The Caterpillars Question

Chapter 5

But her touches did not stop. Her hands were on his shoulder, trying to lift him, trying to make him resume walking. She didn't want to go on without him.

He tried again, this time with reason rather than muscle. "Tappy, you have something important to do. You have a destiny. You are the Imago! You must get to where you're going, and you can do it, because you are what you are. But I am only mortal. I can't reach the source of that light. I will die just as that Gaol soldier did. That's how it's meant to be: only you can get through."

He paused, gasping with the effort of shouting through the cloying fog. But he had to convince her. "My job is done. I had to get you safely to this place. Now you must go on. Don't let this effort be in vain! Go and be the Imago! Go! Go!"

But she refused. He knew why: she might be the Imago, but she was also Tappy, the blind, mute girl. She had a crush on him. He, fool that he was, had taken advantage of it, and that had done nothing to abate her love. She had refused to leave him before, and she was refusing now. Reason was no good against adolescent passion.

Which meant that if he gave up, so would she, and it would be for nothing. He had to do something. But what?

Then he thought of the radiator. It had gotten them out of more than one scrape already; could it do so again? But this seemed so farfetched that he couldn't quite say it outright. "The— can it— here?"

But she understood him immediately. She passed her hands along his body until she found the radiator. She brought it up and found a button. He didn't even know which one, only that she put one of his fingers on it.

It was worth a try. He aimed the device away from her, turned it on, and pressed that button.

This time a visible beam came from it. Rather, an invisible beam with a visible effect: it dissipated the fog. In its path the fog just seemed to shrivel or melt, giving out a noisome odor, leaving a tunnel of clear air.

Could he go into that tunnel? If it was the fog that held him, then maybe he could. He hauled one leg forward, toward the clear region ahead. The fog resisted, seeming unwilling to give up the limb, but the fog had been weakened, and the leg was able to break through. Then the other leg. The tunnel was narrow here, but broad ahead, in a slowly thickening cone. His feet remained mired, but his legs were now clear, and he was able to duck his head to clear it, too. What a relief, to breathe free again!

He worked his way farther into the tunnel. It was like stepping out of quicksand; now his body was free. The tunnel remained where it had been carved, enabling him to move through it. He looked back, and saw it slowly squeezing together behind him. But that didn't matter. In fact, it might be good, because he didn't want to leave a passage for the Gaol forces to enter.

He aimed the radiator toward the intermittently flashing light. It sliced through the fog, leaving a closing offshoot like the cutoff elbow of a meandering river. When he held the beam in place, the new tunnel broadened and clarified. He wiggled it around enough to enlarge the tunnel at the near end, then turned it off. He didn't want to waste the radiator's power, not knowing how much of a charge it had.

He glanced at Tappy, who was standing beside him. "It's working," he said, his confidence resurging. "On to the light?"

She nodded. "Then follow me." He marched ahead. He did not want that beam touching her!

Soon there was a whiteness that did not dissipate. It was the hard surface of the structure inside the cloud. It glowed blindingly. By its light he saw pseudopodia of cloud extending inward from the round rim of the tunnel, like so many cilia eager to move him along this intestinal tract. He was not comfortable with the image.

Then, abruptly, it was gone. He blinked, trying to adapt his sight to the relative gloom. Now there seemed to be nothing where the building had been!

In seven seconds it was back, blindingly bright again.

"Tappy, there's something strange here."

She merely urged him on, pushing him from behind.

"There's a glowing wall or something, the side of the building, if that's what it is, for seven seconds; that's what makes the light through the cloud. Then it's gone, and I think it's just an empty hole that the thick fog can't fill in, in only seven seconds. But it can't just vanish! It doesn't sink into the ground; it's just here, and then it's gone, and then it's here again." He was watching it do this while he spoke, shielding his eyes from the brightness so that he could see better in the darkness. "It's as if it just ceases to exist, but there's no implosion of air or anything. Tappy, that thing may be dangerous!"

But she kept on pushing. She was not alarmed; rather, she was excited.

"Tappy, do you understand what I'm saying? This thing is big, maybe a third of a mile on a side, and maybe some kind of super-science can make it phase in and out of reality, but I don't want to be standing on its turf when it phases in! We'd both be crushed flat!"

She came up beside him. She pointed ahead, and nodded her head positively and vigorously. She urged him on yet again.

