Chimera

Four

Derec Avery watched the screens with mild interest. The central view was a complex collection of concentric, overlapping rings. Where some of the lines crossed, pockets formed containing patternless amalgams of small shapes, like froth or dried, cracked mud, or a cloud of midges. The right-hand screen showed a similar view but without the pockets. The left showed only chaos.

As he watched, the rings on the central screen expanded and shrank minutely, as if jockeying for position in a crowded container, occasionally sending waves through one or more of the broken pockets. One pocket suddenly dissolved, quickly forming its own node and growing a set of rings. On the opposite side another pocket, this one filled with what appeared to be different-sized pebbles, wavered on the brink of dissolution. The pocket changed shape, narrowing, nearly splitting in two, then reinflating. Abruptly, it solidified, the pebbles merging to form a smooth surface. Then the wall burst and pebbles spilled across the orderly waves of circles, rupturing them, forming new pockets of disorder, and within seconds the screen lost all sign of pattern.

"Disappointing," said a calm, genderless alto voice.

"What happened, Thales?" Derec asked, though he already knew.

"I lost a primary anchor in the matrix," replied his office's Resident Intelligence. "When it went, it caused a cascade."

"Did you know it was a primary anchor?"

"No. That is, of course, the problem. I have to assign anchor points without knowing how they relate to the entire matrix. Some are unimportant and stable, others are primary and stable, but a few are primary and corrupted. When they go, they corrupt the entire system."

"Maybe you'll get lucky next time, Thales."

The positronic intelligence did not reply. Thales had long since catalogued most of what it called Derec's "sympathy concessions": meaningless phrases used to soothe hurt feelings or disappointments that, according to Thales, seemed important to people not for what they contained-because they contained nothing useful-but for the fact that they were said. For the moment, it appeared Thales did not consider a response necessary.

The chaos filling the screen in front of Derec, so far resist ant to Thales' attempts at restoring pattern and function, showed all that remained of Derec's ambition: the flexibility of a human mind expressed in a positronic matrix. He had always wanted to build a robotic intelligence that could cope with trauma-with failure-and recover from the brink of collapse. He had hoped to build a robot that would work through Three Law violations and retain a coherent structure, preserving memory and identity in the face of the unacceptable.

He had failed.

The physical fragments of what had been the robot Bogard filled a crate, awaiting shipment…somewhere. The positronic remnants of Bogard's mind filled a buffer in Thales' generously large, though currently abbreviated, memory. Bogard's collapse had resulted from the death of Bok Golner-a death for which Bogard had felt responsible, indeed had inadvertently caused. Golner had been a killer, an anti-robot fanatic, and had been about to kill Derec when Bogard came to his creator's rescue. But none of that mattered in the absolutist structure of a positronic brain which prohibited the taking of a human life, intentions notwithstanding. Thales believed the key to Bogard's failure could be pulled from those shards. But after nearly a year, they had proved indecipherable. Thales continued to express optimism; Derec was not as sanguine.

"Perhaps," the RI said, "I should make a copy of each stage so that I can reset one step back rather than do the entire construct over. Of course, that would require a larger memory buffer than the one to which I now have access."

"Oh, well," Derec said, standing. "Sorry."

"I understand, Derec. No need to apologize."

Perversely, Derec felt a pang of guilt. That lack of memory had been a problem throughout Thales' attempts to reorder Bogard's matrix. Thales simply did not have enough in its present configuration. Derec counted them both lucky to have as much as they did. Of course, any less might begin impairing Thales' normal functions.

"I can try to make another request…" he said.

"If you think it will help."

No, he thought, but it might make me feel better to try…

Derec reached to the screen of chaos and touched an icon. The screen went blank.

"Do you wish me to continue, Derec?" Thales asked.

"Sure. I'm…I have some other things to tend to."

"Of course."

Derec drifted into his living room. Against one long wall a subetheric showed two political candidates soundlessly debating. He frowned, recognizing one of them: Rega Looms. For a moment, Derec felt confused, then remembered that Looms was running for a senate seat in the upcoming election. He had declared in opposition to Jonis Taprin, who had replaced Clar Eliton the previous year in a recall election. Taprin ran now on a revised, anti-robot platform, a complete about-face from his position not fourteen months earlier when, as Eliton's vice senator, he had supported what had become known as "Concessionism" and a gradual reintroduction of positronics on Earth.

