Prodigy

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."