to the Hunters, in that case.”

The hoer would not wait for them, but every time it stopped to weed they gained on it a little. At last they were able to climb on board with Jeff, where they sat awkwardly on its crowded top.

“Now we just need some luck,” said Jeff. “If this thing stays out of the sight of the Hunters until it takes a few turns here and there, they won’t be able to track us easily after all. All the rows have the same appearance after these things go through them.”

“I can use the rest,” said Derec. “But we have to figure out where Avery is while we can. I didn’t see any buildings in this valley when we came in.”

“I didn’t either,” said Jeff, shaking his head.

“Then what else do you remember?” Ariel asked. “From your father? Anything.”

“I thought about it while we were climbing up the mountain,” said Jeff. “But I didn’t have breath to talk.

You remember how I told you that Avery wanted to know about cultures that could endure?”

Ariel nodded. Derec was alert but too tired to respond.

“My father told him that two groups exist even now, in space, that are descended in a straight line from ancient Earth. Both of them have continued to evolve in Spacer communities, but their longevity really got Avery’s attention.”

“What were they?” Ariel asked.

“One is the Spacer minority culture descended from China through a couple of migrations on Earth. The other is the Spacer Jewish communities.”

“What did he want to know about them?” Ariel made a face. “I don’t see how this is going to help us find him here.”

Jeff shrugged. “I do recall that he didn’t care about their details. My father tried to tell him that both these cultures had continued to evolve in space. He even said that in many ways they were totally unrecognizable from their ancestral Earth cultures. But all Avery wanted to know was how they had survived as specific entities.”

That was consistent, Derec thought to himself. The guy only cared about his own project and what he could do to improve it.

“He was looking for clues for Robot City,” Ariel said. “To make it endure across the centuries. That’s what he was researching with Professor Leong. He needed to program cultural values into the city. But we haven’t really seen very much of that.”

Derec forced himself to speak. “I’m sure that he reprogrammed the city while we were on Earth. I think after the incidents surrounding the performance of Hamlet, the robot creativity scared him. He couldn’t have his robots committing crimes against each other.”

“The arts aren’t the only part of culture,” said Jeff.

“What do you mean?” Ariel asked.

Derec shifted slightly so that he could hear Jeff better. The hoer moved right along, still hoeing and weeding. The sky above them now looked dark, but a soft glow of light from somewhere illuminated the rows of crops.

“My father gave Avery two reasons for the cultural survival of those groups while they were on Earth.

One is that the original cultures had very strong family units that passed values on. The other is that, outside of their native countries, both groups on Earth experienced limited assimilation as minorities and often faced prejudice from the majority culture.”

“But only on Earth?” Ariel said.

“That’s right. Modem Spacer families aren’t personally close the way families used to be, I guess. And now the ethnicities are from one planet to another, or Spacer versus Earth.”

“My mother didn’t like Solarians,” said Ariel. “They program their robots funny or something.” She smiled. “She told me a joke once that went —”

“How could Avery have used that information?” Derec asked firmly, stopping her with a hand on her arm.

“Come to think of it,” said Ariel, “how can these minorities still exist if the original reasons for their endurance no longer do? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not sure,” said Jeff. “But on Aurora, I still look different. That always kept me distinct. And, you know, my father took more interest in me than my friends’ fathers. That’s why he dragged me out to meet Avery, remember?”

“I think I see,” said Ariel. “Maybe some of these tendencies still exist to a degree.”

“At least in comparison to the majority cultures on the planet.” Jeff nodded.

They all clutched for a hold on the hoer as it reached a perpendicular row and made a right-angle turn without slowing down. It made another right turn at the next row and started down the direction it had just come on the previous one. They could see a long way ahead of them.

So could the Hunters, if they looked down the right row.

Derec was uncomfortable with this talk of families and fathers and sons. He hadn’t had any family to speak of since he had awakened with amnesia.

“We still have to find Avery in this valley or this mountain range or somewhere,” said Derec with annoyance. “What are we going to do about that?”

“Just one more thing,” said Jeff. “My father told Avery that two major events changed both these cultures in ancient times. One was moving from the so-called Old World of Earth to the United States.”

“What difference would that make?” Ariel asked. “They were still on Earth.”

“He said that while prejudice didn’t vanish there, these two cultures were part of a nation of immigrants and their descendants for the first time. They were a fundamental part of these societies even while maintaining their identities.”

“What was the other event?” She asked.

“Going into space. The same situation occurred again with the settling of Spacer worlds. Being an Auroran, say, is now more important than one’s Earth ancestors. As demonstrated by your mother’s attitude toward Solarians.”

Ariel nodded thoughtfully.

“So what does all this get us?” Derec demanded. “Robots never did have this kind of identity, anyhow.

What does this have to do with Robot City? And finding Dr. Avery?”

“Now, look!” Jeff whirled on him. “You’re the one who started asking me what I remember. I’m just telling you. If you don’t want to hear it, don’t ask me.”

Ariel grabbed both their arms. “Robots,” she whispered.

Far in the distance ahead of them, the silhouettes of humanoid robots were moving from right to left, down the valley slope, across their open row.

Wolruf gathered her legs under her and leaped from a small rock to a fallen branch large enough to hold her. She landed on it on all fours and hung on till she got her balance. This forest had very few fallen branches, or loose matter of any kind.

The robots obviously cleared the forest floor frequently. She had seen a few function robots in the distance but had kept clear of them. She didn’t want the Hunters sending any more orders to function robots that would help them capture her.

Still, she had managed to minimize the footprints she left behind. A fairly small area had been sprinkled by the sensor she had triggered and she had left it before the sprinklers quit operating. She wondered how long they had continued to run.

She hoped they had remained on for some time. If they had sprayed long enough, then the water eventually would not only have eliminated the body heat of her footprints on the ground, but also would have washed away the visual traces.

That and the difficulty the big Hunters would have in moving through the crowded forest might account for their falling behind. When they had lost her trail, they probably would have had to resort to a pattern search to pick it up again, and that would cost them time.

She stayed on the branch to catch her breath. Her memory of the terrain on the ship viewscreen was clear enough, but she wasn’t sure exactly where she was. Nor was she sure of what to do.

So far, she had been angling up the slope and away from the pass that the humans had been near, certain that they were heading there. Anything she could do to draw Hunters away from them would be a contribution. She also remembered that another pass led into the valley somewhere in this direction.

She was torn between two impulses, with no way to know which would better serve the cause of Derec’s getting to Avery before Avery’s robots got to him. If she got to the pass and joined the humans, they could work together as a team again and perhaps accomplish more. However, that would mean leading the Hunters following her right back toward them again.

This was not getting her anywhere.

She could not afford to rest anywhere too long, even now. After balancing along the fallen branch as far as she could, she jumped off to a patch of ground that looked firm. From there, she stepped on the top of an exposed tree root, grabbed a low-hanging branch, and swung over to a small rock.

Then she paused to look back, wondering if this was worth the effort. If the Hunters came up quickly, their heat sensors would tell them where she had been. Now, however, she was hoping that they were too far behind to use those sensors effectively. If the traces of her body heat subsided before they arrived, minimizing her visual track could be critical.

She continued to move along this way. It was a gamble, but probably worth it. If she could actually lose the Hunters, then she could look for the humans in the valley without endangering them further. In order to know, however, she would have to double back at some point and actually watch the Hunters in action.

That might be too risky. Still undecided, she fled on up the slope, still moving roughly in the direction of the pass. Once she got there, she could make her final decision on whether to enter it or not.

Chapter 15

MUGGINGS

SINCE THE HOER was moving down the row toward the humanoid robots, its passengers had no choice but to get off and go the other way. Derec was surprised that the robots had not looked down the row already and spotted them, but apparently they had not. As before, he followed Jeff and preceded Ariel, all three of them now crawling along the damp earth so that the body of the hoer would block them from view.

Before long, they reached the perpendicular row they had seen a short time before. It ran parallel with the one the humanoid robots were taking in single file to go farther down into the valley. Derec stopped there, breathing hard, unable to go on.

“Derec?” Ariel crawled up beside him. “Jeff, wait.”

Jeff looked back over his shoulder and then came back. He watched Derec for a minute and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. We can’t just stop.”

Derec coughed and shook his head in frustration. He wanted to speak and didn’t have the breath for it yet. Quickly, he pointed in a stabbing motion in the direction of the humanoids.

Ariel turned to look. “They aren’t coming yet. At least, I don’t see anybody.”

“No,” Derec wheezed. “That’s not what I mean.” He paused again, still breathing hard. His head was spinning dizzily.

“We could try supporting you between us again,” said Jeff. “But we can only do that by standing up and walking.”

“Wait, wait.” Derec inhaled deeply and looked up at both of them. “Those aren’t Hunters. I’m sure of it.”

“Really?” Ariel scooted closer to him. “Derec, are you sure? You’re not exactly in the best condition.”

“Hunters wouldn’t just pass by like that without even looking down the row. They can’t be Hunters.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Jeff slowly. “So who are they, then? And what are they doing in this valley?”

“I was thinking about that, too,” said Derec. “I think they’re migrating. They’re following that mysterious migration programming we told you we heard about.”

“So the only danger from them,” said Jeff, “is that if they notice us, the Hunters can ask them where we were. Otherwise they won’t bother us?”

“That’s right,” said Derec. “But we can also find out where they’re going — where their assembly point is. And what this whole operation is for.”

“Now?” Ariel said, making a face. “Derec, we don’t have much time left to find Avery. We can’t just go wandering off —”

“No! Don’t you understand? This migration thing is Avery’s doing. If we can figure it out, maybe we’ll find him. He’s behind it all, and it’s obviously very important to him.”

“That sounds awfully risky,” said Jeff.

“Look at me! Risky? I don’t have much time left!” Derec spoke forcefully, but was too weak to speak loudly now. “I think we’ve talked long enough. What are we going to do?”

“That row is full of robot footsteps, too,” said Ariel. “Ours would be camouflaged some.”

“It is something to go on,” Jeff said slowly.

“I wish Mandelbrot was here,” said Ariel. “And poor Wolruf, running around in Robot City with him. I wonder where they are. I hope they’re all right.”

“We can’t worry about them,” said Derec. “We can’t help them directly now, anyway. If we get to Avery, we can make him ease up on them, too. We have to concentrate on Avery.”

“That’s right,” said Jeff. “The truth is, they can probably take care of themselves better then we can, especially Mandelbrot. And Derec seems to be the one Dr. Avery is after.”

“I’ve been putting some ideas together,” said Derec. “While we were crawling in the mud back there, just now.”

“All right,” said Jeff, “let’s hear ’em. If they aren’t going to come after us, we have a few minutes.”

“Unless the Hunters get here too,” added Ariel.

“Listen,” said Derec... Avery learned from Professor Leong that the two most important forces behind cultural longevity are passing on values and maintaining a distinct identity. Right?”

“Sure,” said Jeff.

“So passing values down is not a problem with robots; they’re just programmed. They can process information much faster and keep more of it accessible than humans.”

“No argument there,” said Jeff.

Ariel nodded. “And all along, we’ve seen that these Avery robots are different from any other sort. They behave in a different way. Their programming must have been special from the beginning.”

“Exactly,” said Derec. “Both of those facts fit perfectly. And the isolation of Robot City prevents it from being altered by cultures from the outside.”

Jeff nodded. “Its location is still a secret.”

“So Avery really took those two lessons to heart and used them to form Robot City,” said Ariel.

“One big question remains,” said Derec. “What values did he program into them?”

“Efficiency,” said Jeff.

“Harmony,” said Ariel. “Both of those. A kind of idealism. Remember when they gave us their provisional Laws of Humanics, for ideal human behavior? Robot City was supposed to be a kind of utopia. We already knew that.”

“But now we know what kind — on what basis.” Derec nodded with excitement. He now felt a surge of energy again that animated him once more.

“I’m starting to get the idea,” said Jeff. “What do you want to do about it?”,

“Challenge the system,” said Derec. “Force it to malfunction. or at least make it look like it is.”

“To make Avery show himself,” Ariel said. “All right. I get it. But … how?”

“We have to present the system — that is, the central computer — with irrational events,” said Derec.

“Look — the Supervisors originally needed us to solve a crime against a human when we first arrived. The system here has that weak point.”

“And we never did figure out who the victim was, either,” said Ariel. She shivered. “He looked just like you. That still gives me the creeps, even now.”

Derec said nothing. When he had first entered Avery’s office he had come across some mysterious information about the dead man that he had never shared with Ariel. This was no time to launch into that topic.

Jeff looked at her in surprise. They had never told him that part of their story.

“Well, for the moment, forget it,” said Derec sharply. “One crisis at a time. The reason we arranged the Hamlet performance was also to accomplish something that the robots weren’t ready to handle.”

“I see what you’re getting at,” said Jeff. “That’s a weak point in the system. A utopia isn’t supposed to have crimes and these Avery robots can’t really handle them.”

“Exactly,” said Derec. “I think we have to commit a few crimes against humanoid robots. We aren’t bound by the Laws of Robotics and Mandelbrot isn’t around to interfere if a situation arose that involved the Laws.”

Jeff grinned wryly. “Okay... let’s become criminals. What’ll we do first, boss?”

Derec grinned himself, despite his discomfort. “We have to incapacitate a robot.”

“Murder one?” Ariel shook her head. “I don’t see how. Those heads of theirs are as hard as a ship’s hull. We could bonk them on the head and not even get their attention.”

All three of them giggled nervously. The tension was broken a little by the hope of taking aggressive action.

“We can’t unfasten their bodies, either,” said Jeff, still grinning. “No tools. Otherwise, we could just sneak up behind them, power up the tools, and leave a little junkpile behind.”

“We could go into business later with used parts,” said Ariel. “Discounted Avery robot parts, cheap.”

“All right, all right.” Derec shook his head. “We don’t actually need any physical violence. The first thing we have to do is get over to that other row, so we can look for one robot walking alone. Let’s crawl back over there.”

It was a very long crawl. Derec had to stop several times on the way to rest. Each time, he worried that the Hunters were going to catch up to them before they could accomplish anything.

Finally they reached the last few tall, leafy stalks before the break in the rows. The three of them huddled at the corner of the row, where Derec could lean forward and look up the slope. Jeff and Ariel sat on his other side, both of them looking around anxiously for Hunters coming from other directions.

“Nothing yet,” said Derec. “That gives me time to explain what I have in mind.”

“I hope more are coming this way,” said Ariel. “What if the bunch going to that assembly point is all there?”

“Good point,” said Derec. “Maybe we should follow them. Just keep a look-out behind us —”

“No good,” said Jeff. “These rows are absolutely straight. If the Hunters come along, they can look straight down the slope and spot us instantly even from the very opening of the pass.”

“We’d better stay here.” Ariel settled into a comfortable position. “Derec, tell us what you’re planning while we have a chance to talk it over.”

“You mentioned their Laws of Humanics.” Derec nodded at Ariel.

“I don’t remember the exact wording, but their provisional First Law of Humanics was to the effect that humans wouldn’t injure another human or let one come to harm through inaction.”

“They just rewrote the First Law of Robotics.” Jeff shrugged.

“The Second Law of Humanics might help us,” said Derec. “It says that humans must only give reasonable orders to a robot and not require anything that would distress it. Their Third Law of Humanics is the best one for us, though. It says that we must not harm a robot or let one come to harm through inaction, unless such harm is needed to help a human or allow a vital order to be carried out.”

“How do you want to use them?” Ariel asked.

“We need to violate the Third Law of Humanics and maybe the Second to prove that this isn’t a utopia even for robots.” Derec looked at them both. “You follow me?”

“So far,” said Jeff.

“How do we do that?” Ariel asked.

“Basically, we have to convince our victim that my physical condition is his fault.”

“All right.” Jeff nodded. “In other words, force it into shutting itself down because it thinks it has violated the First Law. That makes sense to me. We have a better chance of that than of wrestling it to the ground.”

“How?” Ariel demanded. “They aren’t exactly stupid. They’ll know if they’ve harmed you or not.”

“We’ll have to play-act a scene,” said Derec. “I haven’t really figured out the details. Maybe if it thinks it caused you two to attack me, or something like that.”

“I hear footsteps,” said Jeff.

Derec got down low and carefully looked around the nearest plant, up the slope. A lone humanoid robot was coming down the row. Derec gathered his feet under him and waited.

“What are we supposed to do?” Ariel whispered.

“We’ll all have to improvise,” he whispered back, gesturing with his hand. “Quiet.”

Just as the robot reached him, Derec threw himself forward to clutch at the robot’s legs.

“Stop!” Derec called hoarsely, looking up at the robot’s face. He didn’t have to fake his pain any, but he gave vent to it in his facial expression. “You hurt me.”

The robot stopped, looking down at him. “If I did so, it was inadvertent. I apologize.” The robot reached down to take Derec under its arms and lift him.

At the contact, Derec let out a scream and went limp. He slid out of the robot’s grasp to lie on the ground face up.

“You’ve killed him!” Ariel screamed, jumping up. “You murderer, you’ve killed him!”

Derec struggled not to smile at her vehemence. He lay with his eyes open, so he could follow what was happening.

“Looks that way,” said Jeff. “Maybe you ought to shut down, pal. You can’t go around violating the First Law like that.”

The robot was visibly quivering. “I did not harm him. Our contact was minimal and of very low impact. This is a misunderstanding. I will help him find care.”

“No! Don’t you touch him!” Ariel shouted, waving her arms wildly. “You’ll do it again.”

“Humans cannot die more than once,” said ‘; he robot. “Besides, he is not dead.”

“He’s in very bad shape,” said Jeff. “It’s your fault. Do you understand that?”

Derec started grimacing and writhing in pain, with relatively little play-acting required.

“I... could... not have harmed him,” the robot insisted. “My contact... with him... would not damage him.”

The robot’s hesitation revealed his doubt. Derec was encouraged. They just had to keep at it.

“And no reporting to the central computer,” Jeff said suddenly. “I almost forgot. You haven’t done that, have you?”

“No... I was... distracted.”

“Well, don’t. That’s an order. Second Law. Got it?” Jeff demanded, pointing a finger at him.

“Yes....”

“Don’t you think you ought to shut down?” Ariel said forcefully, her hands on her hips. “After doing this to him?”

“I am … not … convinced.”

“If you won’t shut down,” said Jeff, “then we’ll have beat him up ourselves. And that will definitely be your fault.”

“That... is illogical.”

“Are you going to shut down or not?” Ariel demanded.

“No... I will not....”

“Wait a minute,” Derec wheezed, trying to sound as injured as he could. “Do you admit that you are in doubt about this?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should at least agree to come with us where we can discuss it further.”

“That’s right,” said Jeff. “You can’t argue that, can you?”

“Good idea,” said Ariel, looking up the slope. “We, uh, don’t want to be interrupted.”

“Carry me,” Derec said to the robot. “Who are you, anyway? And what do you do?”

“I... am Pei,” said the robot, with somewhat less hesitation. “My task is Architectural Designer.” He bent down and gently picked up Derec. “Where... shall we go?”

“We want to be out of sight of this row,” said Jeff. “But not too far. Uh, let’s cross that row and go to the other side.”

“Very well,” said Pei. “However, we cannot go out of sight of this row unless we go some distance. I see a slight dip in the row ahead that may suffice if we all sit on the ground.”

“Perfect,” said Ariel. “C’mon, let’s hurry.”

With Pei carrying Derec, the group moved quickly for the first time since they had left the Minneapolis.

As they walked, Derec relaxed a little and closed his eyes. It was a relief to rest again, even for a few moments before they stopped.

Pei set him down with extreme care. Then the others sat down around him on the damp, soft soil.

“Explain... my transgression... of the First Law,” said Pei. He began quivering a little more again.

Derec, lying with eyes closed, felt guilty about distressing the robot this way. He reminded himself, however, that the same robot was under Avery programming. He would turn them all in if the central computer or the Hunters knew he was with them and instructed him to do so.

Besides, he could be repaired or reprogrammed later with no lasting damage. I can’t, Derec thought. He opened his eyes.

“You harmed me,” Derec asserted as firmly as he could. “Shut yourself down.”

“At least for a while, you know, until you can be checked,” said Ariel. “That’s standard procedure, isn’t it?”

Her phrasing sounded lame to Derec. He realized that she felt guilty about this, too.

“I... must be... convinced,” said Pei.

Chapter 16

TO CHALLENGE UTOPIA

DEREC SUDDENLY ACTED on another impulse. With effort, he rolled onto his side and got his aching legs under him. Then he launched himself at Jeff without warning, reaching for Jeff’s throat as if he wanted to strangle him.

Just as he got his hands around Jeff’s neck, Pei gently grasped his wrists. Even at the slight pressure, Derec screamed and fell back, drawing his arms away with his hands limp. Then he collapsed to the ground with his eyes closed.

“You did it again!” Jeff cried, not too loudly.

“You’ve really hurt him this time,” said Ariel.

“This is an acceptable move,” said Pei. “I have prevented greater harm to this human by making a less harmful move to the one attacking him. No violation of the First Law has been made.” His confidence was returning.

Derec opened his eyes, not otherwise moving.

“Uh....” Jeff looked helplessly at Ariel.

“You overdid it,” said Ariel excitedly. “Look at him. That’s not called for!”

“That’s right,” Jeff declared. “Stopping him with reasonable force is all right, but this is something else!”

Pei looked down at Derec. “I... could not... have hurt him. I... was... gentle.”

“Not gentle enough,” Ariel wailed. “That’s twice you’ve hurt him. You just don’t understand how fragile humans are.”

“That’s right,” said Jeff eagerly. “That’s the problem. If you’ve never had contact with humans before, that explains it. Suppose you shut down till your judgement is fixed up. Or something.” He shrugged lamely at Ariel.

“It’s your judgement,” Ariel agreed, “that must be faulty at the core, so to speak. You can’t risk harming a human because of that, can you?”

“Perhaps... you have... a point.” Pei’s voice grew faint and he froze in place.

“Pei, are you awake?” Ariel asked cautiously.

“Pei, if you can hear me, I order you to say so,” said Jeff.

When Derec didn’t hear anything, he forced himself up on one elbow. “Hey, it finally worked.”

“I guess it did,” said Ariel.

“Then it should work again,” said Jeff. “And now that we know what it takes, we can refine our scenario.”

“Let’s get back over to that row they’re taking,” said Derec. “Can you help me up?”

Yet again, Jeff and Ariel helped him to his feet and supported his arms over their shoulders. The trio shuffled back to the one row that these humanoid robots were using for their trip down into the valley.

There Derec once more sank to the ground.

Jeff and Ariel this time paced nervously between the high stalks on each side of the furrow.

“Maybe we ought to move on,” said Ariel. “Isn’t one mugged robot enough? I mean, one murdered human and one murdered robot caused major crises in Robot City before.”

“That’s a good point,” said Jeff. “Maybe we could drag him over here where the next migrating robot will be sure to find him. But we could move on, keep ahead of the Hunters.”

“I can’t help you drag him,” said Derec. “And he’s pretty big. I doubt the two of you could get him all the way over here.”

Jeff ran a hand through his straight black hair and sighed. “You’re right. It’s been a rough day already, and we may have a lot more running ahead.”

“One more robot,” said Derec. “That’s all we need.”

“What are you talking about?” Ariel demanded. “If we just stand here and wait for the Hunters, all this has been for nothing anyway. We have to get out of here.”

“Just one more robot. Instead of mugging it, we’ll just make sure it sees Pei, back there. Then we’ll move on.”

“Well... all right,” said Ariel. “We’ll wait a little while. But if nothing comes before long, we’re leaving anyway. Agreed?”

“Fair enough,” said Derec. “But remember, it has to be one robot walking alone. I’m pretty sure that trying to fool more than one would be tougher because the others will observe and may spot the fraud.

Let’s not chance that.”

More robots did walk down the row before much time had passed, and all of them seemed to be migrating alone in the sense that they were not part of a crew or a team. However, they often came down the row in sight of one or more robots behind them, and Derec did not dare attempt their charade under those circumstances.

“Remember,” said Derec, “not that much time has really passed for the Hunters to get here. It just seems longer to us than it has been because we’re scared.”

“Here comes another one,” said Ariel, peeking around the leafy stalk on the corner of the row. “It looks good. I don’t see anyone behind him yet.”

Jeff moved next to her to look. “Hey, Derec. I think this is it. We’ve got another one.”

“Finally. All right. Just before he gets here, I’ll throw myself on the ground and you jump on me.” He smiled wryly. “Not too hard, okay? I’m half dead already.”

“Derec, don’t talk that way —” Ariel began.

“Hey — wait a minute,” said Jeff. “I know that robot. It’s... what did I name him? Oh, yeah. Hey, Can Head!” Jeff stepped out in front of the robot.

The robot stopped suddenly, looking at him in some surprise. “Are you addressing me?”

“Identify yourself,” said Jeff.

“I am Energy Pack Maintenance Foreman 3928,” said the robot. “I am following migration programming. Please allow me to pass.”

“That sounds right. I’m sure it’s you.” Jeff nodded, studying the robot’s eyeslit and general shape.

“Jeff, what are you doing?” Derec asked.

“I knew this character,” said Jeff. “I even gave him a second name. He was very cooperative.”

“They’ve all been reprogrammed,” Ariel said urgently. “We’re sure of it, remember? He won’t retain anything from when you were here before. Let’s get on with it.”

“C’mon, pal, remember?” Jeff grinned. “You will also answer to Can Head, won’t you?”

“Yes. I also answer to Can Head.”

Ariel laughed in surprise, stifling it with a hand over her mouth.

“There!” Jeff grinned at her and Derec.

Derec shrugged at Ariel.

“I’m the human who was in a robot body before,” said Jeff to Can Head. “I gave you that name and now I have further instructions. First, don’t contact the central computer with any of this. Got it?” He winked down at Derec. “I used to say that on my last trip here, too.”

“Understood,” said Can Head.

“Do you remember me?” Jeff asked.

“No.”

“You don’t?” Jeff started. “Then why do you still answer to Can Head?”

“I’ve got it,” said Derec. “All the robots of Robot City were reprogrammed through the central core, but their identities and designations were not changed. That would be counterproductive for Avery because the central computer still has to be able to contact and recognize all the different robots.”

“I guess,” said Jeff. “I’m disappointed. I thought I had an old friend, here.”

“That’s nothing,” said Derec. “You should have seen the greeting we got from Euler, an old friend of ours. He’s the one who sent the Hunters after us.”

“Anyhow, he’s being cooperative,” said Jeff. “Maybe we don’t need our scenario.” He turned to Can Head. “We must show you something. However, before we do, we request your help — no, we require your help under the First Law.”

“How may I help?” Can Head asked.

“This human is Derec and he is extremely ill. We —”

“He looks it,” said Can Head.

“A comedian,” Derec muttered.

“We need you to carry him for us for a while,” said Jeff.

“Why?”

“We... are being followed by those who would do further harm,” said Ariel, speaking slowly to get the right phrases.

“Exactly,” said Derec.

“Who are they?” Can Head asked.

“We can’t say,” said Jeff. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? Harm is harm under the First Law.”

“I am under high-priority programming to migrate,” said Can Head. “To violate it, I must understand the urgency of the potential harm.”

“Hold it,” said Derec. “Let’s combine the two. Look — you see where the ground dips over there?”

“Yes.”

“An inactive humanoid robot is lying there. After you take us to safety, we want you to report it to the central computer, but not before. You understand?”

“So far,” said Can Head.

“Before you do that, carry me and lead them on an evasive pattern toward your assembly point. That will combine your programming with our needs under the First Law. Can you do that?”

“My programming requires that I migrate directly,” said Can Head. He turned to look at the dip in the ground. “A humanoid robot has malfunctioned here?”

“Sort of,” said Derec. “It’s more like he was mugged.”

“Mugged? In the sense of criminal violence?”

“That’s what I mean, yeah.”

Can Head turned his eyes lit directly down at Derec. “Is this development directly related to the danger you are in?”

“Uh — yes! It is directly related,” said Derec. “But we don’t need to discuss how. Will you help us or not?”

“I believe this is sufficient reason to take you on an evasive pattern toward my assembly point.” Can Head leaned down and picked up Derec with surprising gentleness, even for a robot. “Follow me,” he said to Jeff and Ariel.