"Okay, Tappy," he said dubiously. "I'll warn you when we're at the edge, because—"

But now she was hurrying ahead by herself, and he had to lumber after her. "Wait! You're going to run right into it! Wait for it to cycle back!"

Too late. Tappy ran across the section where the wall had been. Then the wall returned, and he crashed into it. The surface was diamond-hard, as befitted its brilliance.

Stunned more by the realization of Tappy's fate than by the physical shock, Jack leaned against the wall. Why had she done it? He had warned her!

As the horror deepened, he struck at the brilliant wall, as if to punish it for crushing that innocent child. Yet he condemned himself, too, for not catching her in time. She had misunderstood, she had not heard, she had—

The wall disappeared. He fell into the vacant space, automatically lifting the radiator clear, taking the fall on his shoulder and side. Pain lanced through him; he knew he had suffered an injury. But what did it matter? In a moment he, too, would be squished so flat that nothing showed. For there was no sign at all of Tappy, not even a bloodstain. She had been totally obliterated.

Jack lay flat on his back and waited for the return of the bright building. Somehow this termination seemed fitting.

Then there was light, but this time gentle, in shifting pastel colors. He blinked, trying to align this with his notion of death. Hands were touching him, caressing him; then a face was kissing him.

It was Tappy. She was whole and warm despite her wet nightie and sodden jacket. She was every bit as glad to find him here as he was to find her.

"But— the building!" he protested, holding her close. Again there were two levels of reaction: the sheer relief and wonder of her wholeness, and the mystery of what had happened. His body was reacting emotionally, while his mind was floundering intellectually.

"If I may," a man's voice said.

Jack jumped, looking around. He had somehow assumed that they were alone in the afterlife, or whatever this was. Now he saw a nondescript young man wearing ordinary shirt and slacks, neither of which seemed to fit perfectly. It was as if the manufacturer had had another body style in mind. "Who?" he asked, at a loss.

"I am an agent of the Imago," the man said. "I and my companions exist to foster the well-being and success of this entity. Because the Imago has assumed human form and has brought a human companion and is conversant with your language, we are assuming this form and mode of communication. Because the Imago desires your welfare, we shall treat you responsively."

Jack looked at Tappy, who nodded, feeling his motion. He made as if to stand, and immediately the man and another came to help him up. Two young women appeared, helping Tappy similarly. The women wore blouses and skirts which seemed to have been crafted by the same misguided tailor who had done the men. Their figures seemed good, but their clothing was making a valiant effort to demonstrate otherwise. The colors were all over the place, nothing matching or complementing well.

This simple action did not reassure Jack. The men looked ordinary, but there was a machinelike strength in their bodies, and their flesh was like plastic. He could see that the women, too, were inhumanly powerful, despite their appealing forms.

Jack found himself feeling light-headed, as if he were running without a warm-up and his system was out of whack, hands cold and pulse racing. He had thought Tappy was dead, then thought he would die, too, and suddenly everything seemed all right. He just didn't trust it!

He had a tendency to react inappropriately when caught out of sorts. He did his best to control it. It wasn't just himself involved here; it was Tappy. When he had undertaken to deliver her to the clinic, he had assumed a commitment to get her there safely. As it had turned out, they had gone on a spectacularly strange journey. Maybe this was the true clinic. But maybe it wasn't. He owed it to her to find out.

"Uh, Tappy— these are your friends?" he asked.

She nodded and smiled.

"Is it okay if I find out more about them?"

Tappy nodded again.

Jack turned to the first man. "Are you human?"

"No. I am what you would call an android or machine. We all are."

"An android, as I see it, is an artificial living man. A robot is a machine in humanoid form with a computer for a brain. Which are you?"

"We conform physically more closely to the latter description. But we are sentient in the manner of the former."

"You mean you are conscious? Free-willed? You're not just a program?"

"That is correct."

Certainly it seemed possible, considering what Jack had already seen: a monstrous spaceship that healed itself, and a building that flashed in and out of existence without crushing what was under it. That cycling seemed to have stopped; once the building had taken them in, it remained firm. "Maybe we had better introduce ourselves. I am Jack. This is Tappy, whom you call the Imago. What are your names?"

"We have none, but will answer to whatever you choose to call us, if the Imago agrees."

