Odyssey

Chapter 5. Reply

Dispirited, Derec retreated to the E-cell, his illusion of being even partially in control of his own fate destroyed. There was no chance of his reconstructing the pod himself. He might leave the community using one of the augmented worksuits, but there was no way he could leave the asteroid. It seemed that all he could do was stay out of the robots’ way and wait for whoever Analyst 17 had signalled to respond.

As though the robots had decided that he needed something to keep him occupied and safely out of their way, Derec found the wardroom com center unlocked and displaying the word “READY.” When Derec touched the “Help” key, a short menu popped up on the screen. It offered him a choice between something called Scratchpad and a library index.

Scratchpad proved to be a cross between a notebook and an engineer’s sketch pad. He amused himself for a while with its graphics capabilities by drawing a map of the part of the complex he knew firsthand. The system made it easy for him, converting his unsteady movements with the tracer into straight lines, copying duplicate sections, performing fills and rotations.

When drawing deteriorated into doodling, Derec shifted mental gears and decided to make a diary of what had happened since he had awoken in the pod. But his first entry was self-conscious and self-indulgent, and he ended his log with a short sarcastic note:

Dear Mom,

I got no friends here. Can I come home?

Embarrassed by his own self-pity, Derec purged the Scratchpad memory and pushed his chair away from the terminal. But the terrible feeling of separateness which underlay the thought was not so easily banished. Without family, friends, an ally of any sort, Derec’s little world was a lonely place.

The book-film library was Derec’s last defense against maudlin thoughts. Scanning the directory, he was struck by the unusual mix of entries. There was a whole subdirectory of texts from Earth’s Classical Age, including a few whose authors or titles Derec was intrigued to discover he recognized: Lucretius’De Rerum Natura, Newton’sPrincipia, Darwin’sThe Origin of Species.

Another large subdirectory consisted of architectural drawings and photographs. Again, a few names struck chords in Derec’s memory-Mies van der Rohe, Buckminster Fuller, Frank Lloyd Wright. But when he asked the system to sample those files at one image every few seconds, he found the images were of places that he could not remember ever being and structures he could not remember seeing. It left him wondering why he knew the names in the first place.

Conspicuously absent was any sort of current technical reference on such topics as microelectronics, robotics, process design, and the like. Derec assumed that they were in a separate technical library not available to him.

But there were other sections which under other circumstances would probably have appealed to him-a biography of robotics pioneer Susan Calvin;Genesis, Marvin Eller’s anecdotal history of twentieth-century computer science; a screenful of titles on astronomy and astrography.

But Derec was not interested in being educated, or in anything that required thinking. He wanted to be a spectator to someone else’s problems, to disengage his mind and surrender himself to the spell of the storyteller.

Yet when he turned to the fiction subdirectory, he found the pickings sparse. Aside from a few interactive mysteries and a half-dozen text novels, all of which would require too much work on his part, Derec’s choice was limited to the world of theater.Faust,Waiting for Godot,Daedalus and Icarus,Sweeney Todd -the titles meant nothing to Derec. But Shakespeare he knew, and Shakespeare was well represented on the list.

Feeling a need for laughter, Derec chose the comedyA Midsummer Night’s Dream. Then he retreated to a comfortable chair, propped his feet up on the conference table, and let the recording carry him away to ancient Greece, to a woods near the city of Athens, where hemight amuse himself with the love-crossed confusion of human and fairy kings, and the pranks of the devilish sprite Puck.

“Up and down, up and down,” Puck vowed. “I will lead them up and down. I am feared in field and town. Goblin, lead them up and down-”

In the middle of Puck’s declamation, Derec heard the unmistakable sound of the inner door of the airlock opening. He came to his feet as a Supervisor entered the wardroom and crossed toward the com center.

“What do you want?” Derec demanded, following.

The robot ignored Derec. “Priority interrupt,” the robot said to the com center. The screen went black and the speakers silent.

The robot’s fingers flew over the keypad in a blur, but nothing appeared on the screenexcept the instruction PROCEED.

Without hesitation, the robot began to hammer at the keys again. Even standing only an arm’s length away, Derec had no clue to what the robot was entering. The steady staccato of keyclicks lasted perhaps twenty seconds-three or four hundred characters. Then the robot raised his hand and stepped back.

MESSAGE TRANSMITTED, the screen acknowledged.

“Resume,” the robot said, and turned to go.

“Cancel,” Derec said, moving quickly to place his body between the robot and the door. “Identify yourself.”

“I am Analyst 9.”

“What’s happening? What did you just do?”

“Please stand aside,” Analyst 9 said. “I have urgent duties elsewhere.”