In retrospect, Derec did not know how much he had ever believed it could be done. In Earth's long history of social change, fickle politics, and policy-by-trend, the ban on positronics had lasted the longest and tenaciously resisted reform. Hard to believe, on a world where once the newest and brightest and best technologies had been created and dispensed and embraced with almost childlike passion for novelty.

Curious, Derec turned on the volume.

"-travel to other worlds has diluted Earth's reservoir of genius," Looms said, jabbing the armrest of his chair with a stiff finger. "I'll concede that you now hold a position with which I have long been in agreement, that positronics should not be allowed a return to Earth, but I feel that you don't go far enough. Positronics is not the only threat."

"Mr. Looms, with all due respect," Taprin said smoothly, clearly the more practiced public figure, "you can't expect us to shut down commerce. What you suggest would break the back of our economy."

"No, sir, I think that's alarmist and misleading. Economies are artificial constructs, just like any other machine. We make them what we want them to be. I am simply saying that we should change the way in which we operate our economy so that we can eventually sever all ties to other worlds."

"But, sir, you must take into account that there are citizens-Terrans-who simply don't want those ties severed."

"There are also Terrans who want positronic robots," Looms countered. "We don't let them dictate policy."

"The numbers, sir, the numbers-"

Derec switched off the subetheric. Looms' campaign strategy seemed to be to try to become more reactionary than his reactionary opponent. A year ago Derec would not have given that tactic a chance of success, but Earth always surprised him.

"You have a call, Derec," Thales said. "Ambassador Ariel Burgess. "

Derec considered telling Thales to say he was out. Instead, he went to the comm and pressed his thumb on the ACCEPT. "Hello."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Derec, but are you busy right now?" Ariel asked crisply.

The visual was off, so Derec allowed himself a wry smile. "Nothing pressing."

"Would you come up to my office? I need-I'd appreciate your opinion on something."

"'Something.' For instance?"

There was a pause. "Please."

Derec blinked. Please…? "I'll be right there."

"Thank you. "

The connection broke and Derec stared at the comm, baffled.

"Thales, I'll be in Ambassador Burgess's offices for a while," he said, moving to the door. "In case anything comes up."

"Very well, Derec." Ariel's offices consisted of four large chambers in the main diplomatic quarter of the Auroran Embassy. The lone robot at the reception desk magnified the impression of emptiness: Only one robot, out of a staff of four robots and eleven people a year before.

"Ambassador Burgess is expecting you, sir," the robot said as he entered. "Go right through."

"Thank you. "

Derec pushed open the door to Ariel's personal office.

He hesitated. Hofton stood behind and to the left of Ariel's chair, hands folded appropriately before him, posture straight and attentive, looking as if he had not been absent for most of the last year, transferred to another office. He inclined his nearly hairless head in greeting but otherwise said nothing, face professionally expressionless.

A man sat in one of Ariel's highback visitor's chairs. He stood as the door closed behind Derec. Tall, wide-shouldered, with short, gray-flecked hair, dark eyes set deep below pale eyebrows, and a too-straight nose that hinted at cosmetic retouch, he looked familiar to Derec.

"Mr. Lanra," Ariel said, "this is Derec Avery, special attachй to my department. "

Derec gave her a sharp look.

"Derec, " she continued smoothly, "this is Coren Lanra, head of security for DyNan Manual Industries."

Derec gripped Lanra's hand. "I've heard of you, of course. Mia Daventri said you helped her out during the Managin…situation last year."

"Indeed, " Lanra said. "And you 're the head of Phylaxis Group. "

"Once upon a time."

Lanra frowned.

"I've asked Mr. Avery," Ariel said, "to sit in as an impartial witness. He's attached to my office but he doesn't work for me, unlike Hofton."

Lanra sat down. "I'd hoped to confine this meeting to just you and I, Ambassador Burgess. "

"Humor me, Mr. Lanra. The past year has made me wary of private meetings."

Lanra almost smiled at that. "Very well. I have a problem which may interest you. I'd like to enlist your expertise."

"In what capacity?"

Derec moved to the other visitor's chair and sat down. Lanra seemed to be deliberating, lips pursed, hands pressed together meditatively.

"You must understand," he said slowly, "that this has nothing to do with DyNan. This is a private matter concerning Rega Looms and myself."

"If you say so," Ariel said dryly.

Lanra sighed wearily. "Rega Looms' daughter was found dead less than twenty-four hours ago on Kopernik Station. She was involved in running baleys and was apparently accompanying a group of them. All fifty-two are dead."

Ariel winced. "I'm terribly sorry. But how-"

"She had a robot in her possession."