"Call her Tappy."

The man glanced at Tappy. "Imago?"

Tappy nodded.

"Jack. Tappy. And our names are?"

The urge to be flippant increased. Jack had to yield to it a little, or risk going wrong in some worse manner. Maybe he could get a smile from Tappy, and tide through. It hardly mattered whether these were friends or enemies: it was better for him to hold his cool until he knew for sure.

He decided to do it the simple way: alphabetically. "You are Abraham, Abe for short. He is Bartholomew, Bart for short. Are there any more of you?"

"There are six of us presently animated," Abe said. "Three of each apparent gender."

That meant that they weren't really male and female.

"Then the third male is Coleman, or Cole." Jack turned to the women. "And you are Abigail, or Abbie, and Bridget, Brie, and the one I don't see is Candace, or Candy."

"Thank you," the two females said together.

"You sound just alike," Jack said. "Can you make your voices different, so we can tell you apart by sound as well as sight?"

"Yes," the two said, in different voices.

"Yes," the two men said, similarly.

Tappy smiled.

This was almost too easy; Jack hardly trusted it. "Look, maybe we'd better get changed, and then we can talk. I guess you folk don't have to eat— you have power cells, right?— but you know we do. So—"

"Certainly," Abe said. "Come with us, Jack."

Jack knew he would have no choice if his will opposed theirs. "We'll change, and then Tappy and I will eat together," he said.

They hesitated. Then Tappy nodded, and Abe spoke immediately. "As you wish, Jack."

They took him to a smaller chamber, where he stripped, wincing as he flexed his bruised shoulder. "You are in physical distress, Jack?" Abe inquired.

"I bashed my shoulder coming in. It will heal."

"There is no need to wait." Abe placed both his hands on the shoulder, one on each side. Jack felt a current, and his pain faded.

The man might be a robot, but he had a healing talent! Maybe it was just some kind of electrical anesthetic, but it made life easier for the moment.

Then Jack stepped into what looked like a shower. Suddenly he felt warm and clean. He had had the equivalent of a full shower in half a second, painlessly. He was still marveling as they presented him with clothing similar to their own. He could tell by the feel that it was of alien material, but it felt good and fit him well. In fact, it seemed to adjust itself to his body of its own volition. So why didn't it fit these alien men and women better?

"Uh, before we go back," Jack said. "Is there a— a bathroom? I mean, a place where I can—?"

"Step into the purifier again," Abe said.

Jack stepped in, but didn't see any toilet. Then, suddenly, he had no need for it. Somehow the wastes in his body had been removed. He decided not to protest.

"Um, Abe— you serve Tappy, right?"

"The present form of the Imago, yes."

"And me you help only because she wants it?"

"Yes. It is not ordinary, but her will is our law, literally."

"And you went to the trouble of learning my language and customs, because of her? You really don't care about me otherwise?"

"This is the situation."

"And if she told you to kill me, you would do it?"

"If she were serious."

"And Tappy herself— you would never harm her, or go against her wish?"

"This is approximately true. Were she to desire something harmful to herself, we would decline—"

"Got it. You really are her agents, no matter what."

"This is the situation."

"Thanks."

"It is her will that you be given full information."

Jack was satisfied with that. Since he also wanted what was best for Tappy, there should be no trouble. If these humanoids really were to be trusted.

They returned to the main chamber. There was now a table there, with fairly familiar food on it. Tappy was standing behind a chair, dressed in a clean and well-fitting blouse and skirt, her hair brushed out and tied back by a red ribbon. Only the scar on her face marred her dawning prettiness. That and the slightly unfocused eyes.

"You look wonderful, Tappy," he said.

She broke into a smile, extending her hand to him. He saw that though she was the mistress here, she remained eager for his company and reassurance.

He took her hand and squeezed it. Then they sat down to their meal, catered by Abbie and Brie.

It consisted of a small lettuce and tomato salad, mashed potatoes, and a steak, with a glass of milk on the side. But the lettuce was red, which was possible, and the tomato green, also possible depending on the variety. The milk was brown, which could mean chocolate. The steak was blue.

It was that last that made him conclude that this was not ordinary food after all. It was artificial food, surely with the requisite nutritive elements. But the Agents— of the Imago— the AI— evidently had no direct experience with the world Jack had known. That showed in their clothing and in the food. Either they were color-blind, or they had misinterpreted the colors. Tappy could not correct them, because she couldn't see the food.