Derec let out a sigh of relief. As long as they were moving ahead of the Hunters, they had a chance, and an evasive pattern taken by a robot might at least be the equal of the Hunters, ability to solve it. It would be better than their own, at any rate.

He would instruct Can Head to drop them off before he reached his assembly point and to keep his contact with them secret. At that time, he thought sleepily, he could cajole an explanation of the migration programming out of him. Right now, he was just so tired....

He was comforted by the strong, rhythmic stride of Can Head and by the sound of the footsteps of Jeff and Ariel right behind them. News of the mugging of their victim was certain to reach Dr. Avery. What Derec needed now was Mandelbrot. Mandelbrot could contact the central computer and, unlike Can Head and the other Avery robots, he could he trusted to help without these convoluted discussions of the Laws.

Mandelbrot... and Wolruf. He drifted off to sleep wondering what had happened to them.

Mandelbrot was standing motionless in a repair facility. The trip here had been a long one, covering a surprisingly long distance. He had been deposited here just a moment before by the helpful robot.

He had successfully evaded the Hunters behind him by dual moves. The first was having that other robot carry him to eliminate his heat trail, and the second was being identified as a malfunctioning robot.

Apparently the Hunters, with no reason to believe he was in need of repair, were acting under the assumption that he was still in full flight. He would have to move on before they thought of checking here.

Mandelbrot also had to get out before the repair robots required his identification, and that would be any time now.

At first he had been surprised by being set down and left to wait. The efficiency of the Avery robots had led him to expect immediate handling. As he observed the workings in the repair facility, however, he concluded that Robot City was, as usual, functioning under its own distinctive style of efficiency.

The repair facility was processing a large number of damaged or malfunctioning robots. Mandelbrot guessed from the conversations he overheard through his comlink that migration programming had largely been completed. Apparently only skeleton staffs remained anywhere in Robot City now.

For that reason, most repair facilities had also been shut down. The robots being repaired here were either already assigned to those skeleton staffs or they were being reprogrammed. Those that entered with migration orders had them purged and were placed in a pool to act as reserves for the skeleton staffs instead.

So Robot City intended to function without the migrating robots for an extended period. Further, any robot that did not reach its assembly point within a short time would be reassigned. Mandelbrot concluded that he could not afford to wait here longer at all, or he would risk being reprogrammed and so lost to the humans as a source of help.

Mandelbrot was standing by four other robots. Two were sitting because of mechanical failures that impaired standing or walking. The other two were standing, the extent of their malfunctions not visible. All of them had managed to reach the repair facility alert and functioning just short of one hundred percent.

Mandelbrot observed the entire room for a moment. A couple of humanoid robots assigned to the facility supervised a large number of function robots doing the actual repair work. One function robot was rolling down the row of waiting robots that Mandelbrot was in, observing serial numbers or something with an eye on a long, flexible tentacle.

Mandelbrot turned and walked quickly out of the building. Outside, he mounted a slidewalk and began to run on it toward the mountains, now invisible in the distance. He knew their direction but had to follow his memory of the ship viewscreen for the best route.

“Stop,” called a robot on his comlink. “You are malfunctioning and therefore endanger yourself by risking greater malfunctions. This is a Third Law violation that requires you to shut down —”

Mandelbrot broke his reception. Since he was in fine condition, none of that applied. He had known they would see him take off, and he was gambling that they would not place as high a priority on catching him as the Hunters had. At worst, they would assign a Hunter to catch him as a malfunctioned rogue instead of as an intruder involved with Derec.

Ahead, he saw a tunnel stop. Without looking back, he leaped off the slidewalk and ran down the moving ramp to the loading dock. Then he was inside a platform booth and had programmed it to go as close to the mountains as it could take him.

The trip would take some time. He opened his comlink again to reconnoiter.

Two general alerts were coming from the central computer with high priority codes.

One was that Hunters were now seeking a malfunctioning robot who had apparently violated the Third Law by running away from a repair facility. Because the force of the Laws was involved, all humanoid robots were ordered to watch for him. His physical description was given. Since he had escaped from the repair facility before any scanning was done, they had no more to go on than that, but he was distinctive from the Avery robots even by sight.

The second alert was that a mysteriously shut-down humanoid robot had been found in the agricultural park. Nothing was known about the cause. The Supervisors entered an urgent order that any robots with information about this development report it immediately.

Total malfunctions of this kind were extremely rare in Robot City. Mandelbrot was sure that this one called up memories in the minds of the Supervisors, and probably in Avery himself, of the robot murder that Derec had solved here.

Mandelbrot, of course, was not bound by the instruction. He was sure that his human friends were somehow responsible and he was also certain that the Hunters would guess this, as well. Nevertheless, none of them had proof.

Mandelbrot also figured that the Hunters would guess that the rogue robot was the same one they were hunting. It made no difference, since he had to avoid them either way. He now felt the First Law impetus pushing him on, since the Hunters were likely to be closer to the humans than he was.

The platform booth continued to shoot down the tunnel toward the mountains. It was the fastest transportation he had, and it seemed painfully slow.

Chapter 17

JEFF’S FAVOR

DEREC HEARD ARIEL calling his name. It came out of darkness, out of fog, out of chilly air... until he finally opened his eyes and found himself looking up at her with some thick, tall grass waving behind her in the dim glow suffusing the entire valley. He said nothing at first, trying to remember where they were. The surroundings were totally unfamiliar to him.

“Derec, please wake up. We have to move again.” Her voice was pleading.

“Come on. I’ll help you.” Jeff got an arm under Derec and pulled him into a sitting position.

“Where are we?” Derec asked, looking around. His voice was dry and hoarse. “What’s happened?”

“You fell asleep while Can Head was carrying you,” said Ariel. “He’s gone now.”

“You’ve been asleep for some time,” said Jeff. “It must be the middle of the night by now. It’s getting colder.”

Derec nodded, folding his arms and rubbing them. “But Can Head must have reported the mugged robot to the central computer, probably right after he left us.”

“As to where we are,” said Ariel, “Can Head let us down through the valley floor, kind of zigzagging, and partway up the far slope. I think we’re in a wheat field.”

Derec reluctantly let Jeff pull him to his feet. His whole body seemed to ache. He leaned against Jeff’s shoulder, breathing hard, trying to gain his balance.

“We woke you up because we have to keep going,” said Ariel. “The Hunters aren’t going to stop for the night.”

“Have you got any more ideas, Derec?” Jeff asked. “Avery should have heard about the mugging by now.”

Derec shook his head, still trying to wake up. “I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know how long that news will take to have an effect, either.” He straightened up. “I meant to ask Can Head about the migration. Do you know where his assembly point is?”

“Not really,” said Jeff. “He went sideways across the slope when he left, but I imagine he was heading back to that one thoroughfare they were all using.”

“We don’t dare try that,” Derec muttered to himself.

Ariel suddenly clutched his arm. She nodded toward something over his shoulder without speaking.

Derec and Jeff turned to look. Far across the same slope, a humanoid figure was just barely distinguishable in the distance, coming toward them.

“Let’s go,” Derec said, feeling a faint surge of excitement. “It’s not on the migration route, so it must be a Hunter, and it’s sure to have seen us. I’m afraid it won’t be long now.”

The three of them started along the row in the opposite direction, but Derec was just barely stumbling along. As before, the others each supported one of his arms across their shoulders. Derec realized with frustration that he was now too far gone for even the adrenaline in his system to make much difference.

When they reached an intersecting row between the wheat field and a field of some low, bushy plants he could not recognize, Jeff stopped and lowered Derec’s arm.

“Look, we’ll have to split up.” He looked back at the Hunter, which was still distant but visibly closer.

“Why bother?” Derec said wearily.

“Maybe I can divert it somehow. And if they get me first, I’m probably in the least danger from Avery. He doesn’t have any business with me.”

“He’s crazy,” Ariel said sharply. “You can’t expect rational behavior from him.”

“Well, maybe not. But splitting up is the best chance to keep Derec away from him a little longer. Maybe Avery will show himself in that extra time.”

Derec looked up to study his face. “You sure you want to take this much risk?”

Jeff grinned at him and shrugged. “Hey, I said lowed you a favor, didn’t I?”

Derec gripped his arm for a moment in thanks, then turned and started up the slope. Ariel threw her arms around Jeff in a brief hug and then hurried after Derec. Jeff moved a few meters down the slope and then got down on all fours to crawl through the low bushes of the adjacent crop field.

Derec leaned on Ariel for support as they plodded slowly up the furrow between the fields. In a moment, the tall green Auroran-bred wheat had hidden them from immediate view of the Hunter, but it would have noted the trio’s movements and communicated them to the other Hunters, wherever they were.

Mandelbrot stood at the opening of one of the passes into the valley, looking out over the agricultural park. It was dimly lit and he could just barely see, with his superior robot vision, tiny figures moving in the distance. He paused to study the entire valley.

Some of the taller and thicker crops blocked his sight, but he could see a couple of humanoid robots moving straight up a row on the far slope. They were not behaving like Hunters, and he suspected that they were migrating. Down in the valley floor, he saw two large robots moving systematically among the rows of the crops and was sure that they were Hunters.

Then, at another spot on the opposite slope, he saw a human figure crawling through one of the fields.

As he watched helplessly, a lone Hunter ran up behind him and lifted the human off the ground. From the lively struggle he saw he knew the human was not Derec and he judged that Ariel was smaller.

Above the struggle a short distance, he located Derec and Ariel moving painfully and slowly as they wove their way among some short trees.

Mandelbrot’s programming and his understanding of the dangers posed by Dr. Avery placed Derec at the highest of his priorities. While the Hunters were programmed with a narrow definition of duty that allowed them to detain humans without harming them, Mandelbrot had a larger perspective and saw detention by the Hunters as a first step toward virtually certain harm. At the moment, he would have to ignore Jeff’s capture and help Derec and Ariel if he could. He noted the positions and current movements of the Hunters he could see, and started quickly down the slope.

Derec and Ariel stumbled out of the far side of the fruit orchard onto a well-traveled footpath headed straight up and down the slope.

“I’m totally lost,” Derec wheezed. He stopped, bending forward to lean on his knees. “But this must be the migration route again. Look at all the robot footprints. This valley can’t have very much foot traffic. And if it did, they would have paved this.”

Ariel nodded and prodded him up the slope, where the soft mud had been churned unevenly with the heavy use. The irrigation was obviously turned on at regular intervals. “C’mon,” she muttered breathlessly.

They had just started up the incline when a large figure stepped out of the crops above them. It threw a massive shadow as it started down the slope toward them. Derec looked up at the great bulk of a Hunter as it moved toward them carefully, watching its precarious balance on the poor footing.

“Come on!” Ariel yanked him sideways back into the fruit orchard. “Hurry.”

“I can’t,” he whispered apologetically. “I’m too weak to hurry.” He followed her, though, until she halted abruptly a moment later.

Another Hunter was waiting for them in the trees ahead, a dark silhouette against the glow of light behind him.

They turned again and found two more Hunters pushing through the trees, breaking branches and shaking leaves as they did so, coming right up the slope without bothering to follow any rows and furrows. Their very silence and dispassionate demeanor discouraged rebellion.

Derec leaned wearily on Ariel’s shoulders, unable to struggle. She wrapped her arms around him, more for his sake, he guessed, than because she was scared. He glared helplessly at the nearest Hunter.

As he watched the Hunter reaching for them he saw a weirdly flexible robot arm curl around the Hunter’s neck from behind. It made a couple of quick motions and the Hunter froze, completely shut down.

Derec blinked at it, too surprised to react.

“Run!” Mandelbrot shouted, emerging from behind the Hunter. His cellular arm, which Derec had long ago installed and ordered him to disguise as a normal robotic arm of the time, was just now stiffening back to normal.

“Come on!” Ariel shoved Derec past Mandelbrot to put their protector between them and the Hunters.

They began stumbling through the trees again, their hope renewed by Mandelbrot. Ariel led him through a crooked trail, turning and twisting through the fruit trees in a clumsy, crashing route that ignored stealth entirely. At one point Derec got caught in a leafy branch and had to pause to get out. He took the moment to peer back at Mandelbrot.

Four Hunters had originally closed in on them. Mandelbrot had apparently pushed the controls on that first one to neutralize it and then had attacked the other three. By attacking them, he brought the Third Law into effect, forcing the Hunters to protect themselves. This imperative overrode even the strongest programming, so that they could not continue their pursuit until they had subdued Mandelbrot.

Mandelbrot was outnumbered, but had the advantage of instructions to use his cellular arm. Further, in the close quarters among the trees, the greater size of the Hunters impeded them. The struggle continued, buying Derec and Ariel more time as they hurried on.

Ariel led the way until finally he reached out and grabbed her, too out of breath to speak up. She waited anxiously until he could, looking around fearfully.

“Where are we going?” He panted.

“I don’t know. Anywhere. Just away.”

“Mandelbrot can’t win that fight. He can only slow them down. Then it’ll start allover again the same way.”

“Have you got a better idea?” She demanded.

He nodded and got down on the ground among the trees. “I’ve been thinking about this park. The way that robot path is chewed up by the footprints and all. It means this park normally doesn’t have an erosion problem.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So these crops still need water, and it’s obviously managed with their usual efficiency. If this valley is irrigated by underground pipes or something, we’ve had it. But I don’t think the robots would do that, because leaves need external moisture, too.”

“Get to the point, will you? Or let’s go.”

“Irrigation outlets. This valley has to have them in some form. If we turn them on, they’ll eliminate our heat trail.”

“Well....” She knelt down beside him. “They could be anywhere. And it’s dark. Besides, Derec, this is a high-altitude valley. Maybe the natural fog and rain take care of all that.”

“That would be leaving too much to chance. We have to figure this out.”

“How?”

He sat back and looked at her. His legs no longer hurt; they were nearly numb. “All right. Instead of looking at random, we have to work it out logically, like the robots would. Where would you place irrigation outlets for the greatest efficiency?”

“How do I know?”

“Well, I can hardly think at all!”

“All right, all right. Concentrate. We’re on a slope.... Derec, come on. This way.”

He nodded and forced himself after her, stumbling on feet he could hardly feel.

After a walk that seemed much longer than it could possibly have been, they stopped along a row between the trees that ran horizontally along the slope. Now Derec was the one looking all around for Hunters that could come from any direction.

“They must use these furrows as a kind of terracing,” said Ariel. “I think we’re right in the middle of the vertical rows. If they put the irrigation spigots near here, they would lose the least amount to runoff down the slope. The same with fire control.”

“It sounds good to me,” said Derec, collapsing to the ground again. “Let’s find it.”

“If it’s here,” she added, joining him on the ground.

“I got something.” Derec’s hand had come across a small cylinder sticking up perhaps fifteen centimeters from the surface of the ground. He got down low to look at it in the faint light.

“Now what?” Ariel whispered, moving next to him. “It doesn’t have any controls or anything. What if the sensors are somewhere else?”

“It’s possible,” said Derec slowly. “But look how high it is. Why would they do that? They don’t do anything sloppily here, or without a reason. They don’t waste material, either.”

“Derec, we can’t just sit here and try to outguess them. Who knows?” She shook her head. “Maybe we should just keep running, huh?”

He shook his head. “This is the only real chance we have left. Come on, help me bury it.”

“What?”

“Hurry! Why else would it be so tall? This whole thing is its own sensor. It probably judges air moisture and precipitation and who knows what.”

“How do you know?”

“I think they designed it at this height so it wouldn’t be covered by minor shifts in the soil during hoeing and other care. If we cover it with dirt, it’ll stop sensing. Come on!” He was already scraping up the soft black soil, which the function robots seemed to keep turned constantly, and began packing it around the cylinder.

She joined him without further argument. They found the soil damp enough to stick to the cylinder if they packed it hard, and before long it was covered. Derec wiped the dirt off his hands on some leaves.

“Now what?” She asked, wiping off her own hands. “Nothing’s happening.”

Chapter 18

DOWN A HOLE

AT THE FAR end of the valley, Wolruf sat quivering in the chilly air. She was huddled high in the mountains in a vertical crevice of rock. This was the compromise she had reached for her conundrum: she was in the valley where she could try to observe the humans or even Mandelbrot if they were here when day broke. At the same time, she would not lead the Hunters following her directly to them.

Now she could not see any of them in the faint light down in the valley. In the nearer regions below her, function robots were visible doing their regular chores among the crops. Her physiology kept her just warm enough at this altitude to remain for a while, but she was not comfortable. Nor did she have the energy left to run farther.

She waited patiently, reviewing the moves she had made to break her trail. None of them could avoid a systematic search by the Hunters if they were close enough to detect her heat. Also, the Hunters probably had checked the pass at some point, because it was a bottleneck that could quickly tell them if she was inside the valley or out.

If her heat trail had faded before they had reached it, they still had physical signs to rely on. She had been as careful as possible, but the robotic vision of the Hunters could detect extreme detail. The rest was up to them.

Her ears perked up at the sound of footsteps on the rock fall below her. With no more energy left for fleeing, she waited patiently. The giant shape of a Hunter emerged from the darkness, thrown into silhouette by the distant glow emanating from the crops below. She knew it would not harm her, but it would take her prisoner and possibly deliver her to Dr. Avery, who could certainly harm her if he wished.

She shivered as the Hunter reached down to pick her up.

Derec was staring disconsolately at the dirt-covered sensor when it suddenly erupted in an uneven spray, knocking loose some of the dirt. Ariel and he both flinched. All around them, other spigots were also spraying jets of fine mist into the air.

“That’s it!” Derec lifted his arms toward her. “Let’s go. Can you help me up?”

Ariel took his arms and pulled. His legs gave out under him. She wasn’t strong enough to lift him.

She started to pull again.

“I can’t walk any more.” His lower legs and feet had lost all feeling.

“You can’t walk at all?” Her shoulders slumped.

“But I can crawl. Let’s go.”

“Derec...?”

“Come on!” He started crawling through the soft earth, which was quickly turning to mud.

She stood and walked alongside him. “This is crazy. We’re hardly getting anywhere.”

“We have a lot more time now. The Hunters can’t follow our heat trail so they’ll have to start a pattern search. And at least one of them will have to carry Mandelbrot after they’ve shut him down.”

“Derec, you’ve only gone two meters!”

He stopped, sighing, and looked ahead. She was right. He could barely move. “Hey — what’s that thing?”

“What?” She looked, too.

Some kind of large rectangular shape, at least a cubic meter in size, was emerging from the ground below the trees.

“That... thing, there. We haven’t seen one of those before.” He started crawling again.

“There’s one behind us, too,” she said. “And beyond that one. They’re coming up all over. They were completely hidden before.”

“We must have triggered them along with the irrigation. Go see what it is.”

She hurried ahead and stopped in front of the object, bending low in front of it. After a moment, she came back and knelt down. “I think we can get inside it. It looks like a ventilation duct or something.”

Derec nodded. He had stopped crawling to get his breath again. His head was spinning dizzily.

When she got down on all fours and moved under him, he let her. She gathered his arms around her neck and maneuvered under him. Then, supporting his weight, she began to crawl much faster than he had, carrying as much of his weight as she could.

He hung on with his arms and closed his eyes against the spray of water.

“Here,” she said, after a few moments.

He opened his eyes into a gaping black opening with no other features. As she eased out from under him, he reached inside and felt for the shape of the object.

“It’s not a straight drop.” She helped him climb inside. “You can feel a gradual incline.”

Derec hesitated, too disoriented to speak but still reluctant to throw himself into an unknown hole.

“Go on, get in before the Hunters see us.”

He was losing all sense of his surroundings. Following directions was easier than arguing. He worked his way inside the opening and then suddenly was sliding downward and accelerating.

All was in darkness. He felt a rushing of air, the smooth pressure of the surface against his back as he slid, and Ariel bumping against him from above as she slid with him. Vaguely, he realized he was too exhausted to feel any fear.

He should have been terrified of winding up in a moving fan blade, for instance, or in the workings of some mysterious robot creation that would convert them both to fertilizer. Apparently he had been on Robot City too long for that. The robots couldn’t allow that much danger to a human to exist here.

No, that wasn’t it, either. The reason was even simpler. Nothing on this planet was more frightening than the chemfets destroying his body from the inside at this very moment.

The sensation of falling continued as they entered some turns, gradual curves, and finally reached a sudden upturn.

In the short ascent, gravity broke their momentum and then they slid backward again. Derec lay motionless, aware that they had stopped in the bottom of this thing, whatever it was. No light reached them at all.

He felt Ariel move a little, probably getting her bearings.

“Derec?” She said softly.” Are you hurt?”

A moment passed before he had the breath to answer. “No,” he whispered. “But I’ve had it.”

“We’re safe now,” she said, feeling for him and stroking his hair.” At least from the Hunters. I’m sure of it. They’ll have to search the entire valley, and every one of these things. And these were popping up every few meters, it looked like.... well, every fifty or sixty, anyhow. Without a heat trail to follow, it’ll take them forever.”

“I can’t do it.”

“But we’re onto him! Avery, I mean. I’m sure of it.” She shuffled around and seemed to stand. “You know that upward curve at the end of our... little ride? It’s here and not very high. The duct continues on a level from here. Say, you know what else? There are handholds of some kind on the side opposite the one we slid down.”

“Maybe for service robots to make repairs down here.” He thought a moment. The temptation to go on was strong. Confronting the crazy doctor after all the suffering he had endured... but he couldn’t move. All he wanted to do was sleep.

“I think you’re right,” he said finally. “This is a ventilation duct. From the size and number of them, it must lead to an immense living space.”

“Avery’s home. Robots wouldn’t need it or the produce in the valley. Come on, let’s go. I’ll help you up.”

“You’ll have to go on alone. I honestly can’t move.”

She was quiet a moment. “Do you really want me to go on without you?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” she said slowly. She waited, perhaps trying to think of something else to say. Then she got her arms around him and embraced him very hard, and held on.

He was too weak to respond. After a moment, he felt her let go and stand up. Then she was climbing, and he heard her moving down the ventilation duct away from him.

He closed his eyes and slept.

Ariel felt her way forward slowly with her hands as she crawled, not making any move until she knew what was ahead of her. She was still in absolute darkness in some kind of giant tube that was so far stretching straight ahead on a level course. With Derec unable to move, she was painfully aware that she was the last of their group to have a chance at finding Dr. Avery.

She was not exactly in top condition herself. Her hands and feet were painfully cold and she was drenched from the sprinklers. She was worn out, too, though not sick like Derec was. The climb up the mountainside and down into the valley had taken a lot of energy out of her.

She hoped, with guarded optimism, that her memory was growing stronger. Those weird memory fugues had grown less frequent and she wished fervently that none would strike while she was alone in this thing, whatever it was.

She began to find branches and intersections in the passageway. Without any way to pick one direction over another, she attempted to go as straight as she could. Going in roughly one direction would at least prevent her from wandering hopelessly in circles. She suspected that the intersecting tunnels represented those other openings on the surface they had seen.

After a while, she thought she had picked out a pattern. From what she could feel, smaller tunnels seemed to converge more often and become larger ones consistently to her left. She began to move leftward and discovered that the tunnels were now high enough for her to stand if she bent over.

Now that she was moving in this direction, more tunnels converged around her all the time. Then they started branching out again, some of them splitting off above her. Finally she realized that she could see hints of shapes: dark spaces that represented openings one way, a faint reflection of an inner surface another way.

The traces of a light source shone from just one direction.

She dropped to all fours again to pursue the light source, now more concerned with making noise than with the height of the tunnel.

Around a curve, she reached something recognizable: a covered opening into a room. Barely daring to breathe, she moved as quietly as she could toward it until she could peek through the opening.

It was nearly opaque.

The room was lit, but she couldn’t see much. It was carpeted in brown. Nor could she hear anything.

After the silence had continued, she decided that she would have to risk entering the room. She began studying the edge of the covering to see if she could get it loose. In a moment, she found that pressure on the covering itself caused a hole to appear in the middle. The substance, whatever it was, receded from the hole to fade outward into the surrounding wall until the vent was entirely open.

She let out a sigh of relief that the room was deserted. It was still silent, as well. After shifting around to get her feet out first, she dropped to the floor of the room and looked around.

It was a small room, perhaps only three meters cubed. The brown carpeting went all the way up the walls and covered the ceiling as well. The light came from a globe floating just under the center of the ceiling.

She looked again at the ceiling, then at the walls. The room was not built on right angles. The corners were slightly askew.

A couple of computer tapes were piled on the floor. In one corner, a small stuffed animal of unrecognizable type lay on its side. The room was not being used for anything that she could see.

This was not what Ariel had expected from Dr. Avery.

The door was closed. She held her breath and pushed the stud on the wall next to it. It slid open silently.

She remained where she was, waiting. When nothing happened, she stuck her head out slowly. She found a hallway extending maybe six meters one way and four the other. The hallway itself was oddly shaped, but familiar — then she recognized it. It was a hollow three-dimensional rendition of the Key to Perihelion.

She stepped into the hallway. The closed doors at each end of it were also shaped like the Keys. She chose one and walked toward it.

This one opened as she reached it. She hesitated, then edged through. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

This room reminded her of some ancient historical paintings she had seen. The high vaulted ceiling was at least two stories high and hung with curtains of burgundy velvet. Imitation Renaissance paintings in garish gold frames seemed to fit what she remembered of that period... or did they? Yet that furniture... was classic Auroran design, developed many centuries later. She looked up again, trying to orient herself... and shuffled quickly to one side to catch her balance.

This room was also askew. Worse than that, she guessed, it was not built on angles at all. Though the corners of the ceiling and walls were partly hidden by curtains, the whole room seemed oddly rounded, even twisted out of shape, as though the room had begun as a rectangle, had started to melt, and then had frozen again.

She started across the room to look more closely at the furniture. After four steps, the floor gave out beneath her and she fell, sliding this time down a short, twisting chute. She heard the trapdoor above her hiss closed again as she landed somewhere else with a thump.

This room was tiny, with just barely enough room for her to stand up. It, too, was in the shape of the Keys. There was a door in each wall that was big enough, and nothing else. The walls glowed with light, as in the Compass Tower. She pressed a stud by one of the doors.

The door slid open to reveal a solid glowing wall. She opened another one. This door opened to reveal a dark, narrow hallway. Before trying it, she pushed another stud.

A weirdly sculptured face stared at her from an archaic red brick wall. It had pointed ears, a long pointed face, and was laughing. Grimacing, she closed that one and tried another.

Another dark hallway stretched in front of her.

She had to go somewhere. With a glance at the other open doorway, she edged inside. The walls here didn’t glow, and she slid her feet carefully along the floor before committing her weight forward. After a few steps, the corridor began to curve.

A moment later, she had followed it right back to the same little room again.

Chapter 19

THE CORPSE

ARIEL CLOSED THE doors to the circular hallway and stood inside the room. It might not have an exit, of course; this was the work of a paranoid who’s tendencies had been openly revealed. The room could just be a prison.

“Well, now what?” She said aloud.

A muffled response sounded behind one of the doors. She pressed the stud and found herself looking at the grotesque sculptured face again. All its features were exaggerated.

“What did you say?” She demanded.

“Pull my nose,” it said.

“Who are you?”

“Pull my nose.”

“What happens when I do?”

“Pull my nose.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“Pull my nose.”

She watched it for a moment. “One, two, three.”

“Pull my nose.”

She figured it out, then. This was a function robot without a positronic brain. It had one line to say, triggered by any sound of human speech.

Holding her breath, she pulled its nose.

The long, narrow nose stretched toward her and then suddenly snapped back, out of her grasp. On impact, the entire sculpture collapsed into itself, inverted, and pushed itself out the other way. Then the brick wall broke into quarters and each piece receded sideways, carrying the inverted face with it.

She was looking down a short ramp into another corridor, this one lined with glowing stones cut in the shape of the Keys but not in a smooth surface. Their corners protruded irregularly out of the wall to create a jagged, textured wall. The entire shape of the corridor as she faced the opening was in the shape of the corridor as she faced the opening was in the shape of the Keys, as well.

Still stepping carefully, she ventured down the ramp. After a moment, she realized that she was chillier than before … air was moving against her soaked clothing. Puzzled, she turned around — and found the walls, ceiling, and floor behind her converging to pinch off the corridor after she had passed.

She hurried forward a little, despite her caution, and came up against a stone wall at the end. Starting to panic, she ran her hands across the stones, feeling for a control of some kind. She felt nothing and whirled around to look at the shrinking corridor.