Derec sat forward, startled. Hofton moved his hands behind his back, which made him seem even more attentive. Ariel stared at Lanra, openly amazed.

After a long silence, Ariel cleared her throat. "This hasn't been on the newsnets."

"Not yet," Lanra said. "I hope to keep it that way for a few days. Longer if possible, but sooner or later someone is going to make some connections, find a source-something."

"That's…unique, Mr. Lanra…"

Lanra said nothing.

"The daughter of Rega Looms," Derec said, as much to break the silence as to confirm what he had heard, "had a robot."

"Yes, Mr. Avery."

"Her own?"

"I presume so."

"And where is it now?"

"On Kopernik, under security lock."

"Forgive me," Ariel said, "but I still don't see how this concerns us."

Derec frowned at her. "This robot, it was collapsed?"

"Uh…yes, " Lanra said. "Frozen up, unresponsive. But there's activity-at least, there's current still running through it. I don't know enough about them to know if that means anything."

"Well-" Derec began.

"I repeat," Ariel interrupted, "I still don't see how this concerns us."

Lanra shifted uncomfortably. "Forgive me, but it was my understanding that you are the liaison from the Calvin Institute here on Earth."

Ariel pursed her lips, inclining her head as if to say And…?

"This is a robotics issue," Lanra said. "Your field. Positronics." His expression darkened. "I don't know anyone else here. If there are other specialists, I'm not aware of any-at least, none I can get access to."

"And none you'd want to confide this to in any case," Ariel said. "I suppose you want us to try to recover its memories, if possible. "

"Something like that."

Ariel laughed sharply. "How much do you know about our situation, Mr. Lanra? Mia surely told you something about our current problems. I can't believe you'd come here like this without having done a little background work."

Lanra straightened in his chair and the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "I know that you aren't held in very high esteem by your own people. Last year's events with Senator Eliton-"

"Ex-Senator Eliton," Ariel said crossly.

"-didn't come out in your favor, as perhaps they should have."

"That's generous of you, Mr. Lanra," Derec said. "

Generous? No, Mr. Avery, merely fair. Ex-Senator Eliton's duplicity cost us all a gram or two of flesh. We were both under scrutiny for things Eliton engineered."

Faking his own death to discredit positronics, Spacer diplomacy, ruin a long-overdue reconciliation with Earth, Derec thought bitterly, and wrecking my own ambitions as a side-effect…yes, that was an expensive experience.

"Involving ourselves in Terran affairs," Ariel said slowly, "cost us perhaps a bit more than you know."

"I may be able to help you defray some of those costs."

Ariel shook her head. "Based on the chance that Rega Looms will be elected to the Terran Senate? You have to know how ironic that would be to us." She stood. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lanra, but I don't really think there's anything we can do to help you."

"You haven't heard everything yet, " Lanra said, rising.

"I'm not interested."

"Then why did you agree to see me?"

"Simple courtesy, Mr. Lanra. You were helpful to us last year. I'm sorry we can't return the favor, but the situation is too complicated just now. If you'll excuse me."

"But-"

Derec watched Ariel end the interview with a firm shake of her head. She glanced at him, then left the office, leaving Lanra staring after her.

The door closed and Lanra sighed heavily. He looked at Derec. "I don't suppose you can do anything?"

"Like what? Talk her into something that I agree is a bad idea?"

"I thought you'd be interested in the problem. I thought you might welcome a chance to-"

Derec shook his head.

"You're not interested?"

Derec laughed. "Of course I'm interested. That's beside the point."

"You're a private citizen, Mr. Avery. Would you consider taking the job as a consultant? I imagine Ambassador Burgess could order you to stay here, but would she if you took this up of your own choice?"

Lanra's eyes danced knowingly, as if he knew something about Derec no one else did. Under other circumstances, Derec decided, Coren Lanra might be an interesting man to know.

"We misjudged you, " Derec said. "You knew exactly what our problems were before you came in here, didn't you? I'm not exactly a private citizen, not in any way that gives me the freedom of movement to do what you ask. Aurora's entire policy is one of wait and see, don't move, stay still and maybe the situation will change. So even if Ariel might want to help you, it's doubtful Ambassador Setaris would allow it. But you knew all this. Why pretend otherwise?"

"I didn't want anyone to feel pressured. People work better if they think they have a choice." Lanra shrugged. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Avery. Perhaps under other circumstances…" He headed for the exit. "If you reconsider-"

"I have your code, sir," Hofton said.