But it took only a moment for Jack to conclude that he should keep his mouth shut, except for eating. This was his first direct evidence that the AI were fallible. There were things they didn't know. That was reassuring. It also argued for their legitimacy, in a perverse way. They were here to help Tappy, who didn't care about the fit of their clothing or the color of the food, so they didn't pay proper attention to that. They hadn't expected Jack, who could see and who knew, so were caught short. Malva would have put him under a mind-probe or something and gotten the details right even if it burned out his brain. The AI had left his mind alone. He had better encourage them to continue doing that.

Tappy was already eating. He dived into his meal, and the taste was close enough. Probably everything was made from hydroponic soybeans and injected with taste and color, but for all he could tell, the steak was from a dragon. It would do.

For dessert Abbie brought green pumpkin pie, and Brie brought cheese. Jack looked at her, and at the cheese, and stifled a laugh. It wasn't that the cheese was blue, literally; it was the coincidence of the name.

Tappy became aware of his reaction. Her face turned toward him.

"It's nothing," he said. "Just that I named her Brie, and Brie is a variety of cheese."

She smiled. Brie, the seeming woman, did not. She did not seem to be offended; she just did not have emotions, and would not have understood the humor anyway.

And there was another key. These were indeed robots. They might be conscious, and know a lot, but they were not feeling. It seemed that it was not feasible for even this advanced civilization to duplicate a living creature to that extent.

They completed the meal, and the AI brought small hand-held units that blinked by their mouths, making them suddenly clean. No toothbrushes needed here!

Now that he was fed, Jack realized how tired he was. It had been an extremely trying sequence of several days, physically and emotionally. The frenzied trek up the mountain in the night, the crossing through the portal, encounters with the honkers, big dome-ship of the Gaol, the capture and interrogation by Malva, the flight in the airplane, the struggle to get through the cloud, the nullification of volition— he realized that he had had no problem with that since Tappy had had him eat the paper with the symbol on it; he felt free-willed now. But tired.

"Maybe it's time to rest," he said. "If it's okay with you folk." He suspected that they had a lot for Tappy to do, but he was sure she was as tired as he was.

Tappy nodded agreement, and that forestalled whatever the AI might have had in mind. "There are bedrooms," Abe said.

They got up, and Tappy managed to catch his hand. Her fingers clung to his, not letting go. She wanted him with her for what passed for night in this building.

Should he argue the case? On the one hand, he did not want to give the AI the notion that he regarded the Imago as a sex object, so it was better to sleep apart. On the other, he still didn't really trust this situation, and feared that once he separated from Tappy for any length of time, he might not be allowed to get together with her again. The AI could kick him out, and tell her that he had decided to go home. Then there would be no living person to watch out for her interests. Maybe the AI really wanted what was best for the Imago— but what of Tappy? There was a living, feeling girl there who was in some ways just like any other, but in other ways a truly tragic figure. Jack was no psychiatrist, but he honestly felt that in this situation, he was the only one who could truly relate to that girl.

So he went with her to the bedroom they had designated for her. The AI expressed no objection. Abe and Abbie came in to undress them.

"Uh—" Jack began. Then it occurred to him that he valued the things the AI did not know about him, and shouldn't give them away. They didn't know that human beings who chose to share a bedroom did not necessarily have strangers undress them. Let them remain ignorant.

So he let them do it. He was facing away from Tappy, and left it that way. In due course he and Tappy were in pajamas and nightie and in the bed, which was large enough for two. The AI withdrew through the doorway, which seemed to close behind them. The light faded, leaving them in darkness.

Tappy found his hand again and drew it to her. She wanted him closer.

Jack knew he had gone wrong once, but he wasn't going to do it again. Not this way. Tempting though the prospect might be, on one not-quite-secret level. If she was the Imago, she was probably beyond his aspirations. If she was a hurt blind girl, she was underage. Either way, forbidden.

"I am here to help you, Tappy," he murmured. "I think I can help you best just by being near you. Until you achieve your destiny." Then he drew his hand loose, rolled onto his stomach, and tried to sleep.

For a moment he was afraid she would start crying. Then she rolled over, too, toward him, and set her hand on his back. With that contact she seemed to be satisfied. Her breathing became even.