Suddenly something dropped from the ceiling in front of her and she flattened against the end wall, trying to see the object as it swayed before her face. She recognized it as Wolruf’s head, dangling on a long piece of rope tied into an ancient noose.

As she stared at it in horror, she realized that it was only a function robot rendered in realistic detail.

“Why arr ‘u ‘err?” The robot asked, in Wolruf’s voice.

Ariel’s spine prickled at the sound. She glanced behind the hanging head. The corridor had stopped closing behind her and now had left her in a very small dungeonlike space.

“Wrong answer,” said the robot, though she hadn’t spoken.

Suddenly the floor rose under Ariel’s feet, pushing her up toward the ceiling. The rope retracted with her, keeping the Wolruf head level with her as she rose. The ceiling opened and then the section of floor stopped, now flush with the floor just above the stone corridor.

The abrupt halt threw her off balance and she fell on a rich, gold carpet. Above her, five elaborate chandeliers sparkled and shone from a surprisingly low beamed ceiling. She rose up on her elbows, looking around fearfully.

She was in a library. Shelves of antique books, not computer tapes, stretched around all the walls and were protected by a transparent barrier of some kind. Turning, she stepped off the lift platform away from the Wolruf head.

A candelabra of some sort was on a shelf outside the transparent barrier that protected the books. It stood inside a blue and white bowl, leaning to one side. The candelabra was on a round base, with one central stem holding one candle and four branches arching upward on each side to total nine. She had never seen one before, whatever it was, and thought it seemed out of place here, as though someone had set it down and forgotten it.

She stepped back and looked at the bowl. It was large enough to serve four or five people plenty of food. Light blue designs danced around the white background on the outside. It had never been meant to hold a candelabra, though. Someone had left these here carelessly.

“What iss it?” The Wolruf head asked.

Ariel flinched at the sound and looked at the head. “A candleholder of some kind, obviously.”

“Wrong again.”

One of the shelved walls glided away soundlessly. She stood where she was, eyeing the dark opening that appeared. An animal — no, a function robot, almost certainly — stepped into a space where light fell on it. It had Wolruf’s caninoid body and Ariel’s own face.

“If you’re standing on the surface of the planet Earth in Webster Groves, Missouri,” said the robot-Ariel, “which way is Robot City?”

She stared at it hopelessly. “I’m no navigator. Not without some kind of information to use, anyway.”

Robot-Ariel cocked her head, turned, and trotted away.

The wall of shelves slid back into place.

Ariel sank to the floor in a mixture of relief and despair. She couldn’t just go on wandering aimlessly in the real-life manifestation of one man’s insanity. If this place offered a way out, she could figure it out. If it didn’t, she might as well stay in this room instead of going forward into some dungeon cell or something worse.

As before, her knowledge of Dr. Avery was the only source of clues she had, and she no longer had Jeff’s memories or Derec’s facility with robots to help. All right. Basically, what did she know?

She knew he was a genius, that he was paranoid, that he wanted to create a perfect society. But what did this crazy place have to do with order and rationality? What was it doing on Robot City?

Everything she knew about Robot City said that this place just didn’t belong here at all. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that every line of thought brought her back to that one conclusion.

“That’s it,” she whispered to herself suddenly. “He’s gone over the edge. He’s even crazier than before.”

In the heart of a planet-wide city based on logic and efficiency, its creator had lost his mind.

She smiled at the irony. It wasn’t funny, exactly, but it was... funny. Somehow.

Exhaustion and fear made her giddy. She began to giggle. The more she thought about this — about all their discussions of the Laws of Robotics and all their convoluted efforts to reason with the positronic brains of the robots — and how it had led to this.... She really began to laugh. She fell onto the floor on her back, laughing in the little room by herself.

The wall of shelves slid open again, apparently triggered by the sound of her laughter.

Suddenly on guard again, she sat up and looked around. The function robot with her face was back.

“If you’re standing on the surface of the planet Earth in Webster Groves, Missouri,” said the robot-Ariel again, “which way is Robot City?”

Ariel giggled again. “Up, of course.” She laughed — and the floor gave way beneath her.

She was in one more chute, twisting in a tight downward spiral. Just as it began to level off, the dark space ahead of her irised open into light. She spilled out onto a polished hardwood floor.

Shaken by the ride, she lay still for a moment gazing at a very high beamed ceiling that was nearly lost in shadows. She turned her head to the side and found walls of gray stone, precisely chiseled and fit again in the modular shape of the Key to Perihelion. The room was huge, stretching meters on each side of her.

She raised onto her elbow, still getting her bearings. The end of a large, intricately carved table was in front of her. Its legs and feet were sculpted in the shape of some furry, clawed animal she did not recognize. It was made of a dark, deeply polished wood.

Struggling to rise, she reached up and grabbed the edge of the table. She pulled herself up to lean on it and then froze in surprise. At the far end of the table, many meters away, a man sat in a high, straight-backed chair with a gigantic fire blazing behind him in a stone fireplace twice her height.

“Welcome, Ariel. I am Dr. Avery.”

She stared at him with nothing to say. After all the effort to find him, landing here like this was so unexpected that she hadn’t formed any plan of attack, any arguments to use with him. She wasn’t ready to talk to him.

“You are welcome to warm yourself by the fire,” said her host.

She was willing to stay chilly to keep away from him, but she wanted to stall a little if she could, without getting too close. Slowly, she moved around the corner of the table and began to walk down the side of it. Dr. Avery seemed relaxed, even unconcerned, as he fingered some small object in front of him on the table.

The long, narrow table had all kinds of articles on it: flowers, dishes, trinkets, small sculptures. She didn’t dare take the time to look. Her eyes remained on Dr. Avery.

He was short. looking especially so in the high-backed chair. His build was stocky. Wavy white hair framed his face, which was also adorned with a bushy mustache. He looked friendly and benign.

His coat was too big, as she remembered from the other times she had seen him, and he still wore a white shirt with a ruffled collar.

He didn’t look crazy.

Ariel stopped a good four meters away, still watching him. What was a crazy man supposed to look like?

“I was not expecting visitors, Ariel,” said Dr. Avery. He was still studying the object in front of him.

“Though I had warning that oddities, shall we say, were occurring in this vicinity.”

He didn’t sound crazy, either.

“Ariel, you don’t remember me, do you?” His gaze remained on the table.

“Yes,” she said timidly.

“No, not really. You remember me after the performance of Hamlet and when the Hunter robots located all of you in the passageways beneath the city and you remember me from when they brought you to me. That’s all.”

“That’s when we met.”

He smiled and picked up the little object. “Automatic alarms were triggered tonight. A couple of them, in fact. When a man who enjoys his privacy feels it may be disturbed, he likes to have alarms installed. Did you trigger them, Ariel?”

She watched him silently, surprised by his changing subjects so quickly.

“A humanoid robot mysteriously shut down completely just a short distance from here. Then a shift in the soil was reported. Did you do those, Ariel?”

“Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess. I guess, too. Violations of the provisional Laws of Humanics? Perhaps. I haven’t yet investigated the details. But how did you enter my abode?”

Derec was lying helpless along her route. She didn’t dare answer that question.

“One of the few weaknesses in my security here is in my emergency ventilation system. It opens when unexplained malfunctions occur in this valley.” He sighed. “I could have had the robots make it entry-proof, but it happens to represent my escape routes, as well. If no one could get in that way, then I couldn’t get out that way, could I?”

“What do you want?” she demanded, hoping to get him off that subject. “What is all this about, anyway?”

“Of course, I do have a maze that one must negotiate. It acts as a buffer zone. Perhaps you managed that.”

She was shaking with tension, unable to get a handle on a conversation that kept jumping topics.

“By the way, I’ve misplaced a couple of items. Have you seen them? One is an antique menorah crafted in the ancient Earth empire of the czars. The other is a Ming Dynasty bowl.”

She stared at him, vaguely remembering a fancy bowl.

“You really don’t remember me, do you, Ariel?”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“You have new memories now, clearly. You are not the Ariel I last saw. You are again the real Ariel, if you only knew it. A few more accurate memories will trigger the rest, I believe.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your memories now are accurate. It is the real you. The one you thought was you... no. You never knew a Spacer who contaminated you. You never had a disease. You will, I sadly suppose, recall the name... David Avery.” For the first time, then, he looked up and met her eyes.

David Avery. David. Derec...?

Suddenly memories did come flooding back. “David! Derec is David! And you hated me!”

“Oh, now, now. What I attempted with you failed. Bygones are bygones, eh?”

“You... what have you done?” She was horrified, yet fascinated. Finally, after such a long time, the mysteries were being answered. “Oh, no. Wait a minute. Is Derec really David... or what about the corpse? Was that David? Did you kill him?” She was nearly hysterical, partly from the shock of understanding.

“No, no, of course not.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “The corpse, as you call it, was merely a synthetic physical imitation of David. A good one, of course, that used genuine human blood. I used him in a dry-run test of David’s encounter with Robot City.”

Ariel, still quivering with tension but now composed again, leaned against the table for support. “So you planted memory chemfets and disease in me a long time ago to give me a false memory. Memories of events that never existed to replace my memories of real life. And... Derec is David.”

“And you were his lover. Oh, by the way, didn’t you ever wonder what happened to the corpse? The cleaning robots recognized it as nothing more than waste material and hauled it away.”

“You destroyed my memory,” she said again, slowly. “And his. The amnemonic plague was artificial, created by chemfets. It was you. To separate David and me. You must have given him his amnesia for the same reason.”

“I always knew you had intelligence. My son’s taste was always exceptional.”

“And ever since my memory returned on Earth, I withheld telling Derec the truth because I was afraid these memories might not be correct. All this time, I could have put his mind at ease if I had only trusted my memories.”

“A compliment. Consider my actions a compliment. Breaking your hold on my son’s will required extreme measures. Judge it as the extent to which he cares about you.” He leaned back in his chair, holding the little item he had been playing with. “Cared, I should say. He doesn’t remember even now, of course... but he does seem to have formed an affection for you allover again, seen by the way you two have remained a team.”

“You practically destroyed two people just to keep them apart.” Her anger was mixed with sheer astonishment.

“Ah, no. Sorry. You are not so important as you think. My other motive was to test my son’s resourcefulness. You see, if he succeeded in manipulating and controlling Robot City, then he was truly worthy of my final plan for him.”

“Final plan...? Do you mean to say,” she said slowly, “that you wiped his memory and placed him on that asteroid as a test?”

“It is what I mean to say and what I have said.” He sat up and for the first time his face reflected enthusiasm. “You see, Robot City has been finished. Now each of the humanoid robots here has had implanted in his body... one or two duplicate Keys to Perihelion. Even now, they are marching to predetermined sites around this planet from which they will launch themselves to different galaxies. In each galaxy, they will begin replication of themselves and construction of more Robot Cities. And David, my son who has now earned the right to act as my son, will control each and every robot in every Robot City... making him the most powerful man in the universe!”

“He what? How?”

“The chemfets, my dear. The memory chemfets in his body. You see, a tiny Robot City is growing inside him... and when it matures, his mere thoughts will control every Avery robot in the universe.”

“Oh, no... you are insane. You don’t know what’s happened to him!”

“Of course I do. The chemfets develop slowly and cause certain physical disabilities. I know that. They behave like a disease and can even cause the formation of antibodies in the bloodstream.”

“You’re murdering him! He’s almost dead now!”

“Oh, nonsense. The chemfets didn’t kill you, did they? I wouldn’t kill him, would I? After all this? Why would I throw away all this effort?”

“But you’re wrong! Your chemfets for me were much simpler. He’s dying!”

“Where is he?”

She paused, suddenly realizing the dilemma that Derec and she had never solved. They could not force Dr. Avery to cooperate. He had to be convinced.

“The central computer is calling. For several moments now, I have ignored a little light on my table here. I have done so because I know what it signifies, I believe. Excuse me, will you?”

Ariel stared at him, amazed at his composure and his refusal to believe her.

A small section of the table in front of Dr. Avery swiveled to reveal a computer console on what had been the underside of the table. “Would you like to hear?” He pushed a button. “I’ll set it on voice, which I usually find intrusive. Report,” he said into the console.

“HUNTERS REPORT APPREHENSION OF HUMAN NAMED DEREC.”

“Thought so,” said Dr. Avery pleasantly. “Report status of Hunter project.”

“THE FOLLOWING HAVE BEEN APPREHENDED AND ARE HELD ON THE NORTH SLOPE OF THE VALLEY: DEREC, JEFF LEONG, MANDELBROT, WOLRUF. STILL MISSING: ARIEL WELSH.”

Dr. Avery laughed casually. “Now, who would have thought I could outperform my own team of Hunter robots?”

Ariel’s heart was pounding with tension. If Derec was already in Avery’s control, very little risk was left.

“Dr. Avery. Will you agree to a test?”

“Eh? What kind of test? Haven’t we had enough testing around here for a while?”

“Have the robots check David and see if he is in danger from the chemfets. They’ll tell you.”

“A party,” said Dr. Avery. “An excellent idea. I’ll have the Hunters bring everyone. We’ll have a party.”

He tossed the object in his hand over his shoulder into the fire.

Ariel saw it clearly for the first time. It was a small model of a humanoid robot.

Chapter 20

TO RULE IN ROBOT CITY

ARIEL WATCHED THE gray stones, or whatever they were, in the wall dissolve into air for a moment and the Hunters brought in their captives through the opening. The first one carried Derec gently in his arms as though he were a giant baby, but limp and unconscious. The second entered holding Jeff Leong firmly by one upper arm as they walked. The third held Wolruf cradled on one elbow and the fourth marched in with Mandelbrot lying over his shoulder, completely shut down.

The stone wall reformed behind them.

“Clear the table,” said Dr. Avery. “Don’t worry about where the stuff goes.”

The Hunter carrying Mandelbrot laid him down on the floor and then extended his arm along the full width of the table at the far end. He then walked down the length of the table as his arm knocked everything it struck onto the floor. By the time he had reached the near end, Dr. Avery had himself swept aside the items within his own reach.

Ariel watched in horror. She had never seen a humanoid robot act so messily, even destructively, on a casual instruction. This one must have known that Dr. Avery wanted to be taken literally and did not want him to remove the items on the table with any care.

“Put him down.” Dr. Avery nodded to the Hunter holding Derec. Then he waved at the one carrying Mandelbrot. “And turn him on, will you? This won’t be much of a party with so many people feeling unsociable.”

Ariel felt some relief as the Hunter located Mandelbrot’s controls and activated him again. “Mandelbrot, tell him. Tell Dr. Avery what’s happening to Derec.”

Mandelbrot scanned the room quickly. His observation probably told him as much about the current situation as Ariel already knew. “Dr. Avery,” he said clearly. “Derec has undergone extreme physical debilitation that continues to increase. He believes that the chemfets you placed in his body are killing him. My observation of his symptoms confirms that likelihood.”

“Doesn’t anybody here want to have a party?” Dr. Avery sighed.” Everyone is so morbid. Say, Mr. Leong. Haven’t we met before? Not lately and not on this planet, however.”

“That’s right,” Jeff said sullenly. “You were more sociable in those days, yourself.”

Dr. Avery pushed back his chair and stood up. Trailing the fingers of one hand along the table, he walked down its length looking at the motionless figure of Derec. “He has done very well. I have not given him any challenge he cannot surmount.”

“Till now. “Ariel insisted. “How can you take a risk like this? Even your own robots wouldn’t risk his life for a test.”

Jeff, Wolruf, and Mandelbrot all looked at her in surprise. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll have any trouble. He’ll be fine.” Dr. Avery nodded to himself.

“Aren’t you even going to test him? Check him out in your laboratory?” She cried.

“He’ll be fine. Let’s have a party.” Dr. Avery turned to the Hunter who had brought Derec in. “Take him to one of the guest rooms, though. We can’t have a party with a guest lying motionless on the dining table, can we?”

“Hold it!” Ariel got between Derec and that Hunter. “Can’t you understand that he’s dying?”

“Pick him up,” Dr. Avery ordered.

The Hunter gently but firmly moved Ariel aside and lifted Derec. She threw her arms around Derec’s shoulders and hung on. “Wait! Mandelbrot, they’re letting him die!”

Mandelbrot was standing by the Hunter who had brought him in. That Hunter, however, had one hand resting on Mandelbrot’s open control panel. At the slightest resistance from Mandelbrot, the Hunter would shut him down again.

The next sequence of events took place very quickly, some of it timed by the speed of positronic brains.

Suddenly Jeff, who was still held by one Hunter, reached over and started grabbing Mandelbrot’s Hunter by the neck, feeling around quickly for his controls. The Hunter, required by the Third Law to protect himself, grasped Jeff’s arm in his other hand. In the tiny fraction of a second that the Third Law imperative was foremost in the Hunter’s mind, Mandelbrot stepped away and closed his own control panel with his flexible cellular arm.

From the moment Mandelbrot was free, the battle was on. His belief that Derec’s life was in danger forced him under the First Law to take Ariel’s anxiety seriously. At the same time, the Hunters believed Dr. Avery’s declaration that Derec was not in danger, so under the Second Law they followed their orders from him to detain and control the others.

Mandelbrot also shot out an array of information through his comlink to the Hunters. He told them of Derec’s delicate condition, of Ariel’s memory failures, of their physical hardships. In the tiny instant it required, he demanded that they back away from Derec and Ariel immediately or risk major violations of the First Law.

He did not know if it would work, but even the slightest hesitation and doubt on their part would help.

Even as Mandelbrot sent these signals, he moved toward Derec. Ariel let go of Derec to grab the Hunter holding him, knowing that the Hunter would be impeded by the necessity of not harming Derec or her. In a couple of quick moves, Mandelbrot’s flexible arm had shut down this Hunter in a motionless standing position, still holding Derec. Mandelbrot and Ariel lifted Derec and placed him back on the table.

One Hunter had now taken Wolruf and Jeff under each arm and had lifted them into the air where they squirmed helplessly.

“You’re hurting me!” Jeff shouted. “First Law violation!”

The Hunter was not convinced.

“Stop them!” Dr. Avery screamed. “Don’t hurt them, but stop them! And don’t collide with David! His condition is too fragile!”

“You’ve got to believe us!” Ariel shouted, turning to plead with him. “You don’t want him hurt, either! Just test him!”

They stood face-to-face now and Ariel saw a strangely twisted expression on his face. It was an angry smile of triumph. For the first time since meeting him, she understood that he truly was crazy — and beyond persuasion by reason.

“You did this!” Dr. Avery hissed in her face. “Without you, these extremes would not have been necessary. Leave him alone!”

“How dare you blame this on me?” She screamed, and in a mixture of frustration, rage, and exhaustion she lost her temper completely. Unbound by any Laws except her conscience, she launched herself at him angrily, grabbing his sideburns in both hands.

One of the four Hunters had been shut down. Another was holding Jeff and Wolruf away from Mandelbrot. Mandelbrot was trying to reach the unguarded control panel of this one with his flexible arm while using his other arm to grapple with the other two Hunters. With all the robots’ attention focused on each other across the room, they did not notice or respond to the potential harm Ariel and Dr. Avery might do to each other.

Dr. Avery grimaced in pain and growled at her as they shuffled around in a tight struggle.

Deep in the darkness of Derec’s mind, robots marched. He was lying on his back in darkness as robots stepped in rhythmic time with a precision only robots could maintain. They strode by him in files that split at his feet and tramped past him on either side, their heavy feet pounding by his head. He was ignored, insignificant, not even present in their positronic awareness.

Out of darkness, the robots marched. A slight glow of skyline shone behind them but mostly he could see only a bloodred sky above, one that had never really existed, where space stretched endlessly beyond the planet. Still the robots streamed past, intent on their destination with that single-mindedness so evident in the Avery creations.

Avery. Avery. Avery. The beat of pounding feet seemed to take on the name. It was name of his enemy, the name of... of...

His dream shifted. Even as the robots continued to march, he watched strange green shapes, some cubic and some pyramidal, rising in the air around him. When he reached for them, missing, he floated up after them. They turned, light shining off their different facets as they rose. He snagged one and it became a computer console under his hands.

He was floating higher in the air now. The blood night of Robot City threw its myriad streets into a golden glow without logic or explanation, and “Still the robots marched. His fingers seemed to type without thought from his mind: “Stop them.”

“NO,” answered the central computer.

“Stop the city.”

“NO.”

“Why not?”

“WHO ARE YOU?”

“I am I am I am... who am I?”

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

“I am... Robot City.”

“ERROR. I AM ROBOT CITY,” said the central computer. “WHO ARE YOU?”

“Who am I?”

“YOU ARE DAVID AVERY.”

“I am David Avery?” Derec stared at the name on the dream console. The dream console was green, made of a floating pyramid like a tiny Compass Tower... made of a chemfet.

He looked around. This wasn’t the real central computer. The blood-red sky told him how small he was.

He was floating in his own bloodstream, watching chemfets and Robot City grow inside him...

“I am David Avery,” he typed. “I am David Avery. This is my bloodstream, my body, my... Robot City.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED,” said the central computer.

The robots stopped marching. He floated in the air high above them now and looked down on the endless rows of robots. Every single Avery robot on the planet raised its head to await Derec’s commands.

He raised his head and shouted, “Robot City is mine! I am David Avery and I am Robot City!”

At his shout, the sky split. The scene dissipated. He blinked and gradually heard more yells and scraping sounds around him. A chandelier was blazing over him. He took in a deep breath — and realized that, for the first time in a very long time, his body felt normal.

His mind was clearing slowly as he came awake. His body was tired, and cold with dampness, but the weird stiffness was gone. He was no longer in physical danger.

“Derec!” Ariel yelled. “You’re awake? Tell him! Tell Avery what’s happening to you.”

Avery? With a surge of fear and anger, Derec sat up and found himself on a long table. He turned. Ariel and his father, Dr. Avery, were scuffling around in a circle.

“I’m all right,” Derec said hoarsely.

“What?” Ariel looked at him in surprise. “Then help me!”

“No!” Dr. Avery roared. “No! This is not right! You must help me!”

“Help you?” Derec shouted angrily. “You’re crazy!”

“Kill them!” Dr. Avery screamed at the Hunters. “Kill them! You must kill them or everything will be for naught!”

Ariel pulled free of him and turned toward the two Hunters who were still functioning; Mandelbrot had succeeded in shutting down a second one. “Dr. Avery is mad. You understand? He’s... he’s malfunctioned. You remember the Laws of Humanics that the Supervisors were trying to devise?”

Dr. Avery had backed away toward the fireplace. “You must save us!” he shouted at the Hunters. “Kill them!”

“Listen to him,” Ariel called out, now more in control. “His orders violate the First Law. You can’t trust his orders any more. Orders that violate the Laws of Robotics also violate the Second Law of Humanics, which says humans will not give robots unreasonable orders. Listen to him, and you’ll understand that he can’t be followed anymore.” If the Hunters had learned how she and Jeff and Derec had shut down Pei, they wouldn’t listen to her, either.

The remaining Hunters had not moved. One held Jeff and Wolruf. The other was in a stand-off with Mandelbrot, as each tried to reach the manual controls of the other to shut him down.

“Acknowledged,” said the Hunter holding Jeff and Wolruf. “Dr. Avery’s instructions cannot be followed.

However, the central computer also directs us. We are still under orders to detain the members of your group without harming them.”

Dr. Avery had cowered into a corner, still shouting.

“I am Robot City now,” said Derec. “The chemfets in my body have matured and I have reprogrammed them.” He visualized the computer console in his mind. Maybe he wouldn’t always have to do that, but right now it made the task easier. “Central computer,” he thought. “Eliminate the orders to the Hunter robots regarding Derec or David Avery, Ariel Welsh, the robot Mandelbrot, and the caninoid alien Wolruf. Then notify all pertinent robots of the change.” Then aloud he said, “Hunters. A new order should come through to you —”

“Acknowledged,” said the Hunter in front of Mandelbrot. He straightened, dropping his guard

“Acknowledged,” echoed the other Hunter, releasing Jeff and Wolruf.

“I received it also,” said Mandelbrot.

“Now, then,” said Derec, turning to Dr. Avery.

Dr. Avery was standing in the corner of the room to one side of the giant fireplace. As the others turned to watch him, he drew himself up. “Consider what you have accomplished, my son,” he said. “Think of it. Everything I envisioned to this point has come to pass as I intended. Well, almost — never mind this young woman. You rule in Robot City. Soon you will rule in every Robot City, in thousands of them throughout all the galaxies.”

A stinging sadness came over Derec, draining his anger. “You’re... not right. Not right in the head. You started out seeking a utopia and instead you’ve gotten sidetracked. This has become a springboard for power, not for good. Maybe if you took it easy for a while, got some professional advice...”

“You dare to order me?” Dr. Avery yelled. “No! You join me! I order it!”

“I’m not a robot. You can’t order me.” Derec turned to the Hunters. “Please detain my... detain Dr. Avery without harming him.”

The two Hunters started forward.

With a twisted sneer, Dr. Avery lifted a small object in one hand: a Key to Perihelion. He laughed derisively and then vanished.

Derec walked slowly to the head of the table, still looking at the space where Dr. Avery had stood. His relief was tinged with melancholy at understanding his father’s condition.

Everyone was watching him.

He turned at his father’s chair, resting one hand on the back of it. “Mandelbrot, please put those items on the floor back on the table. Hunters, your task is over. Please return to your holding area, or wherever you normally reside.”

The robots obeyed.

“Are you really okay?” Ariel asked, moving toward him. “David?”

He grinned and put his arm around her. “I guess so. David seems to be okay, and so is Derec.”

“I seem to be okay, too.” She put her arms around him and they embraced.

None of them wanted to split up for the night or go exploring for bedrooms in the Avery estate. As tired as they were, Derec, Ariel, Jeff, and Wolruf were able to sleep by the fire even on the hard floor. Derec knew that Dr. Avery might have transported elsewhere on the planet and could still pose a danger, but he doubted any threat would be immediate. Just before going to sleep, he gave a general order throughout Robot City that all robots were to remain where they were until further notice, except for minimal activities to keep the city operating. That way he would have time later to figure out exactly what status the city was in and how to return the robots from their assembly points to normal duties. With Mandelbrot standing by and Robot City under his own mental control, he fell into a genuine sleep.

The next morning, Ariel pointed out the table console to Derec in case he had a use for it. He really didn’t, finding that he was able to contact any branch of the computer system on the planet with his mind.

This morning he started with the one in Dr. Avery’s kitchen.

The entire group, including Mandelbrot, sat at the long table with a real breakfast served by two kitchen robots. It included fresh produce and dishes processed from produce instead of from limited nutrient tanks. Derec and Ariel shared their separate adventures with everyone, then Wolruf and Jeff gave their stories. Since Mandelbrot had been shut down for much of the time they had been separated, he had little to tell.

When the anecdotes had ended, Derec sat at the head of the table in an upbeat mood, thinking over his new responsibilities.

“I guess I can have the central computer worry about the particulars of what I have to do,” he mused. “If I instruct the central computer to return all the robots to their normal duties, it will do all the organization itself.”

“But you can really control it with your mind?” Ariel asked. “And you can program robots mentally, too?”

“Apparently I can. I’m still getting used to the idea myself.”

“To all your human attributes,” said Mandelbrot, “you have now added some of the advantages of a robot.”

Jeff laughed. “Without the liabilities, if you know what I mean.” He winked.

While the others laughed, Derec was aware of a message in his mind from the central computer, answering a question he had posed.

“NO EVIDENCE OF DR. AVERY ON THE PLANET HAS BEEN REPORTED,” said the central computer.

If Dr. Avery was here at all, Derec realized, he now had all the disadvantages they had had while on the run from him. They now had all the resources he had used. Even more, considering that they were not burdened by insanity.

Considering Dr. Avery’s paranoia, Derec felt certain that he had left the planet. Maybe he had gone home to Aurora. Perhaps he had returned to his apartment on Earth, or had other hideaways in reserve, as well.

“Thank ‘u,” said Wolruf. “Good brreakfasst. Could sleep morr now.”

“I believe we can locate comfortable sleeping rooms here,” said Mandelbrot. “The luxury of this room and this meal imply similar luxury elsewhere in this residence.”

“I’ll find a way to shut down the booby-traps and riddles,” said Derec, grinning at Ariel.