“The last time one of you was in here, it was to send a distress message. What’s up now? Is aship here? Is that it? I have a right to know what’s going on-”

For an answer, Analyst 9 raised his arm and pushed Derec firmly out of the way. He stumbled back toward the conference table and sat down hard in one of the chairs.

“Do not interfere,” the Supervisor said, and left the room.

Though his shock at the robot’s physical treatment of him slowed him for an instant, Derec scrambled to his feet and followed.

Out in the chamber, Derec found frenzied activity bordering on chaos. Dozens of porter and picker robots were streaming off the lifts, as if some massive exodus were underway. Scores more were scurrying through the aisles gathering up components and carrying them toward the west wall and the recycling smelter located there.

To Derec’s astonishment, instead of depositing what they held and turning back to get more, the pickers and porters queued up at the smelter carried their burdens directly into the heart of the smelter and never appeared again. For some reason, the robots were systematically destroying selected items in their storehouse-and themselves at the same time.

Distracted by the parade of suicidal robots, Derec had lost track of Analyst 9. Now, as he scanned the chamber to try to find it, he saw something else extraordinary. There were no Supervisors anywhere in the warehouse. The various manufacturing centers were standing silent and abandoned.

On a hunch, Derec fought his way through to the lift and commandeered a platform to carry him up to Level Zero. There he found a gathering of twenty Supervisors. They were standing motionless in a circle, with hands linked as though in some sort of direct conference.

They took no notice of his arrival, and so Derec crossed the room to where two other Supervisors sat at the giant command console.

“Monitor 5?”

“Yes, Derec,” one of the robots said with a nod of acknowledgment.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?”

“Surface sensors have detected a large spacecraft approaching. The trajectory and velocity profile indicate that it will match orbit with this planetoid.”

“I’m going to get off this rock?” Derec exulted. “Praise the stars!”

“There is a sixty-eight percent probability that the ship intercepted the distress signal. However, there is only a nine percent probability that the ship is here to rescue you.”

That news jolted Derec back to earth. “Intercepted? They aren’t the people you were calling?”

“No, Derec.”

“Who are they, then? What do they want?”

“The ship is currently unidentified.”

“Is that why all the robots downstairs are going crazy?”

“I cannot answer that question now,” Monitor 5 said. “I may be able to tell you more shortly.”

“What should I do?”

“Wait.”

“Great. How long?”

“Not long,” Monitor 5 said, standing. “Excuse me. The Analysts are calling for me.”

Crossing the room, Monitor 5 joined the conference circle. He stood there with them for perhaps two minutes, then the circle broke apart. Most of the Supervisors headed for the lift. Two of them, including Monitor 5, came to where Derec stood.

“I have been appointed to communicate with you,” Monitor 5 said.

“Appointed?” The robot’s choice of word confused Derec.

“By default,” the robot admitted. “None of the Analysts feel comfortable dealing with a human.”

“Are you telling me that they haven’t been talking to me because they don’t want to? They don’t know how?”

“With few exceptions, their experience has been exclusively with other robots. I have been chosen because of my previous success in communicating with you,” Monitor 5 said.

“Is that another exception?” Derec said, indicating the robot standing just behind Monitor 5.

“I am accompanied by Analyst 17.”

“Ah-we’ve met-sort of.”

“Analyst 17 is here to assist me,” Monitor 5 said. “Please, Derec. There are important matters to discuss, and there is very little time.”

“Then get started.”

“Thank you. The Analysts are agreed thatthe approaching ship is a threat to the security of our operation. The possibility of discovery was anticipated by those who placed us here. Our instructions for such a circumstance are to destroy ourselves and this facility. Certain preliminary steps are already underway-”

“The robots at the smelter.”

“Yes. All proprietary technology must be destroyed and the excavation rendered unusable. This directive was impressed on us at the highest level of necessity and urgency. We must comply. However, your presence wasnot anticipated.”

“What do I have to do with it?”

“As long as you are present, we are not able to fulfill our directive, since to destroy the complex would kill you. Even to destroy ourselves would leave you unprotected. Therefore, for us to carry out our directive, it is necessary for you to leave.”

“I’ve been ready to leave since I got here. Just show me the way.”

Analyst 17 spoke up at that point. “Unfortunately, since leaving the community also represents a significant risk to your life, we are unable to assist you in doing this and are in fact obliged to prevent it.”

“So you’re not going to put my pod back together? My safesuit?”

“No.”

“This is crazy.”

“On the contrary, it is fundamentally logical,” Analyst 17 said. “If we protect you, you will almost certainly die, which we cannot allow. If we fail to protect you, you may survive, but you will be placed in grave danger, which we cannot allow.”

Derec looked from Monitor 5 to the Analyst in disbelief, then back again. “So whatare you going to do with me?”

“Nothing,” Monitor 5 said. “No action is possible. If we help you to escape, we will be placing you in danger. But if we prevent your escape, we will also be placing you in danger.”