He was relieved. He knew that had she insisted on more, he would in the end have succumbed. He had before. It was not easy doing what he believed was right. But it was best. He could never fully redeem the wrong he had done her, there in the cabin in the Green Mountains of Vermont, so far away in more than one sense. Maybe his recent efforts to get her to wherever she was going represented his need to atone. Meanwhile he could at least avoid making it worse.

He slept, and dreamed, and in one dream he was approaching Tappy, desiring her, and feeling guilty for it. He knew, even asleep, that she was beside him, and it was his duty to leave her alone. But there was that in him that wanted it otherwise.

He knew it was morning, because it was light, and Abe and Abbie were there to get them dressed. Jack felt greatly refreshed; maybe there was something restorative in the air here. He had slept well, and it seemed that Tappy had, too. He was amused to note that the two AI had gotten mixed up again: Abbie was tending to Jack, and Abe to Tappy. An individual's sex was evidently not of great significance to them.

They took turns in the shower, stripping down for it. Jack had managed to avoid looking at Tappy's nude body the night before, but realized that he could not do so now without making more of his human foibles apparent than he cared to. Fortunately he had a reflex that prevented him from having a masculine reaction in public. So he affected neutrality, as he had during the night. Whatever the AI did not know about any aspect of his relationship with Tappy was fine by him.

Her body was and was not what he expected. She was slender, but not thin; her legs were nicely fleshed, her hips and buttocks rounding into womanhood, and her breasts were well enough formed. Yet neither was she at the adult level. He judged that she was about halfway across her transition from childhood to womanhood, physically. In some countries, as he understood it, a girl was considered to be old enough if she appeared old enough; mere years did not define statutory rape. In such a country, he would have been in trouble anyway.

But there was something else. That intangible glow. She turned her face to him and smiled, fathoming where he stood, and it was as if there were an aura about her. She knew what they had done, and she regretted it not at all. She had in that sense proven herself. Perhaps it had been at that point that she became independent of the need for the leg brace. She had begun to assume command of the situation, to choose her own course. To lead. She had led him to the portal between worlds. The Imago had begun to manifest, and surely it permeated her now. She had power, and knew it, and her growing confidence manifested in a straighter stance, a certainty of acceptance, and a subtle knowing. In a country that judged by attitude, she would be deemed old enough.

When she was dressed, that aura remained. She took his arm, guiding him rather than being guided by him. She squeezed, indicating that she was by no means through with him. Oh, yes, she was changing!

After breakfast it was time for talk. They sat in comfortable chairs in a three-quarter circle. "There is more to clarify, Jack, and it is best if your ignorance is quickly abated," Abe said. "We think you will be more receptive if you learn it in your own manner. Please make the remaining inquiries in your mind."

Jack reminded himself that this was not a living man. He should not react to the seeming condescension. But he was slightly irritated. So he became slightly unreasonable, "I have no remaining inquiries, thank you."

Tappy's face turned to him. Her tongue was between her teeth, as if she needed to bite it. She was amused.

"Surely you do, Jack," Bart said, neither amused nor annoyed.

"You folk are interchangeable?" Jack inquired, now playing to his audience of one living person. "You alternate on sentences?"

"Yes, if you wish," Abe said.

"What about the missing two? Why haven't we seen Cole or Candy?"

"They have been at work on maintenance. But you need have no concern, their responses would be identical to ours

This was getting nowhere Jack knew he was being unreasonable. Therefore he became more so. "Maybe I d rather judge that for myself" He stood "I'll go find Candy."

Abe looked at Tappy. She tittered. It was the first truly human sound he remembered hearing from her. Abruptly his unreasonableness took another turn. "You're here to serve the Imago right? Well, you can serve her best by removing the block that stops her from talking to me in my language. You can do that, can't you?"

"We can," Abe agreed "But—"

"Then get on it!" Jack snapped "Then she can ask the questions. Let me know when she's ready." He strode from the chamber

No one followed. Probably Tappy had indicated no, and she herself had been intrigued by the notion of being able to talk again. He had half expected Tappy to try to come with him, to plead silently with him, but she had not. It was a sign of her new confidence that she knew he was making a deliberate scene, and apparently she was enjoying it. Maybe the emotionless AI manikins annoyed her, too, but because they served her, she could not make an issue of it.