She laughed. “It’s hard to believe. For the first time, Robot City will be at peace, running smoothly, and no longer full of mystery.”

“And you have plenty of Keys to Perihelion with which to travel,” said Mandelbrot. “Perhaps Wolruf can be sent home.”

She shrugged her caninoid shoulders. “Resst first.”

“I wonder what kind of shape the ship is in,” said Jeff. “I only rented it.”

“Don’t worry,” said Derec. “I’ll have the Minneapolis fully repaired, cleaned, polished, and outfitted for you. We’re more than square for any debt you felt you owed us. But you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks,” said Jeff. He shook his head, grinning. “Robot City. It’s never been a dull town.”

When everyone had finished breakfast, Jeff and Wolruf excused themselves to accompany Mandelbrot in further exploration of Dr. Avery’s immense quarters.

Later, after function robots had cleared the table and Derec and Ariel were alone in the great hall, he stood gazing into the fire that continued to blaze. He still felt melancholy.

“Is something wrong?” Ariel asked quietly.

“Oh... I was just thinking about Dr. Avery. How his wonderful plans got all twisted. And how after researching cultures with Professor Leong and all, he just seemed to drop that subject after a certain point. He is obviously a brilliant man, yet he threw so much away.” He looked up at her. “I found out something, too.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure we stopped him in time after all. From what I can get out of the central computer, I think some of the robots may have launched themselves from their assembly points before I cancelled that instruction.”

Ariel drew in a quick breath. “If that’s true, then they will be building more Robot Cities, just as Dr. Avery wanted. And who knows what precise orders he gave them?”

“I may be able to find that out in the computer,” said Derec. “Maybe I can even call them back somehow; I won’t know till I spend some time on it. But there’s something else.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I have my identity back, but... I still have amnesia. I don’t have all my memory back.” He turned to look at her. “Finding my father wasn’t exactly constructive.”

“Maybe you could... oh, I don’t know. Perhaps locating your mother would help. Or some of the Avery robots might know of a way to help. Just think how much help you might get from Robot City and even the robots that may have left.”

Derec nodded. “I haven’t given up. Don’t worry about that.” He grinned. “That isn’t me. And from what I’ve seen, it isn’t you, either.”

“It certainly isn’t... David.”

Ariel laughed, looked into his eyes, and tossed her hair back. On an impulse, he slid his arms around her waist and drew her close. Then he kissed her waiting lips and felt her arms tighten around his neck.

Changeling

3605 A.D.

Chapter 1

BIRTH

“I FEEL UNEASY about this, Dr. Anastasi.”

Janet Anastasi glanced up with a half-smile. She brushed blond hair back from bright, hazel eyes cupped in smile lines. “And just how does a robot feel ‘uneasy,’ Basalom?” she asked with a laugh.

Basalom’s eyes blinked, a shutter membrane flickering momentarily over the optical circuits. Janet had deliberately built in that random quirk. She built idiosyncrasies into all her robots-eccentricities of speech, of mannerisms. The foibles seemed to make Basalom and the rest less mechanically predictable. To her, they lent the robots individual personalities they otherwise lacked.

“The term is simply an approximation, Doctor.”

“Hmm.” She wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and wiped it on the leg of her pants. “Give me a hand with this, will you, my friend?”

The two were in the cargo hold of a small ship. A viewscreen on one wall showed the mottled blue-and-white curve of the planet they were orbiting. Twin moons peered over the shoulder of the world, and the land mass directly below them was green with foliage. It seemed a pastoral land from this distance, no matter what the reality might actually be. Janet knew that the atmosphere of the world was within terran norms, that the earth was fertile, and that there was life, though without any signs of technology: the ship’s instruments had told her that much. The world, whatever the inhabitants might call it, fit her needs. Beyond that, she didn’t care.

Her husband of many years ago, Wendell Avery, had said during their breakup that she didn’t care about anything made of simple flesh — not him, not their son. “You’re afraid to love something that might love you back,” he’d raged.

“Which makes us exactly the same, doesn’t it?” she’d shouted back at him. “Or can’t the genius admit that he has faults? Maybe it’s just because you don’t like the fact that I’m the one who’s considered the robotic expert? That’s it, isn’t it, Wendell? You can’t love anyone else because your own self-worship takes up all the space in your heart.”

His remark had made her furious at the time, but time had softened the edges of her anger. Avery might be a conceited, egocentric ass, but there had been some truth in what he’d said. She’d looked in that mirror too often and seen herself backing away from contact with other people to be with her robots. Surely she’d been content here on this ship for the last few years, with only Basalom and a few other robots for company.

Avery she missed not at all; her son sometimes she missed terribly. Basalom and the others had become her surrogate children.

“Gently,” she cautioned Basalom. A spheroid of silvery-gray metal approximately two meters in diameter sat on the workbench before her, its gleaming surface composed of tiny dodecahedral segments. She’d just finished placing the delicate, platinum-iridium sponge of a positronic brain into a casing within the lumpy sphere. Now Basalom draped the sticky lace of the neural connections over the brain and sealed the top half of the casing. The geometric segments molded together seamlessly.

“You can put it in the probe,” Janet told the robot, then added: “What’s this about being uneasy?”

“You have built me very well, Doctor; that is the only reason I sense anything at all. I am aware of a millisecond pause in my positronic relays due to possible First Law conflicts,” Basalom replied as he carefully lifted the sphere and moved it to the launching tube. “While there is no imminent danger of lock-up, nor is this sufficient to cause any danger of malfunction or loss of effectiveness, it’s my understanding that humans feel a similar effect when presented with an action that presents a moral conflict. Thus, my use of the human term.”

Janet grinned, deepening the lines netting her eyes. “Longwinded, but logical enough, I suppose.”

Basalom blinked again. “Brevity is more desired than accuracy when speaking of human emotions?”

That elicited a quick laugh. “Sometimes, Basalom. Sometimes. It’s a judgment call, I’m afraid. Sometimes it doesn’t matter what you say so long as you just talk.”

“I am not a good judge when it comes to human emotions, Doctor.”

“Which puts you in company with most of us, I’m afraid.” Janet clamped the seals on the probe’s surface and patted it affectionately. LEDs glowed emerald on the launching tube’s panel as she closed the access.

“What does a human being do when he or she is uneasy, Doctor Anastasi?”

Janet shrugged, stepping back. “It depends. If you believe in something, you go ahead with it. You trust your judgment and ignore the feeling. If you never have any doubts, you’re either mad or not thinking things through.”

“Then you have reservations about your experiment as well, but you will still launch the probe.”

“Yes,” she answered. “If people were so paralyzed by doubt that they never did anything without being certain of the outcome, there’d never be children, after all.”

As Janet watched, Basalom seemed to ponder that. The robot moved a step closer to the controls for the launching tube; its hand twitched — another idiosyncrasy. The robot seemed to be on the verge of wanting to say more. The glimmer of a thought struck her. “Basalom?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Would you care to launch this probe?”

Blink. Twitch. For a moment, the robot didn’t move. Janet thought perhaps it would not, then the hand reached out and touched the contact. “Thank you, Doctor,” Basalom said, and pressed.

Serried lights flashed; there was a chuff of escaping air, and the probe was flung into the airless void beyond. Basalom turned to watch it on the viewscreen; Janet watched him.

“You never said what your reservations were exactly, Basalom,” she noted.

“These new robots — with your programming, so much is left for them to decide. Yes, the Three Laws are imbedded in the positronic matrix, but you have given them no definition of ‘human.” ‘

“You wonder what will happen?”

“If they one day encounter human beings, will they recognize them? Will they respond as they are supposed to respond?”

Janet shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s the beauty of it, Basalom. I don’t know.”

“If you say so, Doctor. But I don’t understand that concept.”

“They’re seeds. Formless, waiting seeds coded only with the laws. They don’t even know they’re robots. I’m curious to see what they grow up to be, my friend.”

Janet turned and watched the hurtling probe wink in sunlight as it tumbled away from the ship. It dwindled as it fell into the embrace of the world’s gravity and was finally lost in atmospheric glare. Janet sighed.

“This one’s planted,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Now let’s get out of here,” she said.

Chapter 2

THE DOPPLEGANGER

THE PROBE LAY encased in mud halfway down a hillside. The once-silvery sides were battered and scorched from the long fall through the atmosphere; drying streamers of black earth coated the dented sides. Ghostly heat waves shimmered, and the metallic hull ticked as it cooled and contracted. The echoes of its landing reverberated for a long time among the hills.

Inside the abused shell, timed relays opened and fed power to the positronic circuitry of the robot nestled in its protective cradle. The neophyte mind found itself in total darkness. Had it been a living creature, its birth instincts would have taken over like a sea turtle burrowing from the wet sand to find the shimmering sea. The robot had its own instinct-analogue — the Three Laws of Robotics. Knowledge of these basic rules flooded the robot’s brightening awareness.

First Law: A robot may not harm a human being, or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

Second Law: A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not interfere with the First or Second Laws.

This was the manner in which most of known human space defined the Laws. Any schoolchild of Aurora or Earth or Solaris could have recited them by rote. But to the fledgling, there was one important, essential difference. To the fledgling, there were no words involved, only deep, core compulsions. The fledgling had no sense that it had been built or that it was merely a constructed machine.

It didn’t think of itself as a robot.

It only knew that it had certain instructions it must obey.

As survival instincts, the Laws were enough to spark a response. Second Law governed the fledgling’s first reactions, enhanced by Third Law resonance. There were imperious voices in its mind: inbuilt programming, speaking a language it knew instinctively. The robot followed the instructions given it, and more circuits opened.

An opening appeared in the probe’s hull, and the fledgling allowed itself to rollout. The skin of its body shimmered, the myriad dodecahedral segments flexing and shifting as it stretched like warm putty. The robot extruded pseudopods to stabilize the round body. Sensory input was taken in through the skin: optical, auditory, tactile, scent. At the same time, a larger store of basic files was released into the receptive mind: a heavily edited encyclopedia of carefully chosen knowledge. It paused, searching the programming as it absorbed impressions of its surroundings.

A voice whispered.

Move away from the landing site. Beings may come to investigate; they may be aggressive and dangerous. Hide.

Which left the problem: how to move? The positronic brain searched the files and found an answer. The skin molded itself further, the pseudopods becoming muscular legs. The robot scuttled away quickly, moving uphill to a stand of coarse, tall grass. Its round body flattened, the legs retracted; it hunkered down, patient.

As it waited, it inventoried itself dispassionately. The Three Laws overlaid everything else in its mind, but there was more. Most of its programming, and indeed this very self-evaluation, seemed to be manifestations of the Third Law. It must protect its own existence; to survive, it must learn as much as possible.

Underneath the Laws was the layer of initial programming, most of which the fledgling had already followed in the first few minutes of life. Beneath that was a substrate of complex if/then branches. The robot ignored most of those — they all fed back into the Laws in any case.

Only one set of impulses was immediately needed, and that flowed directly from the Laws. A robot may not harm a human being. A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings, the Laws insisted. But what was a human being?

The programming gave an answer, not a definition but a description: A human being is an intelligent lifeform. So the fledgling, not knowing what a “robot” was other than a term that applied to itself, knew it had to find human beings, to protect and serve them. It had to search out an intelligent lifeform.

It began to formulate a strategy.

The fledgling didn’t move; it continued to wait. Intelligence of necessity implied curiosity. An intelligent lifeform in the immediate area would have seen the fiery, noisy descent. It would come to investigate the fall. If no life that met the criterion arrived, then the fledgling would look elsewhere.

The area in which the probe had landed was heavily forested. Tightly packed trees with large, blue-green fronds huddled nearby and surrounded the grassy, hillside meadow. The area was alive with sound now, and the robot could see movement in the twilight under the swaying canopy of leaves. The air was temperate and fragrant with damp earth; the sound of running water trilled not far away. This was a good place, the robot decided. Human beings — whatever they might be — would probably find this location pleasant. Had they come here, they might well have stayed.

Afternoon faded to evening. The robot saw several creatures on the hillside, but none displayed any undue interest in the pod. Once, something with a thin, furred body approached. On muscular hind legs, it stretched out a long, four-fingered hand to touch the pod, and the robot saw a marsupial pouch on its stomach. Though the versatile hand made the robot watch closely, the creature did nothing to reveal more than animal intelligence. It wore no clothing, had no tools, and the robot’s sensitive hearing recorded only meaningless grunts from the beast. The marsupial glanced around with wide, scarlet-pupiled eyes, nostril slits flapping on its wide, flat head. Then it went back down on all fours and bounded off. The fledgling decided not to follow. Not yet.

Nightfall came with a surprising quickness after the sun slipped behind the trees; the air temperature dropped as rapidly. The forest settled into relative quiet as the nocturnal creatures woke and began to prowl. The night was well lit. The larger of the two moons was full; the smaller, at three-quarters, rose not long after full night.

Somewhere under the trees, a series of coughing barks rose, long and highly modulated. The robot began to listen closely as the call came again, slightly changed. Another voice answered the first, shorter and deeper; then yet another, followed by a shivering howl. The intonations were complex and varied, yet obviously from the same species. Already the fledgling had identified repetitive “syllables” in the phrases.

Twin-shadowed creatures moved under the margins of the trees, sleek and fast. The fledgling counted five of them, though more may have been lurking farther back in the forest. One of the pack broke away from the group, moving into moonlight.

The creature was caninoid. At least, it came closest to matching that type in the inbuilt files of the robot’s brain. That meant little in itself. There was nothing in the robot’s programmed knowledge that said a “human being” could not be canine. Standing on four legs, the animal stood a meter from shoulder to ground, powerfully built and broad-chested. The fur was mottled gray and black, glossy with silvered tips; the head was short-muzzled and round, with a large skull and wide-set, light eyes. The tail was long and furless; it looked nearly prehensile. As the robot watched, the creature howled again as if in challenge, revealing molars set well back behind a double rank of incisors — an omnivore, possibly, not strictly a meat-eater. The front legs ended in a clawed paw, but the toes/fingers were long, separate, and articulated, with a definite closing thumb for grasping. The thick elbow joints seemed capable of a wide range of motion.

It stared at the pod gleaming in doubled moonlight. It reared up on its hind legs (a female, the robot noted). With a stabbing motion of her front paw, she gestured: a wave.

Moonlight glinted on something on the creature’s chest, and the fledgling adjusted its vision to see the thing more clearly: a long, curved fang, hanging on a string of braided vine. Artifact! The word screamed in the fledgling’s mind, but she continued to wait.

Four others came out of the cover of the trees now, one gray-furred ancient, two adults, and a youngling. They moved swiftly to the sides of the first but carefully stayed behind her. The adults paced, restless. The ancient jabbered: half bark, half growl. The leader shook her head. The old one barked again, and the leader turned with a growl, showing her teeth. She cuffed at the old one, but the raking claws missed as the elder cowered back and lifted her muzzle to bare the throat in submission. The leader turned her back on the others and stared again at the pod. She approached the crumpled metal, snuffling.

She sat before it.

The tail served as support, and its agile tip curled around the back feet. The creature cocked her head to one side then the other. She sniffed again, leaning closer to the pod, then reached out with her left paw. Talons clicked on metal; she tapped the surface, listening to the faint, hollow ringing.

What she did next made synapses open in the robot’s positronic mind.

The tail flicked and curled around a small stick on the ground near the pod. The stick was brought up; she took it in her paw, clasping it between the thumb and two fingers. Leaning forward, she placed the tip of the stick under a torn flap of metal and levered up a strand of foil insulation. She pulled it loose and sat back to examine it, letting the stick drop.

Tool use. Coupled with the intricate language, the necklace the leader wore and their curiosity about the probe, that was enough evidence. They were intelligent; that also meant that they were human beings.

With that decision, the unformed body of the fledgling began to take on definite shape, as if unseen hands were molding clay while using the creatures before it as models. First, the basic wolf-like shape, the muscular leanness. The head extruded, rounded, then pushed out the snout of a nose and the flaps of ears. Fixed optical lenses focused in deep-set eye sockets, colored the same startling ice blue. It could not fully imitate fur, but the surface texture roughened, and the reflective patterns altered so that it displayed a vaguely similar silver-gray and black pattern. After a moment of pondering, the robot also mimicked the secondary sexual characteristics of the leader. The behavior of the leader suggested that scent was an important sense to them. That was simple enough. A quick sampling of the leader’s pheromones, and tiny artificial glands secreted an artificial wolf scent.

A gentle breeze was blowing downslope. The leader raised her head suddenly. She went down on all fours, and her lips drew back to bare the dangerous fangs. She growled, staring up the hill to the stand of grass where the robot waited.

The robot stepped out to meet them.

At the same time, without warning, the leader howled and charged.

Chapter 3

INITIATE

THE WOLF-CREATURE’S attack was maddeningly swift, but the fledgling’s reflexes were still faster. She had no time to retreat, only to react. The Third Law compelled the robot to move so as to protect herself while the First Law stopped her from harming the wolf-creature in return. As the snarling leader leapt toward the robot, the fledgling rolled so that her powerful jaws snapped shut on air, and the claws barely touched the metallic body. Even so, the force of the blow sent the robot flailing in the dirt before she found her balance again.

The fledgling bounded to her feet, turning, but the leader — strangely — hadn’t followed up her advantage. Crouching, the wolf-creature bared her teeth once more at the robot and uttered a quick growl that was obviously a command. The Second Law demanded that a human being be obeyed, and the fledgling had made the decision that the creatures were human. Yet without understanding the language, she could only guess as to what was being said.

She remembered how the leader had challenged the old one in the pack. She patterned her behavior after the ancient’s: she bared her throat submissively and backed away.

The ploy worked. The leader sniffed again, growled softly deep in her throat, and turned. She padded down the hill without looking back. Halfway to her followers, she stopped and glared back up the slope to the fledgling, standing motionless under the twin moons. The robot took a step in the leader’s direction; the “human” turned once again and continued on down the hill.

The invitation was clear. It seemed more dangerous to ignore her than to follow, so the robot did so, imitating the leader’s silent, fluid gait. Once the leader approached the other wolf-creatures again, the pack reformed. The body language and demeanor of the others told the robot that an established pecking order denoted precedence within the pack. There was a well-defined hierarchy in which a newcomer, by all indications, took the lowest rung. Even the juveniles bared teeth as the fledgling approached, and she hung well back as the leader barked commands. The wolf-creatures turned as one and slid quickly back under the cover of moonlit trees.

The fledgling followed closely behind.

Under the trees, the pack moved quietly and furtively. They had obviously been interrupted in the middle of a hunt. Just inside the trees, three young wolf-creatures waited for them. A flint knife hung from each of their necks, and they were yoked to primitive travois, long poles of dead branches lashed together with vines. The travois held the fragrant, butchered carcasses of dead animals. Each bump caused a cloud of black insects to rise from the meat.

The fledgling stayed with the pack easily; somehow, it felt right to be moving this way under the double shadows beneath the slow rustling of the leaves — having decided the wolf-creatures were human, her mind was already adopting their patterns as correct. The youngest of the juvenile carriers slackened his pace not long after they left the clearing of the pod, dropping back until he was abreast the fledgling with his burden. He made an inquisitive soft bark as they ran behind the others; when the fledgling didn’t answer, he repeated the sound.

He was obviously waiting for a response, yet the fledgling had no idea what was appropriate. She knew only one language — that of the words inside her head. She could give names to the things she saw around her, could even speak them aloud if she wished. She gave no thought to where that language came from; it simply was.

The problem was translation, to change her language into words these creatures used. She knew that once she got them to talk, she would quickly acquire a vocabulary. The robotic memory would forget nothing it heard; the positronic intelligence would discover syntax and grammar rapidly.

But without input. there was only a void. A void was dangerous to her, and that was anathema to the Third Law. If she understood them and if she could communicate easily, there would be a lessening of danger. She had to make them speak enough for her to start acquiring the knowledge she needed.

The adolescent was waiting for her response, staring at her as he pulled the travois through the quiet woods. The fledgling did what her programming decided was the highest percentage action. She imitated the sound the young male had made.

The effect was not what she desired. The youngster glared at her with a rolling of pastel blue eyes, sniffed disgustedly, and increased his speed to put distance between himself and the robot. She let him go.

For a long time, they wound their way through the paths of the forest.

The largest moon had set before the leader came to a halt deep in the forest and several kilometers from the landing site. The forest had gone dark and tangled. Large vines spun leafy webbings from the trees; the underbrush was thick and prickled with thorns. A cold dew frothed the edges of leaves, sparkling in the blue-white gleam of the remaining moon and spilling down on the pack from above. The fur of the wolf-creatures was beaded with it.

The leader prowled the edges of the clearing as the others sat on their haunches, tongues lolling and their breath steaming in the night air. The fledgling imitated them, watching as the leader sniffed the air in evident agitation. The robot sampled the air; there was a faint trace of a bitter animal scent below that of the wolf-creatures and their kill.

Nearby, a mass of tiny white-winged moths spiraled and danced in a shaft of moonlight. A sloth-like animal capered along the pathway of tree limbs, shaking down more of the dew. The forest was almost too quiet. The panting of the pack seemed very loud.

Beyond the clearing came a thrashing of leaves and the sharp crack of a branch breaking underfoot. The bitter smell was suddenly very intense.

The moths abandoned their mad cavort and fled silently.

The leader barely had time to growl a warning.

A nightmare vision burst through the trees nearest the leader. There was a glimpse of red, nearly phosphorescent eyes set in a head that looked as if it had been crushed: wide and flat with an impossibly long jaw bristling with rows of knife-edged fangs, fangs that the fledgling recognized as the same as the one that hung on the leader’s necklace. Below, two sets of reptilian, long-fingered claws flailed. The thing moved on thick back legs, larger by far than any of the pack, its stout body armored with beaded hard scales. A muscular tail whipped around it, tearing into the undergrowth.

It saw the pack, shrieked thinly, and charged. A fierce blow of the claws raked the leader’s shoulder, and she yelped in dismay. She crouched, ready to attack, but was obviously overmatched.

A blur of motion passed her.

The fledgling had begun to move from the first sight of the apparition, powered by the First Law.

Another robot, patterned after the moral codes of homo sapiens, might only have restrained the creature. But the fledgling was already adopting the mental patterns she had seen in her “humans.” She was a carnivore, a hunter.

She slammed into the side of the thing as it readied to snap at the leader. Powerful as the beast was, its strength was overmatched by the robot’s, and her new form seemed admirably suited to complement her mechanical power. Her teeth clamped down on the beast’s arm and twisted savagely. The thing bellowed in pain and reared back.

Still, the creature was too large, too bulky. A flick of its arm threw her off as it roared in fury. The huge mouth opened, giving off a stench of ancient, rotting meat. The beast snapped at the fledgling, but she had already moved. As it turned to find her, she leapt again, this time at the long neck of the beast. She hesitated as her jaws closed around it. But already the others in the pack were attacking. If she hesitated, if she waited any longer, they might be injured.

She put pressure on her jaws and felt the windpipe collapse beneath her crushing jaws.

The beast fell, choking. The rest of the pack swarmed over the body, tearing at it.

All but the leader. Panting, she regarded the fledgling, and there seemed to be little sympathy in her stance. The forepaws were braced, as if she were waiting for an attack. The dark lips were drawn back slightly from the gums to reveal the ivory teeth, and a low, relentless growling came from her throat. The fang at her neck swung softly from side to side.

The fledgling didn’t move. It seemed best to stand absolutely still. The leader’s icy stare remained on her for long seconds, while the rest of the pack ripped apart the body of the reptilian beast, while they reformed into a ragged line, while the younglings were strapped back into the travois.

At last, the old one barked a query. The leader seemed to ponder what had been said. Then her gaze moved away from the fledgling, almost disdainfully. She padded back to the head of the pack and howled. They readied themselves to move on again.

This time, the youngling meat carriers waited for the fledgling to go first. The pack left her a space well up toward the leader. The old wolf-creature moved alongside her. Just before they left the clearing, the old one pointed at the tattered body of the reptile. “Hrrringa,” he said throatily, then repeated the word.

“Hrrringa.” The fledgling spoke the strange word, also pointing. Hrrringa: reptile creature.

The old one nodded. His eyes, rheumy and bloodshot, narrowed with pleasure as the pack began to move again.

By the time the pack stopped to sleep in the early morning, the fledgling had learned several more words.

Chapter 4

KIN

PACKHOME.

That was what the old one (the fledgling had learned that his name was LifeCrier) called the cave dimpling a rocky hillside deep in the forest. PackHome was where all litter-kin — those of the same pack — dwelled. The fledgling had picked up a name among the kin herself: she would be known as SilverSide, LifeCrier decided, for her flanks gleamed like the scales of a fish, and like a fish her skin was hard and cold. The name seemed right.

“You killed the hrrringa, the SharpFang, and saved KeenEye’s life,” LifeCrier reminded the robot in KinSpeech. Following KeenEye’s lead, the group from the Hunt loped from the cover of trees and started up the long slope to the cave of PackHome. The moons (LargeFace and SmallFace, as the Hunt called them) had spent most of the night chasing one another behind wind-blown clouds. SmallFace peeked out from an opening and spilled light down on the pack.

“The news will spread quickly,” LifeCrier continued. “You have status now. Don’t bare your throat to any of the kin who weren’t on the Hunt. You had the right to challenge KeenEye for leadership of the Hunt; even though you didn’t do so, those at PackHome are all lower than you. Let them know your scent, but if one of them acts the superior, challenge them.”

“I won’t hurt litter-kin,” SilverSide said. Already it felt natural to be speaking in their language. She was no longer simply translating from that odd internal vocabulary she’d somehow known from the beginning. “I can’t.”

LifeCrier let his tongue loll out between time-dulled teeth: amusement. “Don’t worry about that. They’ll back down and KeenEye has to support you. She owes you a life debt.”

SilverSide had spent the last four days with the pack, moving through the forest and resting during the hot, bright days. She had helped them kill, watched them butcher the animals and send the younglings back home when the travois were full. She’d listened to them, always learning, as they complained about the lack of prey, as they licked wounds, as they groomed each other, as they talked about old fights and old hunts.

In the four nights SilverSide had spent with the wolf-creatures, she’d learned much of the complex language of the pack. It was a blend of body language, of modulated yelps and whines and barks. There were different modes of speech as well: the formal HuntTongue used between different packs or to stress superiority among litter-kin; an informal KinSpeech used in PackHome or between friends; the simple BeastTalk, which had no words at all but only the high emotional content of the raw animal.

Underlying it all were the strong instincts of the pack carnivore, and the robot was rapidly absorbing that mindset. Already her interpretation of the Three Laws was unlike that of any humanoid positronic intelligence. A robotics engineer would have considered SilverSide dangerously unbalanced; one who knew what she’d done to the SharpFang in the forest and watched her behavior over the last several days would have been certain of it.

SilverSide could already see wolf-creatures crowding the opening to the cave, which glowed green in the darkness from phosphorescent moss the kin gathered and used for light. They yelped greetings to the Hunt in glad BeastTalk, and there were happy cries at the sight of game dragging behind the remaining carriers. KeenEye led the Hunt to the cave opening, then sat on her haunches as the rest of the pack spilled out. She began speaking quietly to two of the other kin.

There were ten or more litter-kin who came from the cave mouth, and SilverSide could hear and smell pups still inside. The ones who stayed in PackHome during the Hunt were the nursing mothers, the infirm, and the very young. Some of them were already taking meat from the carriers and moving it inside. Others greeted mates while the two youngest from the Hunt basked in the obvious adulation of the immature pups.

SilverSide noticed the sidewise glances from KeenEye and the others, the half-disguised scenting in her direction. She sat alongside LifeCrier, just behind KeenEye and out of the press of kin. KeenEye glanced back at her with a hard stare.

“I’ve told the kin about you,” she said in HuntTongue, and there was no kindness in her tone at all. “I’ve told them that you are to be treated as litter-kin. A place will be made for you in PackHome.”

“Thank you,” SilverSide replied — a quick bark and a nod of the head. SilverSide made her response as cold and formal as KeenEye’s. The Hunt leader sniffed at that, nodded, and padded softly into PackHome.

SilverSide could smell LifeCrier’s strange delight at the exchange. “She insults you by using the HuntTongue. You know that?”

“She is the leader,” SilverSide answered. “That means I must obey her.”