"Thanks. "

The door closed softly and Derec let out a heavy breath. He considered for a few moments doing exactly what Lanra suggested: taking the job, whatever it was, and chancing Ariel's anger.

But she had a good point-what chance was there that Rega Looms could win his run for the Senate? And if he did, how likely would it be that he would help the very people he most wanted off Earth?

"I hate it when she's so right," Derec said. He looked up then at Hofton, who seemed amused. "You were awfully quiet."

"Not my place to interject opinion," Hofton said. "Besides, I concur with Ariel's assessment."

"What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had been assigned to another department."

"Which has been shut down. I'm taking leave from official duties for a time. Ariel asked me to attend this meeting as a favor."

Another department closed…The Auroran presence on Earth shrank a little more each week. Ariel kept these offices only because they had no other use for them. She retained her title and, presumably, her perks for appearances only, but Derec knew that Ambassador Setaris would ship her back to Aurora in an instant if she could. Derec, too, for that matter. They were embarrassments to the Auroran mission here; they stayed only because admitting it to Earth by recalling them would be more embarrassing.

But it would not take much to shift that balance.

Still, to get his hands on a complete positronic lab would be worth a few risks. He might be able to get Thales the extra memory buffers then, might be able to set up a more thorough analysis protocol on Bogard, while working on Lanra's problem, might-

"Derec. " Ariel stood in the doorway. "Don't even think about it." "I know you too damn well. " Ariel poured them drinks. Hofton sat now in the chair vacated by Coren Lanra. Derec reflected idly that he had never before seen Hofton relaxing. Ariel handed him a scotch, then gave another to Derec.

"You were just as tempted as I was," Derec said.

"I doubt it. I've had enough of being burned by Terrans. "

Derec sipped at his drink. "But think of it! Rega Looms, the great Luddite, has-had-a daughter who owned a robot."

"If I may point out," Hofton said, "Mr. Lanra said a robot was found in her company. He never said she owned it."

"She was a baley runner," Derec said. "That's what Lanra said: she was running illegal emigrants, she was in charge. I don't think a baley slipping by ITE would be allowed to bring along a robot. Therefore, it's only logical that it was hers."

"Lanra probably thinks the robot killed her," Ariel said. "He wants us to substantiate his suspicion. That would be convenient, wouldn't it? Any help Rega Looms might have been able to offer would evaporate when we hand him verification of his worst fears."

"Come on," Derec protested. "How could that be? From his description, the robot is collapsed. Obviously a Three Law violation occurred-"

"You had a robot that collapsed after it killed someone."

Derec stiffened. "That was an accident."

Ariel shrugged. "Whatever. So might this have been. Would Rega Looms appreciate the difference?"

"It's doubtful in any event," Hofton said, "that Mr. Looms-should he win the election-could do anything on our behalf under any circumstances without compromising his newly-won mandate. Should he win, he will do so as the avatar of the anti-robot faction and, unless I've misunderstood his rhetoric, the anti-Spacer faction as well. Added to that, his daughter was engaged in illegal activities that ran counter to his political position and the rhetoric of his church. That can't be explained away. I suspect Mr. Lanra is offering what he cannot guarantee."

"If Coren Lanra has his way," Ariel said, "none of this will ever become public. He's doing damage control."

"Precisely," Hofton said. "And with no public reason to do so, Looms will have no private reason to fulfill any obligations his agents may make without his knowledge."

"Rega Looms has a dead daughter," Derec said. "Someone's going to notice."

They sat in silence for a time, brooding. Derec began to resent Lanra for bringing something to them that offered the possibility of rehabilitating their situation. Raised hopes crumbled too easily under analysis.

"It would be interesting," Hofton said finally, "to know where she got a robot. And how she managed to keep it with her." He finished his drink and stood. "I have a few chores to tend to. Thank you for the chance to act the part of your aide once more. It was fun. Should you need further performances…"

"You'll be the first I call, Hofton," Ariel said, smiling wanly. "Thanks."

Hofton bowed his head. "Ambassador." He walked out.

"I'm going to miss him," Ariel said.

Derec shot her a look. "Have you heard something?"

"No, but how much longer could it be?" She leaned forward and turned her glass idly on the desk. "I still do a little liaison work so I get to keep track of some of the numbers of illicit robot traffic. There's still activity, but it's declined precipitously in the last year."

"Is that a surprise? ITE must be working overtime now that they feel they have permission."