Derec was starting to get lost in the convolutions of the conversation. “Is that what you want me to do? Escape?”

The robot hesitated. “We want you to remain safe and unharmed.”

It seemed as though the robot were tiptoeing through a logical minefield. “What if I do leave?”

“When we discover that you are gone, we will have to pursue you.” It hesitated again. “However, until you are returned to our care the remainder of the community will be free to pursue the next highest priority directive.”

“In other words, if I escape, the First Law is no longer a factor. You can go ahead and destroy yourselves in good conscience.”

“That is essentially correct,” said Analyst 17, “though I must warn you there is a danger if you continue to discuss it.”

Derec ignored the warning. “Escape to where?”

“We cannot consider that question,” Monitor 5 said.

“Well, I can, and I don’t like the answer!” Derec snapped. “I’ll tell you what I intend to do-as soon as that ship is close enough to pick up the signal from a suit transmitter, I’m getting into one of those augments over there and going up to the surface to ask them to save me from you.”

“We could not allow that.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Go wander around on the surface until my air runs out? This is nuts. How can you even ask me to do such a thing?”

“Derec, I must repeat, there is a danger-,” Analyst 17 began.

“We have not asked you to do anything,” Monitor 5 said. “We have simply outlined for you the consequences of actions you may choose to take.”

“You may not be asking, but you’re dropping some loud hints,” Derec said. “You’re telling me that if I want to go kill myself, you’ll look the other way. I don’t understand how this whole conversation can even be taking place. What’s wrong with all of you?”

Monitor 5 answered. “I am following a highly conditional logic path proposed by Analyst 17-”

“So that’s why he’s really here.”

“-in which the uncertainty of your fate is modified by your own volitional acts to a positive value weighed against the high probability of harm due to inaction.”

“In other words, you talked yourself into it,” Derec said. “Well, you haven’t talked me into it. Your prime objective and your security don’t mean a thing to me. Do you think it’s important to me if you can’t destroy yourselves? I don’t care if that ship belongs to your worst enemy.

“In fact, I’m beginning to think that if they’re your enemy, that makes them my friend. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m sure as hell not going to go kill myself to get you off the hook.”

The robots were apparently not willing to let it go at that. When Derec left Level Zero, Analyst 17 followed. It took a different lift, and when they reached the warehouse level, it studiously trailed several steps behind him. But there was no question that he was under surveillance.

It did not make sense that immediately after asking him to escape, the robots would set a bloodhound to dog his heels. But since he had no intention of doing what the robots wanted, it hardly mattered if he understood. He could safely ignore his shadow.

The warehouse was still a hive of chaotic activity, and Derec retreated from it to the quiet of the E-cell. He thought Analyst 17 might content itself to watch and wait outside, since the cell had only one exit. But the robot came inside as well, and when Derec entered the wardroom, it followed him in and took a seat at the opposite end of the conference table.

At first, however, Derec barely noticed the robot’s entry. The video from a sky camera somewhere on the surface was being displayed on the com center screen. It showed a small, distant orange sun and a field of dim stars in which Derec saw no immediately recognizable patterns. A dark backlit hulk was moving across the star background, growing perceptibly larger as it closed on the asteroid. It was still too far away to show a distinctive profile, but it was clearly a massive spaceship of some kind.

“More propaganda?” Derec asked.

“The Analysts agreed that you have a right to know the source and current status of the threat.”

“Do you think I’m going to see that thing up there and panic? It won’t work. This isn’t much, but it’s home. I’m not leaving.”

The robot made no reply, and remained silent while Derec went to the autogalley and assembled a lunch. When he came back with it and sat down, he soon became painfully conscious of the robot patiently watching him.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Derec asked between mouthfuls.

“Clarify.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you wanted me to skip out. But I couldn’t make a move without you knowing about it.”

“Your conversation with Monitor 5 forced him into recognizing a First Law conflict.”

“You mean his little self-deception fell apart?”

“Monitor 5 is now deeply concerned that you may attempt to escape and harm yourself in the process or as a consequence. To relieve that potential and allow Monitor 5 to return to his duties, I offered to watch you.”

“What about you? Did I make your logic bomb blow up, too?”

“No.”

“So you’re not here to stop me,” Derec said, pushing his plate away. “You’re here to make sure no one else stops me.”

“Your observations are irrelevant to the situation. You have stated your intention to remain in our care.”

“Right.” Derec glanced up at the screen. The ship was still a dark shape without texture, but it now filled fully a third of the frame. “But I still think you expect me to start getting worried and make a move. Well, to show you just how worried I am, I’m going to go in the other room to take a nap,” Derec said, standing. “If you decide to come along, all I ask is that you pick out your own bunk. There isn’t room in mine for two.”