“She’s still waiting for you to challenge her. I could almost taste the fear.”

“Why would I challenge her?”

“You came from the Void,” LifeCrier said. There was an eager lilt in his ancient voice, and he howled softly in BeastTalk for a moment. “I saw the trail of fire as you fell from the SpiritWorld in the stone egg. You’re the OldMother’s offspring. You were sent to us, and so KeenEye waits for the spirit of OldMother to move you.”

“I do not feel a spirit inside,” SilverSide told the old kin.

“You came from the SpiritWorld,” LifeCrier said again, as if that fact answered all objections.

“I do not know that, LifeCrier. There is no memory of it in me. I knew nothing before I crawled from the egg. I acted as it felt right to act. I saw KeenEye and the Hunt; it seemed important that I take on your shape.”

“That was the spirit of OldMother speaking to you.” LifeCrier tilted his graying head and gave a short, excited yip. “You’ve come as OldMother promised. You’re the sign of forgiveness. You’re her answer to the WalkingStones, and that’s why KeenEye is afraid.”

“The WalkingStones? I do not know the word. What are WalkingStones?”

LifeCrier had no chance to answer the robot’s query. KeenEye came back out into the night air and trotted directly toward them. Rather than halting as she approached, she continued so that SilverSide and LifeCrier had to give way or be struck. KeenEye sat exactly where SilverSide had been sitting.

“The Hunt must go back out,” she said in KinSpeech. “The meat we killed fills barely half the food cave. We wasted time finding the stone egg and SilverSide.”

SilverSide said nothing, but LifeCrier gave a short bark of derision. “A waste of time that saved your life,” he told KeenEye. “You should thank the OldMother for sending you such a waste.”

KeenEye gave a low BeastTongue growl as SmallFace slid back into cloud cover. Her eyes were bright in the gloom, touched with flecks of green from the phosphorus around the cave mouth. The wind ruffled the long fur around her neck and brought the scent of forest. “Had we not gone looking for the egg, perhaps we would never have met the SharpFang and I would not have a life debt to SilverSide. And only an old litter-kin too ancient to sire pups says that OldMother sent the egg. But that doesn’t matter. The Hunt has to feed the kin.”

“You know that finding SilverSide wasn’t the reason the meat was scarce. It’s the Hill of Stars and the WalkingStones — that’s what has made the prey scarce, and that’s why OldMother sent SilverSide to us.” LifeCrier was slipping into HuntTongue, his words and posture becoming more stylized. “I, LifeCrier, say this because the AllSpirit lives in me. I will not let KeenEye deceive the litter-kin.”

KeenEye snarled, showing her teeth. “Do you want to challenge me, old one? Do you want to lead the Hunt yourself? Fine, I’m ready.”

Others of the litter-kin were filling the cleared area around the cave mouth, watching silently. SilverSide could scent the tension. Her senses were almost hyper-aware, driven by First Law programming that translated as a feeling of uneasiness. She readied herself to move, to come between LifeCrier and KeenEye if they began to fight.

But LifeCrier shook his grizzled head. “The AllSpirit told me that I was to speak the history of all kin, not lead the pack, KeenEye. That’s why I am LifeCrier. I’ve no interest in challenging you. If you wish, I’ll submit now.” With that, LifeCrier lifted his head so that the throat was exposed to KeenEye. For a moment, the tableau held, KeenEye quivering on the edge of attack and SilverSide ready to intercept the leader’s rush.

But KeenEye did nothing. Slowly, LifeCrier let his muzzle drop. His demeanor was haughty, knowing that he’d won this confrontation. “SilverSide is the gift of the OldMother,” he declared loudly so that all the others could hear.

“The truth of that remains to be seen,” KeenEye grumbled.

“Haven’t the WalkingStones taken the lives of kin? Haven’t they driven the prey from the forest around them? Haven’t we seen pups starve and mothers’ milk become thin? Haven’t OneEye’s and ScarredPaw’s packs warned us not to enter their territory, knowing how desperate we are?”

“Yes,” KeenEye admitted, “but that says nothing about SilverSide.”

“I know the old tales — I had them from the old LifeCrier, as he had them from the one before him on down through time. The spirits of kin past live in me. I know what I know.” Again, LifeCrier began using the HuntTongue as if reciting a litany. “I saw the fiery egg leave a trail across the Void to lead the Hunt. When SilverSide revealed herself, we could all smell the scent of litter-kin. The AllSpirit woke in me as I tasted it.”

LifeCrier rose up on his hind legs, pointing with a forepaw over the treetops to the west. “Look, we’ve seen the Hill of Stars from PackHome for ten Dances. Doesn’t the sight of it make the fur rise on your back?”

Silverside looked to where the old one had pointed. Faintly, through the swaying foliage, she could see a triangular shape a long distance away. Its dim bulk was pricked with lights as bright as the stars. She adjusted her vision, bringing the thing into sharper focus. Unwinking rectangles of yellow light were set in a dark pyramid of stone. Artifact. There was no translation for that word in the language of kin. Artifact.

The vision filled her with a need to know more.

“The old tales have muddled your head,” KeenEye was telling LifeCrier.

“The old tales begin to seem too much like now, I’d say instead,” LifeCrier answered, and there was a soft rumble of agreement from the kin around them. “It is as if GrayMane walked again.”

SilverSide tore her attention away from the sight of the Hill of Stars. “Who is GrayMane?” she asked. At that, KeenEye sniffed laughter.

“So OldMother’s supposed offspring doesn’t know the old tales,” she spat. “I know them all too well. And I’ve little enough time to spend in PackHome to listen to them again.” With a shake of her head, she rose and went into the cave. Most of the kin followed her, but a few remained behind on the ledge.

“Who is GrayMane?” SilverSide asked again.

LifeCrier had watched KeenEye’s departure. Now he turned back to SilverSide and nodded. “I will tell you,” he said formally. Raising his muzzle, he gave a long, mournful howl.

Chapter 5

LIFECRIER’S TALE

LISTEN, OH KIN! (LifeCrier began). Gather here and listen.

I speak of a time before time.

I speak to the spirits that live in you so they too will listen and know that we haven’t forgotten them.

I speak of the ending days before the One Great Pack splintered.

In that long, last winter, two kin of the Final Litter, sister and brother, came to be possessed by their ancestor spirits. GrayMane was taken by the spirit of the OldMother (may Her name be praised), and, with the wisdom of the OldMother, she became the first of us to speak the language of the Kin. SplitEar, her brother, was taken by the spirit of the FirstBeast, and thus he spoke no language at all.

This is the way of things, my kin. Both GrayMane and SplitEar wished to rule the Great Pack. Litter-kin though they were, no two kin were less alike than GrayMane and SplitEar. SplitEar was strong and vital. He was the largest and most powerful of the hunting males, and the savage instinct of the FirstBeast rode easily in him. No other of the pack challenged his right to lead the Hunt.

None except his sister GrayMane.

GrayMane didn’t have SplitEar’s hunting skills. Her nose wasn’t as keen to follow the scent of the prey, her eyes weren’t as piercing in the darkness under the trees, her body wasn’t as large or as powerful.

Still, her soul was like that of a crystalline rock, unbreakable. GrayMane’s challenge of SplitEar was a horrible struggle, and many in the Great Pack believed the two would kill each other before one of the two submitted. Their fight on that fateful night lasted from the rising of SmallFace to its setting, and their growling could be heard throughout the lost caves of that first PackHome.

But at last GrayMane realized that she was overmatched. Her brother must win, and so she bared her throat to him. SplitEar howled his triumph to LargeFace as the strongest have always howled, and GrayMane slunk away to lick her terrible wounds. When SplitEar led the hunters out, GrayMane stayed behind watching enviously with the pups, the nursing mothers, and others in the pack too weak to hunt.

So it was for two dances of the moons. The Great Pack was a wonder, my kin, even then at the end of its time. The Hunt was a glorious vision, with thousands of kin flowing like quick gray shadows under the trees. PackHome was a vast network of caverns bigger than the forest in which we live now, and each litter mother had her own place within it. The instincts of the SpiritPack drove them, and even without the OldMother’s gift of words, the kin had become most favored of all creatures. Of all the beasts of the world, there were none more feared.

Now listen to me, for we come to the crux. The nights of the One Great Pack were passing quickly. The Hunt was failing, even as our hunt fails us now. The kin had become too numerous for the land to support; they had preyed too long in the same area. SplitEar had to lead the Hunt farther and farther from PackHome, and few carriers came back from the Hunt bearing meat for GrayMane and the thousands of others.

The forest then was far more dangerous. Huge SharpFangs, larger and more cunning than the one killed by SilverSide, lurked in the tree gloom. In times before, they had left the kin alone unless they found a straggler from the Hunt or came on a pup wandering in the forest. But now, with the prey animals killed or driven far away, the SharpFangs had only the kin to eat. Maddened by hunger, they hunted the kin as the kin hunted their own food, not caring for their losses.

A large group of SharpFangs followed the Hunt. During the brightness when the hunters slept, they would attack every day. Without speech, SplitEar and the hunters couldn’t act as kin do now, helping each other and coordinating their defense. By the time the third moondance was done, SplitEar had lost a full half of the Hunt and had to return to PackHome.

SplitEar feared that he’d find there only the bones of the rest of the kin. The spirits in him knew that the end had come for the One Pack. The time had come for the Splintering.

During the nights of the long Hunt, GrayMane had done as the OldMother commanded and taught the kin left at PackHome the gift of speech. The wisdom of the OldMother was never more needed.

For SplitEar was right. The SharpFangs did rage from the forest to attack PackHome, and GrayMane led the kin against them. Armed with words, able to warn each other and arrange their defenses, the kin killed several of the beasts and sent the rest fleeing back into the forest. Though their own losses were still grievous, they survived. The kin praised GrayMane and the OldMother with their new speech.

So it was that when the stragglers of SplitEar’s Hunt returned to PackHome at last, they found not bones broken and licked clean of marrow, but the heads of dead SharpFangs hung on poles as warning. GrayMane and the others came out to meet SplitEar. When they saw how few had returned, they howled their lament to the moons.

“How could this have happened?” GrayMane asked SplitEar. SplitEar could smell the pride in GrayMane, for she had defended PackHome well and knew it. But SplitEar couldn’t understand the words GrayMane spoke and so could not reply.

Now, as all kin know, OldMother and FirstBeast have always been at odds, even in the Void. FirstBeast roused a jealousy in SplitEar so that he believed GrayMane was challenging him once more. With a terrible growling, he threatened GrayMane. She cowered back.

“There is no challenge here, SplitEar,” she told him. “I beg of you, litter-kin, let us become friends. Let me teach you the O1dMother’s speech so we can plan for the good of the pack.”

The spirit of FirstBeast made SplitEar angrier yet, and he rushed at his sister. She bared her neck immediately to him, but FirstBeast’s rage made SplitEar brutal, and he ripped the throat from her.

The earth drank GrayMane ‘s blood as the spirit of OldMother wailed

“All kin are cursed!” OldMother cried as her spirit fled from GrayMane. Her fearsome shape hung before the cowering kin, blackening the sky, and her eyes like fire burned them. A raging wind howled and shrieked around her, and dark thunderclouds were her fur.

“The One Pack will now be scattered and diminished. You have thrown away my gift like dumb animals. Now I throw away my protection. You shall howl like the stupid animals you are and not understand one another. Before any kin remembers my gift again, a thousand Great Dances will pass. I will teach others who will listen before you. I tell you, the kin will hear stones speaking before I forgive you.”

The AllSpirit heard OldMother’s curse and thus it came to be. Those of the kin who had learned to speak were afraid of SplitEar’s anger and so remained silent. SplitEar would not lead the kin away from PackHome. The Hunt returned to the forest but found little food, and the SharpFangs returned. SplitEar himself was killed in one such attack, and PackHome was overrun. The beasts cracked the bones of kin and licked them clean. Those who survived fled into the woods — like animals they ran, splitting into small packs of litter-kin.

So it was that the time of the One Pack came to an end.

Chapter 6

THE HUNT

“SO YOU THINK I am GrayMane returned again?” SilverSide said after LifeCrier had finished the tale.

“I do,” LifeCrier answered emphatically, still speaking in the formal HuntTongue. “You have come to lead us back to the time of the Great Pack. Can you deny it, SilverSide? Can you say with certainty that I am wrong?”

The robot searched her memory. There was nothing there that directly contradicted the possibility, improbable as it might seem. Beyond the moment of her awakening in this place and the erratic store of knowledge she’d been given, there was nothing. Yet...

“I can’t,” SilverSide answered truthfully, as she had to. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You told me that you were formless as the Void itself when you came. You said that when you saw us, you felt compelled to change your shape so that you looked like us.”

“That is true.”

“Then what I’ve said is also true,” LifeCrier answered triumphantly, and gave a joyous howl that many of the others joined with. “You’ve been sent because of the WalkingStones and the Hill of Stars. I know it, SilverSide. I know it as I know the old tales. You’re the sign that the OldMother has forgiven us.”

SilverSide was troubled. The delicate balance of the Three Laws shifted in her mind, weighing priorities. “Perhaps,” she said again. “Possibly. I don’t know, LifeCrier. I cannot answer you. I don’t know.”

SilverSide glanced back at PackHome. KeenEye sat on her haunches at the entrance to the cave, limned in the glow of the moss. The smell of woodfires smoke-preserving the meat in the cold caves was strong in the night. KeenEye stared at SilverSide and the gathering of kin around her, and there was a distinct menace in her gaze. SilverSide knew that if she tried to brush past KeenEye into PackHome, there would be a challenge. Here and now, with no way to back out of it.

First Law imperatives made her turn aside instead, though she hesitated.

With the kin watching, she padded away toward a trail that led to the top of the hill. As she moved away, KeenEye stirred and called after her.

“The Hunt will go out again tomorrow,” the leader said in commanding HuntTongue. “You will join us again instead of staying behind at PackHome.”

The robot looked back. The Second Law was clear here: KeenEye was a human and the leader. “As you wish,” she said.

KeenEye nodded. Her eyes glinted, her lips lifted above her incisors. She gave a low BeastTalk growl and settled down in front of the entrance.

SilverSide turned away from the other kin and continued on. She spent the rest of the night alone at the summit of the hill, staring at the moons and the Hill of Stars in the distance. She pondered all that LifeCrier had said and mused over the differences between herself and the kin.

If there was an OldMother, as LifeCrier insisted, She said nothing to SilverSide that night.

KeenEye said nothing to the robot when she came down from the hilltop in the first light of morning.

LifeCrier was as friendly as ever, but the other kin were less eager than they had been the night before, sensing the unresolved conflict with KeenEye. Where LifeCrier came up to her eagerly, his tongue stroking her face in the greetings of kin, the rest of the wolf-creatures hung back. Though they made way for her as they would have for any higher-status kin, they said very little to her unless she spoke first.

SilverSide’s behavior didn’t help things. At full light, KeenEye ordered the meat to be dragged from the storage caves for the communal meal. The kin gathered in the largest of the caves, sitting down in a large ragged circle, the pups running in and out among the adults. Smoke-preserved flanks passed from hand to hand.

SilverSide declined her portion.

“I don’t eat,” she said to the startled adolescent who handed the robot her share. It was only the simple truth — Silverside hadn’t even thought it strange. It simply was — a fact that somehow she knew. “I cannot even if I wished. It is not necessary for me.”

But she heard the BeastTalk grumbling and speculation from some of the others. “You see, KeenEye?” LifeCrier had said. “She is part of the Void, not of the earth. She is full of the spirit of the OldMother.”

KeenEye responded with a howl of irritation. “Give her nothing, then, if she insists on playing the OldMother,” the leader barked. “And if she hasn’t the strength for the Hunt because of it, let the SharpFangs have her.” KeenEye growled and stalked from the cave herself, smelling of anger and resentment.

The rest of the day, all the kin but LifeCrier avoided her, though she’d felt them watching and sniffed their uncertainty. Watching and wondering.

The Hunt left PackHome in the early evening, after the heat of the day had subsided and the sunlight turned to evening’s gold-green. This time, none of the other kin would place themselves ahead of SilverSide. She was second in the ragged line of kin that trotted down the hill into the green, scent-filled forest.

PackHome was quickly lost behind a screen of foliage and the Hunt was immersed in the sights and scents of the forest. Birds were beginning to settle in their roosts for the corning night; quick shadows flitting through the branches. Smaller animals scuttled through the underbrush as the pack moved quickly past. KeenEye led them into the glow of the setting sun, and SilverSide wondered at that — the perfect recall of her robotic mind could not forget LifeCrier’s remark that the WalkingStones, whatever they were, had driven away the game near the Hill of Stars.

Yet KeenEye padded unerringly in that direction. Once one of the younger kin had questioned KeenEye’s path, and the leader had simply turned with a BeastTongue growl that sent the adolescent into submissive silence.

After that, there was no more conversation within the pack at all. They followed KeenEye silently along the winding game trails.

Had SilverSide been human or even kin, she might have marveled at the sights, scents, and sounds of the forest. She might have gaped at the papery pods the size of a youngling dangling from vines and wriggling with some gelatinous interior life. She might have stopped to sniff the perfumed sap oozing up from below a rocky slope. She might have been startled by the shrill rasp of tall weeds that were moving though there was no wind. She might have been captivated by the assorted small animals that leaped across the path or watched as the kin loped quickly by.

Her positronic brain saw it all but without passion. She cared only for that which affected the intricate balance of the Three Laws. She noted that although the small life was abundant, there were few signs of the larger creatures that were food for the kin. She noted the growing apprehension of the pack as KeenEye continued westward.

That resonated with the Laws.

She saw how LifeCrier and the others watched her, waiting to see what the spirit of the OldMother would do, and she wondered if — just maybe — these priorities she felt were a reflection of a goddess’s will. Her logic circuits snickered at the thought but couldn’t entirely banish the possibility.

The weight of possible danger, tweaking the First Law, nudged SilverSide into speech. She lengthened her stride, moving alongside KeenEye. She used careful KinSpeech, not wanting KeenEye to feel formally challenged. “I’ve heard LifeCrier and the others say that the meat animals have all left because of the WalkingStones. Is that true, KeenEye?”

“The OldMother didn’t bother to tell you?”

“No,” the robot answered. Then, when KeenEye said nothing further: “Is it true?” she asked again.

A nod. “You have a problem with that?” KeenEye would not look at her. She continued to trot, her red tongue lolling out between the knives of teeth.

The leader was leaving SilverSide no opening for further questions, forcing the confrontation she was obviously expecting.

SilverSide hesitated. At last she dropped back into the pack again.

They continued on.

By midnight, the pack was very near where the Hill of Stars had glowed the night before. There was an odd silence in the woods, as if most of the creatures that normally lived here had gone. The very silence nudged SilverSide again.

She did what none of the kin would have dared to do. The decision was simple; the reasoning complex.

By deliberately failing to define “human,” by not even telling the robot that it was a robot, Janet Anastasi had forced upon her robot an unusual freedom of action and a liberal interpretation of the Three Laws. She’d made a construct that didn’t consider itself mechanical.

She would likely have been pleased with what the robot had done so far, with SilverSide’s “creativity.”

But SilverSide was still bound to the Laws. The Second Law demanded that she obey humans, and she had accepted the wolf-creatures as “human.” In a pack society, the leader spoke for all; therefore, KeenEye’s commands must carry more weight than that of any of the other kin.

Yet the First Law demanded that she protect human life, and logic led her to favor the many over the few. If KeenEye was indeed leading the pack into danger, the First Law demanded action. Yet she’d already seen that the very lifestyle of the kin involved danger — the SharpFangs, the leadership challenges within the pack, the scarcity of food. One could not be “human” and avoid danger. That damped the strength of the First Law.

She had to know more. She might not be forced to action, but she was compelled to ask.

She ran swiftly in front of the leader. For a moment, SilverSide thought that KeenEye would simply ignore her and shoulder past, and the balance within her shifted again. But KeenEye drew up short. The pack came to a ragged halt behind KeenEye. SilverSide could smell their anticipation.

“If the kin need food, what good does it do us to go west?” She used HuntTongue, stressing the importance of her question.

KeenEye gave her only a low BeastTalk rumble deep in her throat. She glared and sat back on her hind legs, the clawed forepaws threateningly ready.

KeenEye was not going to answer the question, SilverSide realized. But then LifeCrier pushed his grizzled muzzle forward and yapped support. “SilverSide asks the question we all have, KeenEye.”

KeenEye looked back at the line of kin. They were staring back, quiet and very intent. SilverSide knew that the leader saw the subliminal challenge there. Most of the kin had gathered around LifeCrier, saying nothing but lending their unvoiced support to his question.

Frost blue eyes turned back to SilverSide. “Do you challenge me now, SilverSide? Is that what the OldMother tells you?” she asked.

“There is no food,” SilverSide said. “The forest here is empty of all the meat animals. That’s why I spoke.”

“You don’t even eat the meat. Why should you care?”

SilverSide searched within her mind. “I must do what is best for all kin.”

“That is the leader’s task.” KeenEye growled for emphasis. “Only the leader’s task.”

Balances changed again.

The robot had no doubt that it was more intelligent than any of the kin. She knew things, whether inborn memory or the OldMother’s gift. She could see a hundred ways to improve the life of the kin. She was also physically stronger than any of them, and she could change her shape if need be.

More intelligent. Stronger. The chosen of the OldMother. All that, coupled with KeenEye’s insistence on coming here, spoke through the Laws.

The decision clicked in her mind, firm and certain. SilverSide could best obey the laws in her head by leading the pack.

“I challenge you, KeenEye,” SilverSide said in HuntTongue.

KeenEye seemed to sigh. Her eyes closed as if in momentary prayer. “As you wish,” she said.

The wolf-creature came at SilverSide in a snarling rush, her jaws wide open to rip at the robot’s throat. But SilverSide, with the superb reflexes Janet Anastasi had given her, was no longer there. She moved back on her hind feet and turned, sliding aside just enough so that KeenEye’s momentum took her past her. Silverside reached out and shoved KeenEye as she tried to turn. KeenEye nearly crashed headlong into a tree, falling and rolling hard. The leader bounded to her feet quickly, but there was a dazed glassiness in her eyes.

KeenEye stood two-legged, howled at SilverSide, and leaped, fingers out to claw the robot.

This time SilverSide allowed KeenEye to strike her. Claws scraped on her metal flanks without leaving a mark. KeenEye howled in anger, frustration, and pain, and raked at SilverSide again, trying for the eyes. They were vulnerable, if her skin was not. SilverSide flinched.

Rearing back, SilverSide blocked the curving blow and grabbed KeenEye’s hand/paw, twisting the joint. KeenEye screeched, though SilverSide was careful not to break any bones. Slowly, she forced the wrist backward — as KeenEye thrashed to get free, as she spat at the robot, as she clawed with her free hand. Nothing she did seemed to hurt the robot. SilverSide was far too strong for the wolf-creature.

SilverSide forced KeenEye down to the grass and pulled her over on her back.

“Submit,” she whispered to the leader, and it seemed the others heard an odd sympathy in her voice. She did not seem happy in her victory.

“Kill me,” KeenEye grunted back, her lips bared over her fangs. She snapped uselessly at SilverSide. “I will not submit. Kill me.”

SilverSide put more pressure on the hold. Ligaments groaned. “Submit,” she said again. “I need you to help me, and you are useless to the pack dead. Give me your throat.”

The defiance went out of KeenEye. The paw was limp in SilverSide’s grasp. KeenEye tilted her muzzle back in submission.

Yet even as SilverSide stood in triumph over KeenEye, there was a crashing of underbrush behind her and a screech of pain from one of the kin.

First Law reaction whirled SilverSide around as a youngling was hurled through the air to fall near SilverSide. He rolled on the ground bleeding from a deep gash in his side and yelping in pain.

“A WalkingStone!” LifeCrier shouted. “Beware!”

SilverSide’s lips drew back in a BeastTongue snarl.

Standing over the wounded kin was the apparition that had just burst through the trees. It stood on two legs, its hands clenched into fists encased in a shiny metal skin. It was far larger than any of the kin, and if what it had done to the youngling was an indication, it was immensely strong. Behind the featureless head, SilverSide could hear motors whirring softly.

It smelled of lightning and stone.

The head swiveled. The apparition seemed to regard SilverSide strangely.

Then, with a swiftness that surprised her, it charged!

Chapter 7

A FIGHT

THE PACK WAS milling in confusion. LifeCrier howled a lament for the downed youngling as those in the direct path of the WalkingStone scattered. Only SilverSide was immune to the panic.

She could only respond as the Laws allowed her, and the First Law left her no choice.

She lunged forward, slamming herself hard into the chest of the constructed thing that had attacked the kin without warning. There was no hesitation to her action at all — it was a pure First Law response to protect the life of “humans.”

Her jaws closed on an unyielding metallic arm; with a strength equal to her own, the WalkingStone flung SilverSide away. She rolled to soften the impact, allowing her body to deform to absorb the shock.

She whirled back to attack.

LifeCrier and KeenEye had rallied the others. All but the carriers tethered to the travois formed a ragged circle around the injured youngling, protecting him from the WalkingStone. They snarled and snapped, making quick thrusts of their own but staying out of range of the powerful arms.

The WalkingStone had stopped, pointing a finger at the pack. SilverSide, in motion, saw the fingertip become round and a dark opening appear at its apex.

Weapon! The word screamed in SilverSide’s head.

“KeenEye!” she shouted. “Scatter!”

She hurled herself at the WalkingStone’s extended arm.

Metal clashed against metal. A line of searing, intense light cut a crazy swath harmlessly through foliage as SilverSide’s rush knocked the WalkingStone’s arm aside. The kin yelped and retreated again.

Gears whirred menacingly inside the WalkingStone. The smell of it made SilverSide snarl. The featureless, impassive face turned toward SilverSide, who faced it defiantly. Deliberately, the WalkingStone pointed its deadly, laser-tipped finger at her. The aiming beam tracked brilliant red across her body; the skin glowed white just behind. The ferocious heat translated as pain to SilverSide’s positronic brain; the “human” responses overlaid there made her yelp in response though the tough metal alloy was only scorched, not yet melted. Still, the attack disrupted circuitry to that side of her body.

She went down.

The WalkingStone turned its attention back to the pack, now huddled in a knot around the youngling “SilverSide?” LifeCrier called, her fear-scent strong. “What do we do?”

SilverSide tried to answer. Nothing happened. Her vocal circuits were temporarily gone as well.

KeenEye and LifeCrier tried to rally the kin.

The pack had its own peculiar method of fighting, as SilverSide had seen before on their way from her Egg to PackHome. She knew what KeenEye’s command barks said.

“Circle. Keep moving. Keep the WalkingStone busy, but don’t let it touch you.” A SharpFang would have been dealt with in much the same way, the pack whirling around it like a clawing, biting tornado, dashing in behind to nip at ankles and then leaping back, harrying the creature until — exhausted and frustrated — it gave them a fatal opening. Then they would swarm in as one and bear it down.

Such tactics gave the kin the ability to deal with carnivores far larger and stronger than themselves.

Such tactics were horribly ill-suited for their current foe.

It required no effort for SilverSide to picture what would happen if the WalkingStone used its laser on any of the kin. The urgent First Law need to respond drove everything else from SilverSide’s mind.

With the left side of her body still shut down, there was only one possibility. With anything fashioned to resemble a living creature, the joints — neck, elbows, knees — are the most fragile area. SilverSide knew that: as a shapechanger herself, structural dynamics were part of her core knowledge. Her malleable body shifted, altered. The mostly immobile left side she rounded as best she could; everything else she metamorphosed into a massive, coiled muscle.

She gathered herself. Aimed.

Leapt.

Metal boomed against metal like a thunderclap.

The WalkingStone’s neck was stabilized with supports, but none were designed to withstand the tremendous hammer blow SilverSide represented. There was a screech and a wail of stressed steel. Welds popped as the head was suddenly canted at an acute angle. The glowing eyes dimmed. The thing staggered, the laser fired wildly and high. Its knees buckled, it seemed to wheeze mechanically.

It fell.

As it fell, SilverSide heard its voice in her head. Oddly, SilverSide understood it, for the thing spoke in the language she’d been born with. Central, under attack, badly damaged and shutting down.... The voice trailed off. None of the kin looked as if they’d heard it.