"Mmm. Mostly, I get to do P.R. work with irate Spacer businesses. The latest was a complaint about a five-hour delay in shipping. An unscheduled route change out of Petrabor spaceport." She shrugged. "Five hours. You'd think the world was ending to hear the complaint. Too much excitement sometimes." She smiled grimly. "Did you know Alda Mikels is being released next week?"

"I thought he was sentenced to ten years for public endangerment. "

Ariel shrugged. "Terran jurisprudence. Damned if I can see what's prudent about it. But how long after that do you think it will be before he starts haranguing us in public of trying to bring a suit against us? That might just convince Setaris to ship us home."

Derec closed his eyes and swallowed more scotch. Alda Mikels: head of Imbitek Heavy Industries, industrialist, engineer. And murderer. The trial had lasted nearly two months-scores of witnesses, experts and counterexperts testifying…but not one positronic specialist. Derec had been deposed, as had Ariel, but neither of them had been called to the stand. Something about their status as noncitizens, it seemed; Derec never did get it entirely straight.

Mikels had sabotaged the complex Resident Intelligence of Washington D.C.'s Union Station, the showpiece on Earth for positronics. The fragile treaties and agreements that had allowed it to be built in the first place as an intercultural zone where Earthers might come to see for themselves how positronics worked, the first step in a hoped-for reintroduction of robots to Earth, shattered in the aftermath of that very system's failure and the subsequent slaughter of so many Spacer and Terran diplomats.

A failure Alda Mikels had implemented.

But the end result had been that Mikel's sabotage had been poorly understood and therefore the harm he'd done had been rendered less his responsibility than the unpredictable nature of positronics. Derec had watched, amazed, when the lesser indictment of "Public Endangerment" had been handed down.

It had all been part of a larger scheme to discredit positronics and any possible diplomatic advancements in Spacer-Terran relations. At its center had been Senator Clar Eliton, a man who had convinced Aurora of his honest intentions to help bring robots back to Earth. For his part, Eliton had escaped prison because of the frail evidence to connect him to Mikels and the others involved-which included the former head of Special Service, who had vanished. At least Eliton had been recalled, losing his senate seat in the process.

Not that his replacement, Jonis Taprin, was much better. He was openly hostile to Spacers and robotics. Better that than the oily duplicity in which Eliton had indulged, Derec felt.

But it had been Mikels' technology that had undermined the positronic intelligence that ran Union Station and allowed a team of assassins to enter the main gallery and shoot down the gathering of diplomats who had arrived to commence the conference they had hoped would begin reconciliation.

Coren Lanra's employer, Rega Looms, had been suspected for a time. None of his people had been shot during the slaughter, which made him look very culpable. But that, too, had been a set-up.

Their own involvement-Derec's and Ariel's-had gotten them sequestered to the embassy, in a legal limbo, awaiting deportation at the convenience of Sen Setaris, the head of the Auroran mission on Earth. Ariel's confinement had been repealed after a few months as certain duties were returned to her, but as far as Derec knew she rarely left. He often wondered what was taking so long to deport them. It seemed cruel to leave them dangling like this, teasing them with possibilities. He had grown numb waiting.

He finished his scotch and went to the bar for another.

"My question," Derec said, "is how come we're being so careful? Do you really want to stay here?"

Ariel frowned. "I don't-"

"You 're afraid to do anything that might get us kicked back to Aurora sooner. We both know that's what they intend to do anyway. Why are we being so careful? I repeat: do you want to stay on Earth?"

"I don't know." She looked at him. "Don't you?"

"Under these circumstances?" He shrugged and left the question hang. In truth, he was tom. Saying no would mean he had never found anything worthwhile here, which would be a lie. Saying yes meant he was willing to tolerate anything to remain, which would be a bigger lie. His affection for Earth complicated his thinking. He finished his second scotch and set the glass down. "Thanks for the drink. I have some time to hunt down and kill, so if you'll excuse me…"

Ariel raised her own glass in mock assent.

Derec left her offices and headed down the corridors, in the direction of his apartment, his mood muddied by the alcohol. He reached the elevator and punched the button.

"Mr. Avery?"

Derec turned slowly. Coren Lanra stood nearby.

"Forgive me," Lanra said. "I just thought you'd like to know-that you'd be interested to know-that we believe a robot was responsible for Nyom Looms' death."

Derec stared at him. One more point in Ariel's favor…

"That's impossible, of course," he said.

Lanra smiled thinly. "So you say. But I suppose you'll never know now. Thank you for your time. Sorry to bother you."

Derec watched Lanra walk away until the elevator door opened.