But now he was stuck wandering around the building without a guide. He had no idea where he was going. So he was making pretty much of a fool of himself. But he was stuck on his course. He kept walking, striding down the hall he found himself in.

He came to some sort of central square, except that it was round. Halls radiated out to the four directions, and there were shafts going up and down. He was walking so fast that he was stepping into the pit below before he realized. But he didn't fall. He just floated across the center, as if he weighed nothing, his inertia carrying him on to the far side.

Antigravity? Well, why not" They seemed to have everything else.

He decided to explore the shaft above. He turned and jumped. If there really was no gravity here, he should be able to sail right up to the top.

Instead he found himself angling toward the far wall of the shaft. He twisted as well as he could before crashing into it, managing to get a foot out to break his fall. But instead of rebounding back into the center, he found himself catching his balance and straightening up. The wall was now his floor.

He looked back There was the center, with its radiating halls. Now the one he was in seemed level, and the one he had come from seemed vertical

Jack shook his head. Live and learn! He resumed his walk, going toward what might or might not be the top of the building. There did seem to be light at the end of the passage

It turned out to be an opaque but glowing wall. Or floor. When he came to it, his orientation shifted again, and now he was walking on it. Its surface seemed slightly curved, so that he could not see the full length of the new passages, which extended in four directions from the mergence. This was like the center square, only one hall was missing the one which would have led on through the wall and outside, perhaps.

"Where do I go from here?" he asked himself aloud He realized that he could fairly readily get lost, and make an even bigger fool of himself than so far. Maybe that was why the AI had let him go: they were waiting for him to give up and accept their way of doing things. Passive persuasion.

A woman appeared before him "May I assist you, Jack?"

Startled, he stared at her. She was definitely not one of the ones be had seen before Abbie and Brie were female but conservatively so, really not much more developed than Tappy herself. This one was comparatively voluptuous, with an orange dress that showed the rounded upper contours of her breasts somewhat more than would have been the case had the fit been perfect. Her dark hair swirled about her face and shoulders cohesively, lending additional sex appeal.

"I have two questions. Three. Four."

"I am at your service, Jack."

"You are one of them? An AI?"

"Yes, Jack "

"Then you must be Candy."

"Yes."

"How did you appear so suddenly?"

"I stepped through the panel." She demonstrated by stepping back. Her body disappeared, first the front side, then the back side. Then her face reappeared, framed by darkness "It is an opaque screen. You may enter, if you wish." Her face disappeared again.

Jack put out one hand. It passed through the opacity and disappeared "Oh— like the rock."

"Like a portal, yes," Candy agreed. She was standing in the chamber, which was like another bedroom. Now he was, too. "And your fourth question?"

"Why are you so different from the others?"

"We established four of us as the original complement, of a neutral type, to serve the Imago and her companion. We were not certain what was in order, so withheld two pending further information. Our research indicated that your species is highly sexual, and since you did not indulge with Tappy, we crafted my form to be more mature. You may relieve your sexual frustration with me, if you wish."

So he and Tappy had been watched. Somehow he had known that would be the case. The AI intended to protect the Imago, and for all they knew, he could be dangerous to her.

"I'm not sexually frustrated," he said shortly.

"Then I apologize for our misunderstanding. When your copulatory member became rigid in the night—"

"That's normal!" They had observed, all right! He had forgotten the dream, but now it came back. He hoped they had not been able to see into his mind then.

"We did not know." Candy said. "Your particular species has not come often to our attention. I can assume a less provocative shape."

"You can do that? Just change your shape?"

"Do you wish me to demonstrate this?"

Suddenly he believed it. "No. Keep your present form. I like it." And maybe, he realized, he should take her up on her offer, so as not to be further tempted by Tappy. Candy might be a robot, but he suspected that she would feel exactly like the most cooperative of women, and she surely knew what she was doing. In that sense, she was adult, regardless of her technical age.

"I will show you more of my body, since you like it," she said, her hand going to her dress.

"No!" For suddenly he realized that this, too, would be wrong. She was a machine, possessing no emotion, so it would inevitably be fake, not real. A cross between sex and masturbation. And to whatever extent it was real, it would be a betrayal of Tappy.