SilverSide had fallen herself, resuming her wolf shape. As her body cooled, control returned. She managed to limp slowly to her feet, and stood on her hind legs over the fallen WalkingStone. It twitched spasmodically, but seemed no threat. Its mental voice was silent. As SilverSide watched, a plume of thin, acrid smoke came from the broken neck, and all movement stopped.

SilverSide lifted her muzzle and gave a BeastTalk howl of triumph as she’d seen the other kin do after a kill. The others howled with her.

LifeCrier and KeenEye padded over. Both groveled in front of SilverSide, baring their necks in ritual submission. “You are the Bane of WalkingStones,” LifeCrier declared. “You saved our lives and the lives of all the kin here.”

“Yes,” SilverSide answered. It was not immodesty; it was simply truth.

KeenEye rose, her eyes unreadable. “I was wrong,” she said. “What LifeCrier said of you is true. You are the wisest of us. You are the OldMother’s gift.” She paused “You are now the leader of kin.”

“Yes,” SilverSide said.

The decision echoed in all her judgment circuits. “Yes, I am,” she repeated.

Chapter 8

A HURRIED DEPARTURE

THE HARD THING under his cheek seemed to be a foot. It was attached to a very smooth and shapely leg, and at the top of the leg...

“Derec,” a woman’s sleepy contralto said warningly from farther down the bed. A warm breath tickled his shin. “I’m very, very cross when rudely awakened.”

“You don’t like it?”

Ariel wriggled under his attention. “It’s not..” she breathed, then sighed. “I’m just tired.”

“Too tired?”

She gasped. “Oh, you...” In a flurry of bedcovers, she whirled around. Her mouth touched his. She rolled him on his back.

Much later, they snuggled together. Derec reached out from the cover to touch the contact that caused the wall of the bedroom to become one-way transparent. Though in the middle of Aurora’s largest city, there was nothing to be seen but green, open expanse. They looked out over an expanse of a lush rolling meadow, crowned with a stand of magnificent trees. The orange-red sun of Aurora slashed through the branches, wedges of light outlined in a miasma of morning fog.

A native whose whole life had been spent on the planet might have shrugged — beautiful Auroran sunrises were commonplace enough to have become the norm — but in the year since Derec and Ariel had been on the planet, they hadn’t yet become blast. They gazed at the display as if the awakening world had arranged it strictly for their benefit.

“It’s very lovely,” Ariel whispered.

“Like you.”

“Flatterer.”

“Will it get me anywhere?”

“We’ll see. Maybe. A little later, anyway.”

“There’s no reason to wait.”

“Greedy this morning, aren’t we? Well, you’ll just have to cultivate a little patience.”

Ariel kissed him again and rolled from the bed. With a lithe grace, she moved across the room. She’d recovered entirely from her ordeal in Robot City, or at least it seemed that way. The disease that had warped her personality had been cured, her injuries healed. She had left Robot City and returned to normal.

But not Derec. The chemfets — tiny viral replicas of the Robot City material developed by his father, Dr. Avery — had been implanted in Derec. Though he’d gained control of the chemfets after they’ d threatened to take him over, the ordeal had left him permanently linked to the city. Even now he could, if he wished, listen to the inner conversations in his body and hear the sounds of the Robot City central computer, across light-years of distance. He could give the city orders, direct the actions of its myriad robots, alter its programming....

Derec did not enjoy playing god, no matter how minor a one. He didn’t enjoy being shackled to his father’s mad creation. He especially didn’t enjoy the fact that he didn’t yet know the full extent of that inner universe.

They were still chained to Avery, even now. Their return to Aurora and the tale of Robot City had made news everywhere on that world. They were celebrities. Even now, they could not go out in the public areas of the city without someone coming up to them.

The thoughts drove away his good humor. He looked out at the Auroran dawn and suddenly saw nothing. The dawn might as well have been a computerized image projected on a wall. He sighed.

“I know that look,” Ariel said from the open door of the personal. “You’re brooding again.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are too. I’ve been with you too long not to know. You’re thinking about Robot City again.”

There was an edge to her voice that made Derec grimace. Theirs had been a roller-coaster ride of a relationship: they never seemed to be able to settle into any semblance of normalcy. When things were good, they were very good indeed. And when they were bad...

That was Avery’s legacy as well — many of the memories Derec and Ariel shared were not pleasant. For the months they’d been trapped in Robot City, Ariel’s personality had been in a steady, disintegrating spiral, fluctuating between vivacious and darkly sullen.

At least she’d escaped. At least she’d escaped from that planet and been cured.

Derec could never leave Robot City. It would always be there within him. It was his, his responsibility, whether he wanted it or not.

“Derec, stop it,” Ariel said warningly.

“Stop what?”

“I’m not going to answer something that obvious. Figure it out yourself.”

He knew he should have apologized then. He knew he should have smiled deprecatingly and shrugged, should have risen himself and kissed her until she forgot the argument and the dawn was again something beautiful to see.

But he didn’t.

“Sorry I’m so stupid,” he said bitterly.

Ariel’s face was red with irritation, her eyes narrowed and her hands clenched into angry fists. “Derec, don’t spoil the morning, please.”

“I’m not the one who knows what everyone else is thinking. It seems to me that you claimed that ability. I thought everything was going fine.”

“You’re being childish.”

“And you’re being arrogant.”

“Arrogant? Damn it, Derec... Derec?” She stopped. Derec was no longer listening to her. He was standing in the middle of the room, his gaze inward and blind.

The call had entered Derec’s mind with an urgency that was almost painful. Aurora, the dawn outside the window, Ariel’s voice: they’d all disappeared in the frantic need of the message. The chemfets relayed the message to him.

Under attack, it said. The call was faint, as if coming from a great distance, much farther than the Robot City he knew. Request immediate help.

“What is it, Derec?” Ariel asked again, a look of concern furrowing her brow. Her anger was lost in her worry for him. Slowly, he came back to an awareness of the room around him.

“I’m... I’m not sure.” He was still holding his head with a look of inward concentration, listening to those whispering pleas only he could hear. “It’s the chemfets again. I’m... I’m getting a series of coordinates and a distress signal from a source claiming to be the central computer. It says it’s Robot City, but — Mandlebrot!” he called suddenly.

The robot slipped quickly from a niche on one side of the bedroom. Derec had assembled the robot from assorted parts, a hodgepodge of models including a right arm constructed of what he called Avery material — infinitely malleable and adjustable. The patchwork-quilt effect lent the robot, to say the least, a unique look, and Derec had a vast affection for him.

“Mandelbrot, you’re also linked to Robot City,” he said to the robot. “Did you just receive a distress call?”

“No, Master Derec, I did not.”

“If I give you a set of coordinates, can you tell me whether they’re anywhere near Robot City?”

“I can link with the Auroran Net and access records there.”

“Good.” Derec rattled off the coordinates he’d heard in his head. Mandelbrot stood silently a moment, then spoke.

“Those coordinates are for a region well outside human space and distant from Robot City, though in the same arm of the galaxy. If I have not received the message you received, and if those coordinates represent the actual source of the call, then I can see two possibilities: first, that Or. Avery himself has established a new Robot City somewhere, perhaps by using the Keys of Perihelion to jump to another world. Or, secondly, that the distress call is from a Robot City that is an offshoot of the original. We know that some of the Avery robots were sent out by the central computer to start new sites on other planets. Can you communicate with the computer yourself!”

Derec concentrated, but the wispy tendrils of the repeating call were gone as if they had never been there. “No,” he said. “There’s nothing now.”

“There’s a third, even more likely, possibility you’ve both missed,” Ariel said, hands on hips. “It was your imagination. You’ve done nothing but worry about Robot City since we left.”

“It wasn’t my imagination,” Derec insisted. “It was real. I know the difference, Ariel.”

“You said it was faint.”

“It came through the chemfets. I can guarantee that.”

“All right,” Ariel sighed. “All right. I’m tired of arguing. It’s gone now, so let’s forget it. Mandelbrot, you can go back to the niche.”

As Mandelbrot turned obediently, Derec shook his head. “No. I can’t just forget it, Ariel. It’s not that simple. You don’t seem to realize that, to a large extent, I am Robot City now. I’m part of it; I’m responsible.”

Ariel whirled around at that, her face angry. Her finger dug into his chest, prodding.

“No. No, you’re not, Derec. Your father’s responsible. Avery. Without his poisoning you with the chemfets, without his interference and his insane schemes, none of this would have happened — to any of us. You’re not responsible, Derec, any more than I am or Mandelbrot is or Wolruf is. You can’t blame yourself for any of it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“There’s trouble,” Derec insisted. “I can feel it. I have to go see. Mandelbrot, I want you to see that our ship is provisioned and ready to go by noon.”

Mandelbrot hesitated, caught for a second between the conflicting orders, but Derec was his primary master. His orders took precedence over Ariel’s. The robot nodded and moved to the computer terminal on the wall. Mandelbrot activated the screen and opened a line to the Aurora Port computer.

Ariel shook her head, dark hair swaying with savage motion. She jabbed at Derec’s chest again with the forefinger. “You’re not doing it, Derec. No. If this phantom city in your mind has problems, then let it deal with them on its own. That’s what the central computer is for. And if it’s Avery again, if he’s used his Keys to jump from Robot City to some other place he’s set up, it’ll be a trap just like the other. I’m not at all interested in stepping into his deadly little webs again.”

“I don’t want you to. I wasn’t intending to have you go along. I thought just Mandelbrot and myself...”

The words didn’t come out quite as he’d intended. Because I don’t want you to get hurt again. he should have added. Because I care too much about you. But her face was already clouded, and somehow the words wouldn’t come now.

Ariel nodded, muscles bunched as she set her jaw. “Fine,” she said, her words clipped and short. “Just fine. I’m sorry I’m such a burden.”

“Ariel...”

But she was no longer listening. She went to her closet, snatched a loose smock from a hook, and tugged it on. She brushed her fingers through her hair and gave Derec one last smouldering gaze.

Then she stalked from the house.

“Mandelbrot,” Derec said after the reverberations of her exit had stopped echoing through the house. “You should be glad that you don’t have to deal with emotions.”

“It has been my observation that human feelings are much like fruit.”

“Hmm? I’m not sure I understand.”

“If handled roughly, both feelings and fruit are easily bruised.”

To that, Derec didn’t have a reply.

Chapter 9

THE HILL OF STARS

SILVERSIDE KNEW THE normal pack routine with a kill.

The hunters would first tear open the abdomen and feed themselves on the warm, pulsing blood-rich meat. Afterward, their own appetites sated, they would use their crude flint-knapped knives and flay the carcass, cutting it into manageable chunks to be put on the carriers.

Now the kin circled uneasily around the dead WalkingStone. LifeCrier reached out and tapped at the thing’s stomach with a claw. “It’s stone, SilverSide,” the old wolf-creature said. “A magical creature from the FirstBeast. There’s nothing for us to eat. It’s a mockery.”

SilverSide came up to the body, the other kin moving aside for her. “KeenEye,” she asked, “have any of the WalkingStones been killed before?”

KeenEye seemed grateful for the attention, as SilverSide had expected. “No,” she said. “These are the Hunters of the WalkingStones; there are other kinds near the Hill of Stars, but they never leave that place. Every time before, we ran from the Hunters when we couldn’t hurt them. They’ve killed three hands of kin and more in the three dances of the moons since they came. The fire from their fingers kills.”

Three hands of kin — with the wolf-creature’s four-fingered hands, that meant that over a dozen kin had fallen to the WalkingStones in three months. SilverSide had seen perhaps thirty to forty of the wolf-creatures at PackHome. Twelve members of the tribe was a significant loss. It was no wonder that LifeCrier and the others were looking for divine intervention.

SilverSide crouched down alongside the WalkingStone. She examined the thing carefully. Her optical circuits noted a seam running along the abdomen. She slid a claw tip carefully along the edge, narrowing and flattening the claw so that it slipped easily under the lip of metal.

She pried up. Magnetic catches held tenaciously, then finally gave as she increased the tension. The abdomen covering lifted, revealing an interior of miniature servo motors, linkages, wires, and circuit boards. The kin around SilverSide gasped.

“There’s no blood;’ KeenEye said in SilverSide’s ear, marveling. “No muscles, no meat, no stomach. How does it move?”

“Magic,” LifeCrier said again. “The Eternal Ones have set them in motion against SilverSide and the OldMother.”

The answer sounded right to SilverSide. She could not refute LifeCrier, not with the strange gaps in her knowledge. LifeCrier had told her of the struggles among the gods. SilverSide had found nothing to disprove that she had been sent by the OldMother to serve humans. Given that, it was just as likely that the WalkingStones may well have been sent by FirstBeast or some other rival of the OldMother.

Still...

“The Hunter is not magic,” SilverSide told them. ‘The WalkingStones are MadeThings. They are tools, like our flint knives or the travois. They are like the dolls the cubs fashion from sticks, only the WalkingStones are stuffed with stone chips and vines from the Void. The power in them allows them to walk, and they speak with a voice you can hear only in your head.

“Look,” she said and plunged her forepaw hand into the WalkingStone’s entrails. Her claws emerged again fisted around the colorful intestines of the creature: a trailing, knotted coil of wires. The kin howled at the sight, half in lament, half in wonder.

“These are the guts of kin’s worst enemy,” SilverSide said. “The cubs back at PackHome could at least eat a SharpFang. Even if SharpFangs kill kin, they can also feed us. But not these creatures. This is the inedible meat of the WalkingStones.”

“What are we going to do, SilverSide?” LifeCrier asked, and his question was echoed by the others around them.

SilverSide thought for a moment. Then she tugged hard at the array of wires. Bright sparks spat angrily, arcing and dying on the ground. SilverSide flung the tangle down.

“Since they will not let us live, we will kill them,” she said.

A robotics expert would probably have been simply appalled and frightened and ordered the destruction of the robot. Janet Anastasi, SilverSide’s creator, might have herself been concerned with the robot’s behavior, but she would have also been intensely interested.

SilverSide’s mindset had nothing of a human being in it at all. The Three Laws were there, yes, but they had now been completely reshaped and changed. As the robots of Aurora, Solaria, Earth, and other human worlds were shaped and designed to mimic human behavior, so SilverSide had shaped and designed herself to mimic the kin. Indeed, because she had no conception that she was a constructed thing herself, she was kin, and she interpreted the inbuilt Three Laws of her positronic brain in light of her own “humanity.”

The WalkingStones threatened the Kin. They killed kin. And though she could have led the kin away from PackHome, that also would have meant the probable loss of life. The wolf-creatures were territorial hunters, and the neighboring pack-leaders had already warned them. SilverSide’s pack couldn’t move into another pack’s territory without being challenged and having to fight other wolf-creatures, nor would another pack have allowed them to hunt in their own territory.

Finding another viable home that was not already claimed was at best a dubious hope, and KeenEye and LifeCrier had already told her that the WalkingStones were expanding their holdings — even if SilverSide’s pack left, another pack would eventually have to confront the WalkingStones when they might be even more powerful.

SilverSide had reluctantly come to the decision to stay and confront the situation directly.

Yes, kin might die, but more kin would likely die if they left.

A human robot might have looked for yet another, more peaceful solution. But SilverSide was a carnivore, a hunter even though she herself did not eat at all; she took the carnivore’s solution.

Having accepted the wolf-creatures as human, she accepted their mores. Without further proof, she also accepted their mythology. The OldMother had sent her. She was chosen for the task. The WalkingStones might be intelligent, but they were made by another god and therefore were not “human” themselves. Though SilverSide couldn’t perform outside the Three Laws, she would do what she had to do within their limits.

As her new mindset perceived them.

What the carnivore could not avoid, it attacked. Dr. Anastasi’s experiment had worked perfectly well. Her robot had become something other. A very dangerous other.

Still, if it weren’t for the fact that SilverSide had just killed one of the hated creatures, the rest of the kin might not have accepted her statement. A challenge to her leadership might have been the immediate outcome.

Even so, there were questions.

“We’ve tried killing the WalkingStones before,” KeenEye said. She used KinSpeech rather than HuntTongue, not wanting SilverSide to think she was offering formal challenge. SilverSide listened to the old leader, sitting back on her hind legs and braiding a necklace from the WalkingStone’s wires. “They’re not like SharpFangs. SharpFangs are strong but very stupid. These Hunter WalkingStones can kill by pointing their fingers, and our claws and teeth do nothing.

“This one died,” SilverSide said. She placed the necklace around her neck; the other kin howled softly at the sight.

“Yes, but it’s the first.”

“It won’t be the last. I will show you ways to deal with them. This is our territory, not the WalkingStones’. They are driving away the game we live on and making this a barren place. Once the WalkingStones and their Hill of Stars are gone, the game will return and the kin can live as they please. We will take our territory back again.”

“You will show us how to kill them?”

“I will.”

KeenEye paused. She looked from the dead WalkingStone to SilverSide. “Then lead us, SilverSide,” KeenEye said in a rising shout and let out a glad cry in BeastTalk.

SilverSide took a strand of wires from the gutted Hunter. She quickly plaited another necklace from the colorful wire and knotted the bright coil around KeenEye’s neck. Carefully, she then did the same with each of them. “There;’ she said when it was done. “We wear the signs of our victory. Now, follow me. We must learn more about our enemy.”

SilverSide dropped to all fours. With a quick lope, she ran into the forest, moving westward toward the Hill of Stars.

Howling, the rest of the kin ran behind her.

Chapter 10

AN UNEXPECTED MESSAGE, AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL

“KATHERINE ARIEL BURGESS, you’re a fool.”

The image in the mirror didn’t seem inclined to answer the accusation. Ariel scowled at herself and slapped at the contact. The mirror dissolved in a shimmering crystalline haze and was replaced by a pastoral sunset scene. That only made her more angry, reminding her of the acrimonious morning a week ago.

She’d told herself that Derec would wait, that he’d still be there when she came back from her long walk. But he hadn’t waited.

When she’d finally cooled down and called the house in mid-afternoon, Balzac, the household robot, had informed her that Derec and Mandelbrot had left for the port several hours before. Ariel had called the port, wondering what she’d say if he was still there, rehearsing the lines in her mind.

I’ve changed my mind, Derec. I want to go with you.

But he’d already gone, and she had no idea where it was he was heading.

Ariel didn’t know whether that made her angry or sad or both at the same time. She simply felt confused. The intervening days hadn’t made things any better. Sleeping alone each night was too vivid a reminder.

She came out of the personal, wandering aimlessly through rooms that now seemed far too large and empty. She stared out the windows, fiddled with the reader, flicked on the holovid and as quickly turned if off again.

With a start, she noticed that the computer terminal was blinking. Feeling a sudden surge of hope, she started to press the access key. Stopped.

“Balzac?” she called.

The robot trundled from its wall niche in the next room. “Mistress?” it said in a flat, mechanical voice. Balzac was a utility model, unsophisticated and plain.

“The message on the terminal. Why didn’t you answer the call?”

“I monitored the message, but it was for Derec and did not demand a reply.”

“Who was it from?”

“‘Who’ is imprecise in this case. The message was a faint relay from a central computer system.”

Ariel’s lips pressed together. She inhaled slowly, thinking. “Thank you, Balzac. That’s all I require.”

The robot nodded and left the room. Ariel waited until it was gone and the house was silent again, then spoke her codeword to the terminal: “Euler” — the name of one of the supervisor robots on Robot City. Nothing happened. She wrinkled her nose.

She knew Derec’s code word as well; he’d made no attempt to keep it a secret from her. “Aranimas,” she said.

A foil screen scrolled open; glowing letters flickered across it as Ariel leaned closer. The message was short and succinct:

CITY UNDER ATTACK BY NON-HUMANS. IMPERATIVE WE RECEIVE OUTSIDE AID.

The message was followed by a sequence of coordinate numbers for the location. Ariel smiled. “Okay, Derec,” she said to the screen. “If the mountain has run away from Mohammed, Mohammed will chase it. Won’t you be surprised when I show up?”

She turned away from the computer, suddenly excited. This would serve him right. “Balzac!” she called. “I need you to make some arrangements.”

“Mandelbrot, the Robot City has to be somewhere on that large continent there — see where the two rivers meet in the forested area? The computer says that’s where the last message was ‘waved from.”

Mandelbrot, at the controls of their craft, punched in coordinates. “Have you been able to get the city’s central computer to respond?”

“No,” Derec admitted glumly. “Either I’m not doing something right or the chemfets only give me access to the original Robot City’s computer. Before, all I had to do was think a message and it went through. This Central won’t talk to me or the original Robot City’s computer. It’s just beaming out the distress call at regular intervals.”

“Then it must be expecting someone to answer; otherwise, why signal at all?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. I’m just as puzzled as you are.”

Derec watched the long curve of the world flatten as they approached. It was a pretty world, he decided. He might have chosen it himself. It seemed a calm and gentle place, much like Aurora, though he could see the spiraling arms of a storm just touching the eastern shores of the continent below, and he knew that underneath the pastel blue-white would be dark, streaking clouds and raging winds.

Untamed, this world was. Which was very unlike Aurora.

And very much like Ariel.

The thought crossed his mind, unbidden. She’d not sent any messages to him after she’d stormed out of the house; in fact, she’d disappeared entirely. He’d made calls to a few places trying to find her before they’d left, but to no avail. She seemed to have dropped from sight. It had been very hard to leave without saying goodbye. And because he knew that was exactly the effect she’d been after, he’d gone.

He’d begun to wonder if she’d be there when he came back. There was a sullen ache in him at the image of an empty house. It was going to hurt. It was going to hurt more than he wanted to think about.

To take his mind off Ariel, he reached in front of Mandelbrot and toggled a switch to bring the world into closer focus. Unbroken treetops swayed in a light wind.

“I don’t see any evidence of a city,” he said. “If we weren’t looking specifically for it because of the signal, I’d swear this place was barren of any technology. It has to be there, though. If so, it sure hasn’t spread out as much as the original. Have you seen any evidence of other life, Mandelbrot?”

“No, Derec. The nightside umbra shows no obvious large habitations, which would be lighted, I would think — though we haven’t seen this continent at night yet. The atmospheric sampling does indicate a small amount of industrial waste, which is very likely the result of your city. You remember the effect the other one had on its environment.”

Derec did. The massive, out-of-control building spree of the first Robot City had resulted in immense ecological side effects. The horrendous deluges that daily inundated the city had nearly killed both him and Ariel until he’ d reprogrammed the central computer. “Yes, I remember,” he said. “I hope this one keeps a better handle on things. Take us down. Let’s see what’s going on.”

“Derec, I advise against landing in the city itself. Assuming we can even find it.”

“Why not, Mandelbrot?”

The robot’s eyes gleamed as it turned to him. “We do not know what kind of attack this city is facing,” he said. “I have checked for other ships in orbit and found nothing, but I am still concerned that a city under attack will have defenses against ships. You cannot communicate with the central computer. Given that, I would be afraid that it might deem an unidentified ship an enemy and take measures to protect itself.”

Derec grimaced.

“If you order me to do so,” Mandelbrot continued, “I will trust your better judgment and follow your orders.”

Derec shook his head. “Uh-uh. And you’ll say ‘I told you so’ afterward.”

“No.” The flat delivery almost sounded hurt.

“Okay,” Derec said, grinning. “I think you’re right. Let’s land elsewhere. How much of a hike were you planning on giving us?”

“I have estimated that fifty kilometers is the minimum.”

“Fine. A few days’ stroll through the forest —”

At that moment, the craft shook like a mad thing. As the hull shuddered, Derec felt Mandelbrot’s firm grip on his arm, guiding him to his seat and forcing him down. The crash webbing slid over him as the craft tumbled; Mandelbrot staggered back to his seat and fought the controls.

“What happened?” Derec shouted.

“I do not know. Our orbit is decaying rapidly....” The robot had no time to say more as the ship’s view of the world below spun and whirled. Mandelbrot’s robotic reflexes were far faster than Derec’s, but the power to their main engines was simply gone.

Using the attitude jets, Mandelbrot managed to reduce the wild tumbling momentarily, but then the first tendrils of the atmosphere touched them and the hull struts moaned in agony. The ship began to do gymnastics again, and this time-snared in the planet’s gravity well — they were flung violently with it.

Derec’s head slammed up against his seat despite the webbing, making him shout in pain. Mandelbrot had cut all the automatics, giving him full control of the ship, but it was of little help. In the viewscreen, they saw the hull turning cherry red; the heat was suffocating in the cabin, the ventilation system gone.

White cloudtops seemed to race toward them, then they plunged into the columns of gray murk. Storm winds tossed them; rain sheeted across the screen.

“Mandelbrot!” Derec’s scream shivered with the vibrations of the ship.

There was no answer.

They plunged out of the bottom of the storm, the murky landscape below wheeling like a mad carousel. The ground, a fist waiting to crumple them like paper, rushed at them. Then, like the gut-wrenching end of a roller-coaster’s freefall, Derec was shoved down in his seat as the craft pulled up in a quick loop.

For a moment, Derec thought Mandelbrot had saved them.

It was still too late.

The trailing bulk of the engines caught the lip of a rocky outcropping. The granite blade of the hill ripped into the supports. Metal and stone screeched; Derec heard the concussion as the engine exploded. Snared, the ship itself was hammered to the ground. The inferno of the engine was sheared completely off and went spiraling away.

At least I won’t burn to death.

As a last thought, it seemed a strange comfort.

Chapter 11

STRATEGY AND TACTICS

SILVERSIDE BROUGHT THE pack to a ragged halt at a ridge looking down into the shallow bowl of a valley perhaps a kilometer across at its widest point. She sat in the shadows of the last few trees; LifeCrier and KeenEye came forward and sat on their haunches to either side of the new leader. SmallFace was high in the sky; LargeFace had yet to rise. The stars — the VoidEyes, as LifeCrier called them — stared down at the city and marveled.

SilverSide felt some of that awe herself. The Hill of Stars, set like a glistening diamond in the center of the valley and rising well above the level of the surrounding hills, was a fantastic pattern of glowing lights. The slender pyramidal structure mocked the glory of the night sky.

Nor was the Hill of Stars all. Other buildings spread out around it in geometric splendor, a procession of hard, crystalline shapes filling the valley and spilling out its open end, all linked by ribbons of walkways.

And everywhere, everywhere. there were WalkingStones: all different sizes, all different builds, all different colors. They bustled along the walkways, gazed from the windows of the buildings, slid busily between the flanks of the city. There were thousands of them.

They moved in an eerie, almost mystical silence — at least to the kin. But SilverSide could hear the deafening roar of the city’s voices inside her head. An eternal chatter of orders and instructions came from the central computer; reports were constantly being funneled back to that source. And she understood the words, for they spoke as the Hunter spoke, in that language SilverSide guessed must be that of the Void where the gods lived. It was more proof that the OldMother was being opposed.

“They began with just the Hill of Stars,” KeenEye whispered to SilverSide. She panted at the remembrance, and her long, furless tail lashed from side to side. “They’ve worked like the krajal since then.”

SilverSide had seen the industrious insects called the krajal toiling ceaselessly through the undergrowth of the forest, building their mud colonies on the sides of trees. KeenEye pointed a long finger at the periphery of the city, her lips drawn back from canines in a snarl.

“See how they tear down the trees and destroy the land?” she rasped. “All this valley was forest before the WalkingStones came. They destroy everything to put up their stone caves. And the light — it’s as if the sun were resting down there for the night. The WalkingStones don’t care about kin or any of the living creatures. They don’t care that our prey animals have fled. They don’t care that their stone caves stretch out and out and out. Long before they reach PackHome, we will have left. We will have starved, or we will have been killed.”

“Do these other WalkingStones hurt the kin like the one we killed?” SilverSide asked. “There must be different species of WalkingStones down there.”

“We don’t know,” KeenEye answered. “The others have never bothered us. They stay within the stones. Only the Hunters ever come outside.”

“That also makes them like the krajal,” LifeCrier added. “Only the blue krajali get food, only the yellow-speckled krajali build the tree-homes; only the red krajali defend the homes against the LongTongues. They each have a separate task to do, and they each are shaped a little differently. Maybe it’s the same with these WalkingStones.”

SilverSide’s optics focused more closely on the hive of activity. What LifeCrier had said sounded like an accurate enough metaphor. The view of the city bore that out. Certainly the WalkingStones seemed specialized in appearance. And though the WalkingStones were obviously constructed things, their hard, unyielding bodies were like the chitinous shells of insects.

Maybe the enemy of the OldMother had fashioned the WalkingStones after insects. They had the same outward silence, and their chattering inside her head to the unseen Central seemed like the clickings of insects. Like the insect, they labored with seemingly untiring energy; like the krajal they built their own colony home rather than take refuge in what nature afforded. And this Central, perhaps that was the queen, directing all activities of the hive.

The intricacy and sophistication of the city echoed in SilverSide. It awoke memories of her initial urges: find sentient life. Find humans. She’d made the decision on what was human, but the intelligence behind the WalkingStones...

... but that was the province of the gods, or so LifeCrier’s tales had indicated. A god had sent the WalkingStones as a god had sent SilverSide herself. It felt right to admire the genius that had created the WalkingStones, a resonance of the Third Law commands that had shaped her first hours. But admiration didn’t mean that the WalkingStones weren’t enemies. SilverSide had made her choice; the OldMother had sent her to the kin.

But still... The kin were human, yes, but SilverSide yearned for something more.

“Sometimes the krajal infest a place, too,” LifeCrier was saying. “The queen breeds and breeds until the trees drip with the shiny bodies. They drop on the prey animals and bite, driving them mad until they flee. They can kill a youngling — a slow and horrible death.”

LifeCrier closed his eyes, as if remembering. “The last time that happened, two LifeCriers ago, HalfTongue was the leader. During a storm, lightning struck a tree. HalfTongue noticed that the flames killed the krajal and that they fled. She took a branch from the tree and set a blue krajali on fire. The nearby reds came to defend it, leaving an opening. So HalfTongue and the others took several burning brands and began using them to drive the krajal away until they could reach the queen and kill it. Once the queen was dead, the krajal behaved like crazy things and were easy to kill.”

“WalkingStones won’t burn. You can’t burn a rock.” KeenEye’s comment was laced with her old scorn. If she was resigned to a secondary place in the pack behind SilverSide, she was also not going to submit to any of the other kin. “The WalkingStones would laugh at a burning stick.”

SilverSide nodded in agreement, scenting KeenEye’s irritation with LifeCrier’s tales. “Still, there is a hint in LifeCrier’s story. I must find out more about these WalkingStones. KeenEye, you will lead the pack in my absence. I will go down into the city. I need to discover if these other types of WalkingStones are more vulnerable than the Hunters. If what I suspect is true, then the Hunters will come after I attack. You must watch — see what they do, see how many they send and how quickly. Then go back to PackHome quickly. I will return by another route after I have made certain that no Hunters follow me.”

“If you’re not killed right away,” KeenEye said. Her pale eyes were noncommital and SilverSide could not tell if the prospect pleased or disturbed her. “If you’re right about these other WalkingStones.”

“If anything happens to me, you become leader again,” SilverSide answered. Yes, she scented satisfaction in KeenEye with that, and she continued. “But it won’t. I don’t intend to fight the Hunters. I only need to see how they react so we can plan. You can’t hear them, but I can. The WalkingStones speak; they communicate as do the kin. I can use their language against them. I might be able to deceive them.”

“GrayMane knew the language of the OldMother,” LifeCrier said. “You see, KeenEye, it is as I said.”

KeenEye grimaced, but she said nothing.

“Watch me for the time it would take to skin a deer,” SilverSide told the group. “Remember what you see, every detail. It is very important. Then leave. Go directly back to PackHome.” SilverSide used HuntTongue to accentuate the command.

KeenEye grimaced again, but she nodded. “As you wish.”

SilverSide gave a soft bark of satisfaction. She looked at the pack, who watched the trio expectantly. The sight of the kin nudged a First Law circuit. “Keep them safe, KeenEye,” SilverSide said. “Take them back as swiftly as they can go — the Hunters may come after you if I can’t lead them away.”

“I will do as SilverSide wishes,” KeenEye answered in proud HuntTongue. “She does not have to worry.”

There was nothing more to say. SilverSide glanced around the edge of the forest, making sure that no Hunters were lurking nearby. Swiftly, she dropped onto four legs and moved out into the wash of moonlight. She was a swift, glinting presence sliding into the shadows of the nearest buildings. SilverSide moved in among them several strides, then hunched down, belly to cool stone behind one of the structures.

She listened. The WalkingStones chattered to Central endlessly. Reports went in, orders went out. The WalkingStones were concentrated more toward the Hill of Stars where SilverSide suspected Central hid, but they occasionally moved through this area. She waited, patient.

When she heard the sound of a WalkingStone’s tread, she allowed her body to deform slightly, extending an eyestalk around the comer of the building. The approaching WalkingStone was a spindly, gangly thing with arms tipped by mechanical claws rather than fingered hands. It was alone. SilverSide retracted the eyestalk, gathered herself; when the WalkingStone passed the side of the building, she leaped with a BeastTalk growl.

The WalkingStone’s arms came up too late — SilverSide hit it, her jaws clamping around the thin, long neck and her powerful muscles shaking the thing from side to side. She was careful to hold her own great strength back and use no more power than any of the kin possessed.

That strength was enough, as she had suspected. These WalkingStones were far less durable than the Hunters. A support cracked; internal wiring harnesses tore. Just before the main trunk to the brain was severed and the WalkingStone went still under SilverSide’s great bulk, she heard it call out to the distant Central.

Under attack. Damaged...

SilverSide let the thing slump to the ground. Yes, as I thought. The Hunters were designed to be the city’s protection; the workers were strong but not overwhelming for a creature as powerful as the wolf-creatures. The worker WalkingStones, at least, were vulnerable.

And this also revealed another weakness. Not much of one, but it was all SilverSide had.

The voices in her head had gone silent. Replacing the chatter was an amplified voice, loud and commanding, resonating on all the frequencies. Central. My enemy.

And it did what she would have done herself. Central was sending the Hunters to investigate.

SilverSide didn’t intend to be there when the Hunters arrived.

Giving a BeastTalk growl of triumph, she ran back toward the forest, staying where the kin could see her but not heading directly toward them. KeenEye would watch and make certain, then run to PackHome as ordered. SilverSide would make her way there herself, but first she had to make sure there was no latent danger to the kin.

It didn’t matter if such a delay endangered her own self.

She waited until she caught a glimpse of the first Hunter moving swiftly along a walkway toward the area where the attack had occurred. I am here. she called to it in her own head voice, using the VoidTalk. The Hunter stopped, its armored head swiveling around.

SilverSide gave voice to a BeastTalk challenge and ran.

She was just about to duck under the cover of the trees when the laser hit her.

Chapter 12

A JOURNEY BEGINS

IF THIS WAS the afterlife, it was damned uncomfortable.

For one thing, it was wet. He could feel water dripping on his face and body.

For another, being dead hurt.

Derec’s ribs ached as if they’d been kicked repeatedly by an extraordinarily strong and stubborn mule. Most of his skin felt as if it had been scoured by a rough, rusty file, and what hadn’t been scraped raw was parboiled. His head pounded with the great-granddaddy of all headaches, and he was afraid to open his eyes or try to sit up.

If this was eternity, it wasn’t making a nice start.

But he couldn’t lie there forever. Besides, there was a certain curiosity....

There was definitely light beyond his eyelids. And beyond the dripping of water, he could hear a rushing, crackling noise like cellophane being crumpled.

Derec opened his eyes.

And, groaning, closed them again.

He was looking through a jagged hole in the ship’s hull into a dull gray, rain-streaming sky. Through the curtain of rain, he could see a muddy hillside scored by some giant, maniac plow and sown with bright pieces of metal. Despite the storm, there was a fire smoldering in the grass a hundred meters away where one of the ship’s drive engines lay half buried. A thick, greasy plume of black smoke was smeared across the sky under the racing clouds.

It didn’t look good. Being alive was threatening to be more uncomfortable than being dead. “Mandelbrot?” Derec’s voice was a hoarse croak. There was no answer.

“Mandelbrot?”

Still nothing. It looked as if he was going to have to get out by himself. He didn’t like the idea, not one bit. Derec moved to unbuckle his crash webbing. It was a mistake.

He screamed and promptly blacked out again.

It had stopped raining and the grass fire was out when he came back to consciousness again.

“Reality, part two,” he muttered to himself. There was still a throbbing ache in his left arm; his right seemed to be functioning, if badly bruised. He forced himself to look — yes, the left forearm was definitely fractured, the skin puffy and discolored, the arm canted at a slight and very wrong angle. The sight made him nauseous. Great. All you need is to be sick all over yourself. What if you’ve got broken ribs or internal injuries....

Derec leaned his head back and took several deep breaths until his stomach settled again. Reaching over with his good hand, he tightened the left harness of the webbing until his shoulder was tight against the seat. Then he grasped his left arm at the wrist, took a deep breath, and held it.

And let it out again with a shout. He pulled, hard.

Bone grated against bone.

When Derec came to consciousness for the third time, he checked the arm. It was bruising nicely, but it looked straight now. He could wiggle his fingers, make a weak fist. The pain made him want to whimper, but there was nothing he could do about it for the moment.

“Okay,” he breathed. “You got to get out, find the first aid kit, get the painkillers and the quick-knit pills,” he told himself. “You can do it.” Using his right hand, he unbuckled himself — squirming for the right-hand buckle at his shoulder, the pain stabbed at his chest: broken ribs, too, if nothing worse. He was starting to sweat, coldly, and the periphery of his vision was getting dark.

Shock. Take it easy. Just breathe for a few seconds.

Gingerly, Derec tried his legs. His left ankle had been wrenched badly, but he thought he might be able to put weight on it, and his right thigh was bloody under the torn pants, but everything worked.

Fine. Let’s see if we can stand.

He pushed himself up with his one good arm, cradling the other. The movement coupled with the throbbing head made the ship swirl about him. For a moment, the world threatened to go away again. Derec fought to remain conscious. No, he pleaded. The last thing you want to do is fall. You might not make it up again.

After a minute, the landscape stopped its ponderous waltz around him, and he could stand. The cabin was a total loss. The flooring was buckled, gaping holes had been torn in the bulkheads, and everything was sitting at a slight downhill angle. Derec noticed Mandelbrot immediately. The pilot’s seat had been sheared off during impact and lay on its side at the “bottom” of the cabin slope. Mandelbrot was still in the seat, his body dented, dinged, and scratched.

“Mandelbrot?” Derec called again, but there was still no answer. First things first, he told himself. Where’s that kit?

It should have been on the near wall; it wasn’t. After a stumbling search through the nearby rubble, Derec finally located the white-and-red box. He fumbled open the catch and tore open a vial of EndPain. He stabbed the injector into his thigh with a hiss of the air jet; the medication felt cool, and he could feel it spreading. The pain began to fade, the headache to ease. After a few minutes, he was feeling vaguely human again.

He found the quick-knit tabs, read the instructions, and swallowed two. With the pain temporarily subdued, he rigged a splint from a piece of plastic and the cloth covering of one of the seats. The arm felt better secured and placed in a sling. He knotted it with his teeth.

Derec was beginning to feel alive once more. Alive enough to know that he was still in deep trouble on a world he didn’t know and maybe half a continent or more away from the Robot City and help. He could still hear the central computer via his chemfet link, but the damned thing still didn’t respond to him as had the original — it would have been easy to order a squad of robots to find and rescue them.

And if pigs had wings...

Derec had to have Mandelbrot. Without the robot, this was going to be very, very touchy. The quick-knit tabs would heal his arm in a week or two — if he didn’t refracture it rummaging through the wreckage; if there were no internal injuries that crippled him first; if there was nothing on this planet that decided he looked tasty...

If he was still alive in a week.

Derec made his slow way over the broken hull to the robot. The seat had pinned Mandelbrot to the wall. Derec braced his back against the cabin wall opposite the robot, planted his feet on the seat supports, and shoved: the seat groaned, moved, and dropped back again. Derec gritted his teeth, pushed once more. This time the seat tumbled over, Mandelbrot dangling loosely from the straps. Derec waited until his breath returned and then opened up the robot’s chest cavity.

There were too many things that could have gone wrong with the robot that couldn’t possibly be fixed here. Derec could imagine every last one of them in his mind.

It didn’t look as bad as it might have. The trunk line from the main power source had pulled loose, though backup power to the brain was still intact: good, that meant there would be no memory loss. There was some structural damage, though Mandelbrot’s Avery-type arm looked perfectly fine. The optical circuits had taken quite a jarring; Derec wouldn’t be surprised if there were some problems there when he powered up the robot.

And it was going to be no fun working with one hand. “Only one way to find out...” he muttered, then shook his head. Who in space are you talking to?

It took an hour to find the toolbox; another to one-handedly splice the bad power cable and jury-rig the socket — he had to stop halfway through to hit the painkillers again; the headache was back and his ribs made every breath an agony. The soldering tip trembled in his hand as he made the last connections. He wiped sweat from his eyes and straightened. He closed the chest compartment and touched the power contact.

A status light blinked amber. One eye gleamed fitfully; the entire body shuddered. The head swiveled with a distressing squeal of grinding metal, and Mandelbrot looked in Derec’s general direction.

“Master Derec?”

“Mandelbrot.”

“You are very fuzzy in my optical circuits. It would appear that the landing was not all we had hoped for.”

“It would appear so.” Derec shrugged. “How are you?”

“Checking...” Mandelbrot’s voice trailed off; the eye dimmed. After several seconds it brightened once more. “Systems check program running. Main positronic circuitry intact; two sectors damaged but recovered and backed up. Right optical circuits not functioning; left out of adjustment. Neck sleeve joint misaligned. Main trunk connections damaged but acceptable. Main and auxiliary power circuits acceptable. Three servo motors have cracked casings and will be a problem if the lubricant seals are breached and leaking. Knee servo in left leg burned out and knee locked.” The robot’s fingers clenched and opened. “Other minor damage. Would you prefer the full details?”

“Save it for later.”

“Then I must ask how you are, Master Derec.” Mandelbrot rose to his feet, the left leg extended stiffly. “I note that your arm is splinted and there is blood on your clothing. You grimace when you move, as if your chest hurts you.”

“The arm’s broken; it’ll heal. I’m banged up but alive. I don’t think it’s anything serious. Considering the way we hit, we don’t have anything to complain about.”

“I was not complaining, Master Derec, simply trying to ascertain our status. Your health is of prime importance to me as you know. The First Law...”

Derec waved him silent. “We’ve done all we can do about that. Now we have to get ourselves out of here.”

Gears whined drily as Mandelbrot surveyed the wreckage. “This was not a good landing,” he said without inflection.

Derec laughed aloud despite the pain. After Robot City, he didn’t know what to expect from robots: Mandelbrot had either acquired a certain irony and deadpan humor or come up with a good approximation of it. A First Law response to make him feel more comfortable or not, it worked. Derec grinned.

“Actually, it was probably your best.” he said. “I’m surprised you got us down at all. What in the world happened?”

“I still am not sure, Master Derec. There was an alarm and then the impact. After that, I was too concerned with the ship to pursue the matter.”

“I can believe it,” Derec smiled. “Now let’s see what we can salvage out of this mess.”

It was a long, slow, and painful process. Most of the emergency food stores had been smashed or lost. Mandelbrot dredged up an inflatable survival tent and heater, rope, and a battery-powered lamp. On the down side, the communications gear was hopelessly ruined, as Derec found after an hour of trying to fit together pieces with the few spare parts on board.

The ship was a total loss. It would never see space again.

The salvaging efforts made a pitifully small pile outside the hull. At Derec’s insistence, Mandelbrot split the burden in half; a pack for each of them. “You’re hobbled, too,” Derec pointed out in the face of Mandelbrot’s insistence that the robot carry everything. “You’d be endangering me more by loading yourself up. I’ve got a bad arm; you’ve a bum leg and servos threatening to go at any time. You’re half blind. Consider this a direct order and pick up your half.”

Mandelbrot obeyed. “Good,” Derec said. “Now — just where in the world are we going?”

“The Robot City was inland, Master Derec. I believe we are near the eastern coast. Since the sun is declining toward the hills, I would suggest that direction.”

Derec gazed at the slopes to the west, green with a thick cover of trees. There’d be game under there, and plants to eat if the rations gave out. He sighed. There was little choice. They wouldn’t make it off this planet until they had help, and the only help was Robot City. If the central computer wouldn’t respond to his chemfet link, the robots would still give them any aid they requested, if only because the First Law required it.

We must look a sight. Derec thought as they walked away from the wreckage. A lame robot and a beat-up man. At least the planet looks safe.

Chapter 13

A CHASE THROUGH THE FOREST

THE LASER FROM the Hunter seared SilverSide’s flank. She hadn’t expected it to react so quickly.

With robotic speed, she leapt to one side and behind the cover of a thick tree trunk. The bark smoldered where her side pressed against it, and SilverSide modified her body to spread out thin fan-like structures to radiate away the excess heat. A spot of red gleamed on the tree by her head and SilverSide ducked once more — another Hunter, and this one coming from a different direction. She could see two more of the deadly WalkingStones hurrying along the walkways toward the edge of the city and the confrontation.

SilverSide howled and fled deeper into the woods. Along the ridge, she saw the rest of the pack, following her orders, turn back and flee toward PackHome. Now it was up to her — she had to get rid of the WalkingStones.

Ten minutes later, she was certain she’d lost them.

SilverSide had a decided advantage over the WalkingStones in the forest. Her wolf shape was ideally suited for quick movement and lithe, accurate turns. Low to the ground, she could take advantage of brush and thickets for cover; knowing the forest as only a wolf-creature could, she was at ease finding the convoluted paths of the game animals. The WalkingStones seemed far less capable once they left the arrow-straight walkways and geometric patterns of their city.

SilverSide came to a halt in a glade a kilometer and a half from the valley of the WalkingStones. She halted, listening, scenting, and watching. Large moths flitted silently from tree to tree. A creature with huge suckers for feet hung upside down from a nearby branch. LargeFace spread silver lace patterns on the ground through the branches.

A branch cracked; a silver shape moved in the dark.

Central, the creature is here. The voice came from inside her head. Ten degrees south, unit three. You should have a clear line of fire if you move forward.

The darkness seemed to bother the WalkingStones as little as it did SilverSide, and it seemed that she had underestimated them. They were persistent and excellent trackers or they could not have followed her. They might be slower when moving in the trees, yes, but they seemed to be untiring.

And they had found her again.

Her logic circuits couldn’t know disappointment or irritation or even fear, but the sight of the Hunters through the trees made her pause, made her growl softly in BeastTalk. They were not kin. These WalkingStones lacked all etiquette.

If they were human, she thought, it would be easy. I could challenge their leader, and whomever won would lead all. That is the best way.

But the WalkingStone’s leader was Central, which was only a voice in her head, and the WalkingStones attacked kin like the SharpFangs, from hiding and without a proper challenge.

Like beasts. Like animals.

The Hunters were speaking with one another now, short bursts of high-pitched sound. SilverSide fingered the strands of semiconductors and colored wire around her neck. They were just made-things. Tools. They were less than animals, for all their sophistication. Yes, the technology made SilverSide ache to know more, but they violated all her most primal urges.

She wanted desperately to break these tools.

A crisscrossing of sudden laser fire raked the underbrush. SilverSide pushed to her feet with a howl and ran again. She felt the awful heat of their weapons strike her, and she turned and twisted as she fled so that none of the beams could touch her for more than a few seconds. Even so, she could sense internal damage: automatic alarm circuits overloaded and caused emergency sub-routines to be run, rerouting her nerve signals along undamaged paths to the brain.

Again her wolf shape aided her as it had before; she outdistanced the Hunters quickly. But she could still hear them, could still smell that sharp tang of steel and lubricants. They would track her forever, she realized, and if they did that, they would find PackHome.

You cannot allow that to happen. The First Law was plain here.

A new positronic pathway opened, glimmering. Another robot might have kept running until it ran out of power or was caught. Another robot might have been trapped by inbuilt programming.

The Hunters were tracking a wolf, and though she had chosen that shape, it was not the only one she could be.

SilverSide’s body began to alter. The great bulk of the wolf collapsed in on itself, the body becoming much smaller. The excess mass SilverSide squeezed outward, thinning it until the alloy was as thin as she could make it.

Great, powerful wings overshadowed her now. The wings beat, cupping air.

SilverSide flew.

She was a lousy bird. She was too massive, and there was nothing she could do to alter that. She didn’t fly well, and she couldn’t fly fast or high, but she flew.

Her moonshadow passed over the Hunters moving through the woods below.

The WalkingStones didn’t even look up. A wolf that changed into a bird was not in their experience.

“You’re certain you left them behind?”

The sun was just peeking over the edge of the hills, and most of the kin had come out to greet SilverSide as, in wolf form again, she loped from the forest. KeenEye prowled the packed ground outside the entrance to PackHome. She kept looking back into the fog drifting through the shafts of light under the trees.

“I am mostly certain,” SilverSide replied. One of the pups came up to her and playfully nipped her back leg. She gently nudged the pup aside, and it ran back to its mother, yelping. “I was heading south away from the Hill of Stars, not toward here at all.”

“They will follow your tracks and your scent.” KeenEye would not let go of the argument, but at least it was in respectful KinSpeech and not HuntTongue, where SilverSide might have been compelled to challenge her.

“I became a bird. I left no tracks, and the wind took my scent.”

“You became a bird....” KeenEye’s stance stiffened; she crouched slightly, offensively. That said more than her words.

“You doubt SilverSide, KeenEye?” LifeCrier asked mockingly. “You saw the Egg. You’ve seen her kill a Hunter, which none of us could do. You saw her kill another of the WalkingStones and escape the Hunters’ lightnings. We all know she’s from the OldMother, and yet you scoff. 1 believe her, KeenEye, because I have listened to the tales of the OldMother. I have faith. What of the rest of you?”

The kin gave barks of agreement, and SilverSide could scent their pride in her. KeenEye’s lips lifted, exposing teeth.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said disdainfully. “Bird or not, we’ve still done nothing about the WalkingStones. All we’ve accomplished is to anger them, and if they come here, to PackHome, we will all die. SilverSide might be able to kill one, but what of the rest of us?”

KeenEye’s tail thrashed dirt. She fingered the necklace SilverSide had given her. “How many here have seen the bodies of kin slain by the Hunters?” she continued. “How many of you have pups who are thin because the meat is scarce? How many mothers have little milk to give the litters? We can’t stand against the WalkingStones. And that is true with or without SilverSide, with or without the OldMother.”

“Then we can go elsewhere,” SilverSide suggested. “Give the WalkingStones this place and find another.”

“Where? We’ve already discussed that. The other packs already watch their borders, knowing the trouble we’re having. No other pack will let us into their territory.”

“Then you are telling me that we must stay here,” SilverSide said. “This is something I need to know — KeenEye, LifeCrier, all the rest of you. I do not know this world as you do. The OldMother left you the task of teaching me about the kin. Must we stay here?”

They nodded, howling softly. “In that, I’m afraid I must agree with KeenEye,” LifeCrier said. “Our pack is already weak and small. In a fight with other pack-kin, we would all die.”

That answer gave the logic circuits in SilverSide’s brain the information they needed. Electrical synapses closed. It was simple.

The First Law demanded that human life must be protected. Her positronic brain, like every robot’s, logically resolved inevitable conflicts to protect the many over the few. If the kin stayed here, the conflict would be human against WalkingStone. If they moved, another, uglier conflict must be confronted, and that would pit human against human. SilverSide could not kill humans.

That realization allowed her to make an unpleasant decision. “Then we will stay here,” she said, “and my choice is made for me.”

“What choice?” KeenEye demanded.

“The choice to fight the WalkingStones.”

“We can’t fight them,” KeenEye insisted.

“I know a way,” SilverSide said. “I do not like it, but I know a way.”

“Then speak. Tell us,” KeenEye said, and the insolence was back in her voice, in her stance, in her smell. SilverSide stared at KeenEye, daring the former leader to challenge her again. SilverSide let her body enlarge slightly, her already massive chest puffing out. KeenEye growled and backed away.

“Kin will probably die, my way,” SilverSide said, still looking at KeenEye. “But you tell me there is no other choice that is not worse. If you tell me wrong, you may well destroy the pack. If there is any way for us to go elsewhere, tell me now.”

“There is no way,” KeenEye said, snorting. She pawed at the ground with a clawed hand. “There are other packs all around us: One Eye’s, ScarredPaw’s. They’ve already said they will kill any of our litter-kin who trespass. Ask LifeCrier — he can tell you of the battles between packs. I didn’t lie. And I’m not afraid to fight. Kin die all the time — it is part of the Hunt, it is part of defending territory.”

“Then it is time to hunt WalkingStones,” SilverSide answered.

“It is time to challenge them.”

Chapter 14

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE

IT WAS DIFFICULT to hear anything above the racket Derec and Mandelbrot made moving through the woods. Derec quickly realized that there was no hope he’d be able to survive by hunting for food. He’d starve first.

They’d seen very little wildlife except during their rest periods. Otherwise, whatever animals lived here simply fled from the clamor of their passage. Shapes skittered through the trees ahead of them, birds took to the air with shrill cries. But a new sound intruded, making Derec cock his head quizzically.

“Did you hear that, Mandelbrot?”

Derec had stopped, leaning on the walking stick he’d cut from a dead branch and breathing heavily. They were struggling up a slope tangled with dense, close underbrush and tenacious, sticky-leaved vines; the place seemed to have been designed to give them trouble. The sun was already behind the hill and dropping rapidly, and Derec’s legs itched wherever the plants had scraped skin through his clothing. Mandelbrot, ahead of him and sounding in dire need of an overhaul, was moving very slowly with his malfunctioning leg. The robot stopped and turned his head around, the neck grating metallically.

“I have heard several things, Master Derec. Which sound were you referring to?”

“The howling. There — you hear that?”

Very faintly, a mournful wail greeted the dusk. Another voice joined the first, then several others. The mournful chorus continued for several seconds, then went back to the solo voice once more. The forest seemed suddenly very dim and dangerous. Derec shivered involuntarily.

“That sends cold chills down my back,” he said.

“There are thermal blankets in the pack,” Mandelbrot told Derec. “Let me get one for you —”

Derec smiled. “It’s not that kind of chill. It sounds like recordings I’ve heard of wolves — made before they became extinct.”

The barking howls began again, echoing and reverberating among the slopes. Mandelbrot’s neck joint screeched again as the robot looked up slope. “Their voices are complex,” he said. “In some ways it reminds me of Wolruf’s language.”

Mention of the caninoid alien’s name made Derec nod; he missed Wolruf, missed her quick wit and odd temper. “I wish it were, believe me. At least then we might get out of this mess. We have to find a place to camp for the night, Mandelbrot. Any level and halfway open space will do. I don’t want to get caught out here in the open during the dark.”

“My data banks say that even in the days before Earth was settled, most wild animals were afraid of humans. They very rarely attacked anyone without provocation.”

“Well, I’m not going to count on them having been fed the same data. Let’s keep going, Mandelbrot. Maybe at the top of this hill... though from the size of it I’m beginning to think we should promote it to mountain.”

It took them another hour to struggle to the summit. There, the trees thinned out and finally disappeared on a wind-swept, rocky ledge that, looming above the surrounding hills, gave them an excellent vantage point.

Every last muscle in Derec’s body ached from the exertion of the climb. His broken arm throbbed and burned; he was breathing in quick gasps, afraid to breathe any deeper because of his ribs. Derec swung his pack down with a grimace and found the medical supplies. An EndPain injection allowed him to keep moving. Mandelbrot, every joint rasping, helped Derec inflate the tent and arrange their pitifully few supplies. Derec started a small fire in a circle of rocks, and they sat on the hilltop watching the stars appear in the dark blue of the zenith, sprinkled across the sky in their millions.

“They certainly are persistent, those wolves or whatever they are.” The howls had continued to serenade them as they’d made camp. They seemed to be coming from the west, in the same general direction they were heading though several hills over. Derec sat on the edge of the ledge and tossed pebbles into the trees below, listening to them crash through the branches. He looked at the shadowy landscape ahead of them and grimaced. “Look at that. You’d figure the hills would all have to run north and south — we’re going to walk five kilometers up and down for every one due west.”

Derec glanced over at the robot standing alongside him. It didn’t seem to have heard. “Mandelbrot?”

“I am sorry, Master Derec. I was listening to them.”

“Just make sure they don’t get closer.” Derec threw another stone, then squinted toward the west. “How well are you seeing, Mandelbrot?”

“My night vision is very poor due to the crash damage. It is no better than yours.”

“Uh-huh. Take a look anyway and tell me if that isn’t a glow in the northwest, maybe four or five of those hills over. I didn’t notice it before, but with the darkness —”

Mandelbrot peered in the direction Derec was pointing. “I see a patch of light reflecting from underneath clouds....”

Then, for a moment, they were both silent, listening to a voice that whispered in both their heads.

All units: central computer under attack. All units...

The voice was very faint. It faded even as Derec tried to get the voice to respond.

“My fa —” Derec began, then stopped himself. He hated the man too much to call him that, and on Aurora it meant very little anyway. “Mandelbrot, it must be Avery.”

“It is possible.”

“It’s more than possible. It explains everything: the distress call, the central computer not responding to the chemfets, our crash-landing — everything. He could have used a Key, jumped to the Compass Tower here, and started disrupting the city.”

“Why?” Mandelbrot asked. “The first Robot City was his creation.”

“He was also very disturbed that I could control it. Maybe he’s decided to destroy all the others.”

“It is possible, I suppose,” Mandelbrot admitted. “But we will not know until we arrive.”

“We have to push harder, Mandelbrot. The city’s in trouble.”

“Why should that concern you so much, Master Derec?”

The question sounded like one Ariel might have asked, and the reminder hurt more than his physical pain. Derec scowled. “It just does. Maybe it’s the chemfets — some chemical bonding with the city that’s due to them. I don’t know, Mandelbrot. All I can tell you is that I hurt when the city hurts, and it makes me want to do something about it. Can you understand that?”

“I can, Master Derec. What you describe sounds very similar to the compulsion of the Three Laws within every robot. And if we must push ourselves tomorrow, I would suggest that you rest,” the robot said gently. “You are exhausted, and I cannot carry you.”

Derec wanted to argue, but Mandelbrot was right. He could feel the weariness; and the effort it took to get to his feet convinced him. “Then I’m going to try to sleep. What about you?”

“I do not know how much longer I will be able to walk. The less I move, the better. I will stand here and watch. Have a good sleep.”

His dreams were haunted by his father, who could take on the shape of a wolf. Ariel was there, but wolf-Avery chased her away, and though Derec tried to run after her, his feet were leaden and horribly slow.

Derec awoke with a start. For a moment, he was disoriented and nearly panicked until the nagging pain in his arm and ribs reminded him. He opened the tent and poked his head out through the flaps.

It was still dark. Two moons were in the sky; one high, the larger one low to the west. Backlight against the moonlight, he could see Mandelbrot, standing motionless at the edge of the overlook and staring out into the night. He could hear the wolf-creatures baying at the moon.

“Mandelbrot?”

“Everything is fine, Master Derec. I was listening to them. Their voices; it is almost like a language.”

‘Their voices make me want to avoid them at all costs. They’re probably discussing how tasty my bones and your metal would be. Good night, Mandelbrot.”

“Good night, Master Derec.”

He lay there for a long time in the darkness, not wanting to go to sleep. He didn’t know if it was because Avery would be waiting for him in his dreams, or because he was afraid Ariel would not.

Chapter 15

FEINT AND THRUST

SILVERSIDE’S CREATOR HERSELF might have been distressed by the robot’s logic. Janet Anastasi might well have been appalled and considered SilverSide’s positronic mind to be hopelessly damaged. It is impossible to say.

Surely an Auroran robot would have been crippled, if not driven into outright positronic lockup, by the implications of this decision. But to SilverSide, the Three Laws were simply the morals of the OldMother, and her logic and her interpretations were not shaped by human standards, but by those of the kin.

Inclined to respond physically and aggressively to a challenge.

It took the pack another day to prepare, a long day of using their “found” tools such as sticks and flat stones, their few flint-shaped blades and planes. No one was exempt; even the very old and the very young helped as far as they were able.

After SilverSide was satisfied with the arrangements, she sent most of the kin back to PackHome after warning them to take a circuitous, long route. She sent some of the hunting kin with them for protection, not wanting to leave PackHome entirely undefended should her plan fail. KeenEye and LifeCrier insisted on remaining behind with SilverSide, and she chose another half-dozen of the pack to stay as well.

As the sun set, they said their farewells to the rest of the kin and watched them make their way among the trees. When they were gone, SilverSide howled a long challenge to the rising moons and turned to the others.

“Now, let us go find a WalkingStone to kill,” she said.

The city had changed, even in the two days since she had last seen it. It had encroached farther on the forest, spilling from the valley that had confined it. Worker WalkingStones with roaring chainsaws for arms were tearing at the trees at the leading edge of the city; farther in toward the Hill of Stars, everything seemed to have changed. The ice-blue building to the west had been farther over and shorter the last time, and the flying buttresses linking it to the building alongside had not been there at all. The cluster of geodesic domes at the base of the Hill of Stars was certainly new, and an open space lush with greenery yawned under the bright lights of a slender needle tower. It was as if the WalkingStones were not satisfied with their expansion; they had to tear down and rebuild even in the center of their city.

The valley was awash in them. The wind stunk of metal; the VoidEyes in the sky above were lost in the glare.

Yet the WalkingStones’ ceaseless toil impressed SilverSide, even as she growled at the sight of the naked, muddy hillsides in their path.

“They rape the land, like a male taking a female before her time,” KeenEye snarled. She growled in BeastTongue: a sound of pure loathing. “There are always more of them, always more of their stone caves, always more of their lights and noise and smells.”

“They leave nothing for us,” LifeCrier agreed. “Is this the way the Void looks, SilverSide? Is this the way the gods live?”

“I do not know,” SilverSide answered. “It is possible. I feel... I feel a pull to it, LifeCrier. There is something in the smoothness, in the many tools they use, in the way they move. Perhaps it is something I once knew.”

“Then the gods can have the Void,” KeenEye said in irreverent KinSpeech. “I hate it.”

“OldMother will eat the souls of kin as we rise to the Void,” LifeCrier chastised the former leader, using HuntTongue to emphasize his point. “She takes us to the One Pack again, and we run in the Endless Forest.”

SilverSide snapped at the two of them. “Silence!” she ordered. LifeCrier immediately moved back into the pack; KeenEye stared at SilverSide for a moment, then dropped her muzzle. “Move forward now. Quietly. We don’t want to bring the Hunters too quickly.”

The pack flowed among the trees following SilverSide. She brought them to a halt near the cleared section downwind of the WalkingStones and surveyed the area.

“There,” SilverSide whispered, pointing. “They will do.”

The wall of a building rose several meters away, a building under construction. A group of three WalkingStones was hauling materials to a wheeled cart alongside the wall, their backs to the forest. The workers were isolated, most of the continuing work being done in a floodlit area half a kilometer away. Their head-voices were silent.

“Now,” SilverSide said, and leaped into the open.

As one, the pack followed her, sweeping across the ground like a gray wind and then falling on the WalkingStones with savage growls. SilverSide took one of them by the throat, shaking with all her robotic strength and feeling the hated thing die before it could sound an alarm. The others hit the remaining two WalkingStones in a rush.

Central! Under attack —

SilverSide heard the distress call cut off in mid-sentence even as she turned to help KeenEye and the others. She needn’t have been concerned. As she had suspected from her encounter with the other worker, the kin’s strength was great enough to disable this species of WalkingStone. Under the floodlights across the open field, other workers were looking at them, and SilverSide heard them alerting Central to the pack’s presence.

She grasped KeenEye’s shoulder. “The Hunters will be coming. We must go.”

“Then we’ll meet them here,” KeenEye said. Her eyes were bright with the death of the WalkingStones.

“No,” SilverSide said in emphatic HuntTongue. “KeenEye will destroy the pack if she does that. We’ve prepared for them — they will follow. I promise that. Take them; I’ll follow.”

KeenEye gave a howl of both challenge and triumph to the nearest workers and turned. The pack followed her back into the forest. SilverSide waited, standing over the downed workers. Yes, they were like the krajal. The others had turned back to their work, following the orders of Central. She heard Central call the Hunters. When she saw the first gleam of their armored skin rushing toward her, she turned and followed the path of the others back into the forest.

Behind her, she heard the crashing as the Hunters bulled their way into the undergrowth.

SilverSide snaked her way through the trees, making sure she stayed well ahead of them but left a clear path behind. Even so, the WalkingStones remained close behind her. When she finally broke through into the glade where the others waited, they were not far behind. All the kin could hear them; birds were rising in panic above the trees, and they could smell the oily stench. The kin stirred restlessly, muttering in angry BeastTalk as they milled around SilverSide.

She stood in the center of the glade, pacing. The open spot was situated in a deep valley, surrounded on all sides but one by steep slopes. “The rest of you — into the trees and make ready,” she ordered. “Do not let them see you. Remember that their lightning will kill you if it touches you. I will lure them in and then run. KeenEye, you will do the rest.”

They were barely in position when the first of the Hunters broke through the ring of trees, the others at its heels. SilverSide gave a rumbling BeastTalk challenge, then broke and ran when the Hunters raised their hands to her. Laser fire raked the trees, just missing her, and the Hunters lumbered into motion again. Follow, the voices in her head said. Do not let the creature escape this time.

This was exactly what SilverSide had hoped for. The hillsides formed a natural funnel; the WalkingStones had to move as a group. The WalkingStones moved across the glade as one.

And, as one and intent on their pursuit of SilverSide, they tumbled into the deep pit the kin had dug across the glade and hidden with dry grass.

“Now, KeenEye!” SilverSide cried.

The dirt removed from the pit had been piled next to it and blocked with fallen logs. Now KeenEye cut the lashings holding the logs. They rolled crazily over the edge, followed by a roaring landslide of dirt and stones. The kin pushed at the mounds of dirt, howling, keeping it cascading down on the Hunters as a choking cloud of dust rose. SilverSide could hear the head-voices wailing distress as the WalkingStones were covered under the weight of two meters of rocky clay.

When the dust settled at last, there was nothing to be seen of the Hunters. They were gone. Buried. Even the head-voices were silent.

The pack howled and wailed in BeastTalk. They clambered over the pit, stomping on the earth that hid the WalkingStones and packing it down. LifeCrier licked SilverSide’s cold muzzle; even KeenEye rubbed her flank in appreciation. “We’ve done it!” LifeCrier sighed. “We’ve killed Hunters. All the kin can see the gift of the OldMother now.”

The reminder served to temper KeenEye’s satisfaction. The former leader only grunted. “It might seem so. But this was only one battle, LifeCrier. Only half of SilverSide’s plan. There’s still the rest.”

SilverSide nodded in agreement and the mood of the kin darkened again. The celebration ended as they gathered around her again. “All of you must stay here to watch,” she told them when they were quiet. “Central may send workers to dig these Hunters out, or it may have other Hunters to send. KeenEye, your task is harder than mine. You must watch. If other Hunters come, flee, but remember that you cannot go back to PackHome until you have lost them. No matter what, you must keep them occupied for as long as you can. If workers come, you must stop them from unearthing these Hunters, or if you find that the Hunters can dig themselves out somehow, you must find a way to stop them or slow them down. We’ve not won. Not yet. We’ve only made the first step.”

SilverSide picked up a clod of dirt and crumpled it in her hand, letting the dust trickle back through her long, clawed fingers. “Now, I must go and find this Central.”

Chapter 16

A DEATH

“THEY HAVE BEEN following us for the last few hours, Master Derec.”

“I know. I can hear them.”

Derec didn’t like the sound of the long, quavering howls echoing among the hills. He also didn’t like the fact that the sun was just ready to set.

Their last few days had been slow and painful, but mostly uneventful. Mandelbrot’s knee had seized up entirely; the robot walked with a stiff-legged limp that made their progress halting. Derec’s arm was still sore and throbbing, but he nursed the remaining painkillers, taking them only when it became unbearable. He watched his own footing carefully, knowing that if he stumbled he couldn’t easily break his fall. Derec would have sworn that their backpacks, light enough when they’d started out, seemed to be gaining weight as the days wore on.

He wasn’t much enjoying his first days on this world. He would have given nearly anything for a hovercraft. His feet hurt, his boots rubbed his toes raw, he’d found a hundred bruises he hadn’t known he’d had, and they had no idea if they’d ever see the Robot City that still adamantly refused to talk to him.

What good are the chemfets if you can’t communicate both ways?

It was just like something Dr. Avery would do. More and more he was convinced that he would find Avery here, that Avery would somehow be behind it all.

Worst of all, he missed Ariel. He missed her terribly. He’d replayed their argument over in his head a thousand times. He’d come up with a hundred lines that would have made it better, if only he had a chance to do it over again. It would have been so easy.

Okay, Ariel. I’m sorry. Come with us. Please.

But of course there was no way to go back in time and tell her that. There was no way for him to turn back the clock and stop the argument before it began. It would always be there between them. The best he could hope for was that she’d be willing to forgive him when he returned to Aurora.

If he returned to Aurora.

All in all, Derec sorely regretted his decision to come to this place.

And now there were wolves.

They had been shadowing Derec and Mandelbrot since yesterday, always staying out of close range but always just on the edge of sight.

“I believe it is a territorial problem,” Mandelbrot said. “I think we are just on the edge of their land and they are warning us away.”

“We’re not going to harm them. We just want to get to Robot City.”

“That doesn’t seem to be something they would understand, Master Derec.”

Derec stopped and slipped the pack from his back, grimacing as the straps put weight on his broken arm. There was a compressed-air gun in the survival gear, a short-range weapon only, but the glass darts contained a deadly nerve poison. Derec felt Mandelbrot watching him as he loaded the gun and slid the holster on his belt. “They could be carnivores,” he said to the robot. “I don’t want to take any chances.”

“I have been listening to them,” Mandelbrot said. “The calls are remarkably complex.”

“And their teeth may well be remarkably sharp.”

“Understood, Master Derec. Still, I have been carefully watching and listening. They seem to be staying within these hills.” Mandelbrot pointed to the area directly ahead of them. “One of them will come directly into view and howl to us, like a challenge or warning — that is why I believe they are telling us to turn away. What if their calls are a language? Perhaps we should avoid confrontation all together.”

“How? By going a hundred kilometers around? Mandelbrot, we’re both hurt. We need help, and the only help is in Robot City. Which is — we think — that way. Wolves or no wolves. I’ve heard the wolves, too, and it doesn’t sound like any kind of language to me.”

“I understand, Master Derec. Still, the voices are very complex: the falling tones, the breaks...”

“We don’t have time for detours. We won’t live long enough for that.”

Mandelbrot nodded. Derec’s insistence forced First Law overtones and Third Law obedience: the robot went silent. They began walking again.

Long shadows covered the landscape; the disc of the sun was gone behind the hills, and the western sky was a bath of crimson. Already the first stars were up in the east, with the largest of the two moons a crescent horn high in the sky.

Derec and Mandelbrot used the remaining light to push on into the hills. The barks and yips and howls stopped ominously as they topped the first crest. When it became too dark to see the tree roots and stones in their path, they stopped. Derec unpacked the tent; Mandelbrot made a fire. “Wolves are often afraid of fire,” Mandelbrot said.

“I’ll remember to hire you as a guide next time we go on safari,” Derec said. Firelight threw moving, wavering shadows through the trees; the wood hissed and sparked, and it was hard to see anything beyond the glare of the flames. Derec thought it worse than the darkness itself. It was easy to imagine shapes in the erratic light, and none of the shapes in Derec’s mind was pleasant.

“I’ll get some food started —” Derec began to say.

And then the shapes from his nightmares streaked from the woods, growling and snarling.

They were not wolves, at least not like any wolves Derec knew. They were larger than the old pictures Derec had seen: lean, gray-furred bodies and massive chests, their heads peculiarly shaped, large-skulled but with a distinct canine muzzle. They ran from the woods on all fours but reared up on the hind legs at will, slashing with forepaws — well-articulated fingers tipped with razor claws. Their eyes were red from reflected firelight, and they roared and howled and shrieked as they attacked.

The creatures hit Mandelbrot first, which very likely saved Derec’s life. They ignored Derec, slamming into the hobbled robot. Mandelbrot could not move quickly enough to avoid them. The robot flailed back at them, the Avery arm snaking like a whip. It struck one of the wolves across the snout and there was a distinct crack of bone as the wolf-creature yelped, rolled, and fled.

Three more struck Mandelbrot at once, and the impact, combined with Mandelbrot’s bad leg, knocked the robot entirely over. He fell into the fire, clasping two of the attacking wolf-creatures. Sparks flared and snapped; the wolves howled in fear and pain as they struggled to get away from the robot’s steel grasp. Mandelbrot let them go at last and the wolves yelped and fled, their fur scorched and burning. Mandelbrot struggled to get back on his feet, sending glowing embers flying through the air.

Then everything was confused. Derec had dragged the gun from its holster. He squeezed the trigger at anything moving beyond the campfire; the gun bucked in his hand. Something big and horribly strong hit him from behind and he went down, shouting with pain and nearly losing consciousness as he landed on his bad arm. He couldn’t see anything; his head was full of exploding blotches. Somehow Derec held onto the gun and fired blindly. He couldn’t tell if he hit anything or not, but all at once the battle was over. One of the wolves gave a short, high bark; the others dropped the attack and fled into the woods.

Derec felt a metallic hand on his shoulder. “Master Derec?”

“Wolves are afraid of fire, huh?”

“I have made the correction in my data bank.”

“Good. Wonderful. Now help me up.”

The camp was a mess. Bumming logs were scattered around the area; the tent had collapsed. There was a long rip in one of the packs, and several cans of food had spilled out. “Great,” Derec sighed. “We’ll be up half the night fixing things. If our friends don’t make a return visit,” he added. “Man’s best friend, they aren’t.”

They found the body in the morning as they began their trek once more. Derec nearly stumbled over it in the underbrush. “What the —” he began, then stopped.

“Oh, no,” Derec said breathlessly. “Please, no.”

“What is it, Master Derec?” Mandelbrot said, limping over.

Derec didn’t answer. He only stared.

The wolf-creature had evidently caught one of the stray darts Derec had fired the night before. It was a young one, a female who had evidently been watching the fight from the cover of the trees. She certainly had not been involved herself.

She couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. Lashed around her body with vines was a primitive travois built of trimmed sticks, a carrier. And in one hand, uselessly, she clenched a stone knife the chipped edges of which showed the mastery of a flint knapper.

“By any god you care to name...” Derec breathed. “Mandelbrot, you were right. The wolves — they’re sentient.”

Derec looked at the body, stricken. “And I killed one.”

Chapter 17

IN THE HILL OF STARS

SHE BAYED A challenge to Central from the nearest hill, for no kin would go into battle with an equal without first warning them.

There was no answer. She hadn’t expected one.

Packing along the hills at the edge of the city, SilverSide watched for several minutes, paying careful attention to the movements of the nearest WalkingStones and listening to their voices in her head.

There were several types that seemed to roam freely through the streets. SilverSide left the heights and moved down from the trees to get a closer look at them. She ran quickly across the cleared area around the spreading city and into the shadows of the buildings. When one of the WalkingStones passed her hiding place, SilverSide quickly memorized its shape and walk; once it was gone, SilverSide willed her body to change once more, patterning herself after the WalkingStone. Her head became round and smooth; her body straightened and she stood upright, letting the markings of the kin disappear.

When it was done, she took the necklace of wires from her head and laid the token of her first victory on a ledge. She walked onto the hard stone walkways and eternal daylight of the city.

SilverSide watched and listened carefully for any sign of recognition or alarm in the first few WalkingStones she passed, but none of them paid her any attention at all. As she went deeper into the steel canyons of this place, the WalkingStones became more numerous. Soon SilverSide was moving in great crowds of them, of all manner of shapes and sizes. This was certainly not the forest, where a kin could — at need — wander for a day or more without seeing another of the kin. LifeCrier’s analogy, which had first sparked this idea in her, seemed more and more apt. These were krajal, hive-insects. They could not exist without each other. They had no individuality at all. They existed only to serve Central, and without Central they were nothing.

Their society seemed very wrong to SilverSide. Her decision now gave her no pause at all. It was right to destroy this place, despite the sophisticated technology it showed. It spoke of intelligence, yes, but of intelligence used in the wrong way. This was not logical, she decided. This was not the way of humans.

SilverSide continued on. The kin, she knew, would have been puzzled by the silence of the city: there were few noises at all beyond the hum of machinery and the sound of the WalkingStones’ passage. None of them spoke in what the kin would have considered an audible range. But SilverSide heard the racket of their thousands. She listened to the WalkingStones’ endless chatter in her head. Already she was missing the good smell of earth and foliage and the sounds of life. This was a dead place. This was a sterile and horrible place, and she was headed for the very heart of it.

The Hill of Stars. There, Central would be waiting for her. LifeCrier had said that the Hill of Stars was the first thing the WalkingStones had built. The krajal always built first a room for their queen.

The different species of WalkingStones all used different frequencies to communicate with Central — SilverSide knew that without understanding frequencies or bandwidths: each species resonated in a slightly different place in her head. Janet Anastasi had also built into her robot a primitive location device: SilverSide could listen to Central and know from which direction the transmission came.

It was easy enough to walk the streets and listen, tracking Central. None of the workers even questioned her right to be there; they ignored her, going about their own tasks.

Central was concerned about her, though. SilverSide heard a continuous stream of unanswered queries directed to the Hunters. As she approached the Hill of Stars itself, Central ordered a group of workers into the forest to seek the Hunters. SilverSide felt satisfaction at that, for it meant that Central either had no more Hunters to send or that it was not going to expend more of them until it understood what had happened. Either way, it meant that the other kin were relatively safe for the moment.

SilverSide continued on until she reached the large open plaza in which the Hill of Stars stood.

The gigantic pyramidal structure overshadowed any of the other buildings in the city, towering higher than the hills surrounding the valley. Its steep, sloping faces were pocked with windows behind which she could occasionally see one the WalkingStones moving. The scale of the structure was something she could only now begin to understand. It was immense, far larger than anything else in this place. A fitting place for the Central, for this queen WalkingStone, she decided. There were large doors cut into each of the sides. SilverSide began walking across the plaza toward the nearest of them.

She expected to be stopped and challenged. She had prepared herself to be ready to move quickly and violently, knowing that once an alarm was raised, Central would immediately take steps to protect itself, and she would have scant minutes to finish her task.

It was almost too easy. None of the WalkingStones in the plaza made any move to prevent her from entering the Hill of Stars. Like the rest, they paid no attention to her at all. She was simply another one of the workers, going silently about her task without question — why should another of them question her right to be there? She entered into a cold dimness bounded by stone and cut with wide hallways.

There were fewer of the WalkingStones here, and most of them had a different body construction: more streamlined, with hands obviously designed for delicate work. From the orders given them by Central, SilverSide knew that these were the attendants of Central, the ones allowed into its presence. SilverSide let her body change to match their shape in a brief moment when she was alone in the hall and then continued walking, waiting.

It took only a few minutes. An order came from Central to one of the attendants who had just passed SilverSide, summoning it. The WalkingStone turned to obey, and SilverSide followed, moving with the WalkingStone along the labyrinthian corridors deeper into the heart of the Hill of Stars. In time, they passed through a set of wide doorways into a vast interior chamber.

And SilverSide looked upon Central.

The huge chamber was brightly lit from hanging lamps. Four doors entered into it on the ground level; balconies rimmed the walls to the ceiling, twenty or more stories high. In all that vast space, WalkingStones moved on all sides, but the ground floor was left mostly empty but for a cluster in the exact middle. There stood a quartet of Hunters, one at each corner of an array of eight wafer-thin, two-meter-tall rectangles, arranged like the rays of a stylized sun around a central column. The column was all black and chrome, with tiny lights blinking red and amber up and down its length. The presence of the Hunters would have been enough, but SilverSide could sense the power and energy coming from the structures.

Central. The Queen. The mind behind the WalkingStones.

And with the Hunters guarding it, SilverSide knew that a frontal attack would not work. She altered her course in what she hoped looked to be a purposeful way, angling toward another of the exits from the room. One of the Hunters watched her, but she heard nothing in her head from Central. SilverSide left the room and went into the hallway beyond.

Had she been kin, she might have felt despair. Isolated as it was, with the Hunters around it, there seemed to be no way to reach Central. It would be a long run across that floor; before she could hope to reach the unit, she would be cut down by the Hunters’ laser fire. As for the balconies...

She passed a glassed-in elevator rising toward the top of the Hill of Stars, climbing the outside of Central’s chamber. The glimmer of an idea sparked in her positronic brain.

SilverSide stepped into the open door of one of the elevators as another of the WalkingStones stepped off. A row of marked buttons was set next to the door; she pressed one and the elevator rose swiftly up, stopping gently with a chime. SilverSide stepped out and found the nearest door leading into the central chamber. She stepped to the railing and looked down.

Far, far below in that dizzying space, she could see the sunray design of Central.

Any Third Law requirement that she protect her own life was lost in the First Law possibilities represented by the death of Central. The fact that she might die in the effort meant nothing weighed against the fact that it would save the lives of kin. SilverSide climbed up on the railing, her body changing back to wolf shape. Her powerful hind legs gathered.

She leapt.

Her robotic strength took her out over the well of emptiness. At the zenith of her leap, over the center of the space, she willed herself to change once more, letting the body expand and thin and flatten into a glider shape like the paraseeds she’d seen fall from the trees near PackHome. She sailed, soaring and spiraling down — a silent enemy descending.

For several seconds, she heard nothing. SilverSide began to think that this would work, that she would plummet unhindered down to Central.

But a worker pointed as she passed one of the balconies in her descent. SilverSide realized that there were certain things too out of the ordinary for even the workers to ignore.

Central! Alert!

The Hunters looked up and saw SilverSide.

One of the younglings heard them first. “KeenEye,” he hissed. “WalkingStones!”

KeenEye growled in BeastTalk. Since SilverSide had left, she had been prowling the ground where the Hunters were buried, nervous and agitated. She’d been expecting this. She’d known that this was a foolhardy idea from the beginning. But SilverSide was the leader — there was nothing she could do about that short of challenging her again, and SilverSide was simply too strong. KeenEye gave LifeCrier a baleful, accusing glance and bounded toward the youngling.

“Go see where they are,” she ordered the young male. “Quickly!”

“SilverSide hasn’t had time yet to destroy Central,” LifeCrier said, coming up behind KeenEye as she watched the youngling rush away. “Only a few more minutes —”

“Or perhaps she’s already been killed and this is a squad of Hunters who will kill the rest of us.”

“SilverSide is the OldMother’s —”

“Be quiet!” KeenEye growled in savage HuntTongue. “I am tired of hearing this prattling about OldMother and the Void. SilverSide has made a mistake, whether she is from the OldMother or not.”

“And what would you have done, KeenEye? Would you let us slowly starve to death? At least SilverSide is trying to do something about the WalkingStones.”

Their argument went no further. The youngling came back panting. “They are workers,” he gasped, his head lolling and his tongue out. “But one of them has hands like the Hunters. That one walks in front, like a leader.”

“SilverSide had said that Central might send workers,” LifeCrier said.

“She didn’t say that they would have the weapons of the Hunters, though, did she?” KeenEye glowered. “If they’re workers, then we will destroy them as we did the others. They will be expecting us here. LifeCrier, you will go to the west and circle to come behind them; I will go east and do the same. The rest of you will hide in the trees until these workers begin to dig. Then we’ll hit them from all sides at once. Make sure the first one attacked is the one with Hunter’s hands.”

KeenEye looked at each of the small group of kin and lapsed back into KinSpeech, gruffly affectionate. “We must stop them from unearthing the Hunters. We must try to give SilverSide the time she asked for.” She looked at LifeCrier last of all. “Even if it means nothing,” she added. “Nowgo!”

KeenEye and LifeCrier streaked away as the others melted into the cover of trees around the glade.

... Continued in Volume VII

Sources of dates

(For Volume 6)

AD = Anno Domini

GE = Galactic Era

FE = Foundational Era

Robot City Takes place about twenty years before Robots and Empire (Han Fastolfe is still alive, and the number of Settler worlds is smaller than in RaE).

Robots and Aliens Takes place one year after Robot City.

Table of Contents

Title page

Copyright

Table of Contents

Cyborg

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Prodigy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Refuge

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Perihelion

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Changeling

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Sources of dates