"I apologize for disturbing you. I will conform precisely to your expectation, if you will advise me what—"

"It's not that. It's—" But again, he did not want to tell her, knowing that in reality she was a neuter machine. "Just how old are you, anyway?"

"In your terms, approximately one hundred thousand years."

Jack tried to keep his jaw from dropping, and half succeeded. He had assumed she had been constructed within the past year or so. "You've been— a beautiful woman— from before the time there were human women?"

"No, Jack," she said, unsmiling. "I am not human. I have served the Imago in the shape of whatever species the Imago has chosen as host. As have we all. We are long conversant with the Imago, but not with your species."

"But with your fancy building right here on this world near Earth, you must have— I mean, even the minions of the Gaol are human here!"

She paused just an instant. "I think it is essential that your ignorance be swiftly abated, as Abe advised you. But it is apparent that we are not evoking your cooperation. Please advise me of the manner best to approach you, so that you will be receptive."

Jack stared at her. "You really want to know?"

"Yes, Jack."

"Why?"

"Because the Imago is presently in a human host. She is therefore subject to the idiosyncrasies of the human nature. If we learn from you what those are, we shall be better able to work with her."

"Oh, so it's her you care about, not me?"

"Yes, Jack."

Actually they had never pretended otherwise. He was here on sufferance, because Tappy had brought him, and they treated him courteously, by their definitions, because she wanted them to. They were not evil, merely ignorant of the human nuances. Their very mistakes with him demonstrated the truth of that.

Had these been secret agents of the Gaol, they would have approached him in either a more deceptive or more forbidding manner. Malva had alternately enticed and threatened him. It had all been bluff, but it showed the way she worked. These AI had done neither. Well, Candy had offered him sex, but had done it so clumsily that it was obvious that she knew next to nothing about the emotional aspects of it. That wasn't surprising in creatures who had no emotions.

The conviction was growing that the AI were the genuine article, and that he really ought to cooperate with them. But he needed something more.

"You are all in mental contact with each other?" he asked. "When I talk to Abe, it's the same as talking with you, even if you're not there, and vice versa? Whatever I do with you is the same as doing it with him?"

"Yes, Jack."

"So if I had decided to have sex with you, it might as well have been with him?"

"Yes, Jack. He would have formed an orifice—"

"Give me one decisive reason to cooperate with you."

"We exist to forward the purpose of the Imago."

Jack stared at her. "That's it?"

"Yes, Jack."

They remained at cross-purposes. He pondered a moment. "Suppose I said I would cooperate if you ripped off one of your arms and threw it away?"

She put her right hand on her left elbow and made a contortion. The left arm came out of its shoulder socket, dangling tentacular threads. She threw it to the floor.

"That was just a question!" Jack exclaimed, appalled. "I didn't mean it literally!"

"I apologize for misunderstanding, Jack."

He stooped to pick up the arm. It remained warm and soft. No bone projected from the torn end, just a hard plastic surface. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"We do not experience pain."

"But it's a shame to waste such a finely crafted limb! Now you can't use it."

The fingers on it flexed. "I can use it, Jack. It merely lacks anchorage."

He handed her the arm. "Put it back on, then."

She took it by the elbow again and pushed the end into the gaping shoulder socket. The shreds of plastic melted and flowed, sealing over the injury. "It will not be at full strength immediately, but it will serve," she said.

"Okay, I'll cooperate until I find reason not to," he decided. "Not because I know anything about the Imago, but because I care for Tappy."

"Tell me how to avoid antagonizing you, so that you will not find reason not to cooperate with us."

"For one thing, stop this damned condescension!"

"I do not understand, Jack."

"You keep treating me like a feelingless object."

"Yes. Does this disturb you?"

"Yes, it does! And it will disturb Tappy, too. In fact, that could be why she wants me here: because at least I understand her feelings, somewhat."

"But we are feelingless objects ourselves."

"Then how the hell did you manage to serve the Imago in its other hosts? Weren't they all living creatures?"

"We were more conversant with their nuances, and had competent input. They were in the Galactic Registry."

"And my species is not?"

"It will be added, Jack, now that the Imago—"

"Yes, I see. The Imago must have chosen it because it was a primitive backwater species no one would suspect of harboring such a significant entity."

"That is a likely conjecture."

"So you were caught short this time."

"Yes. If you will tell me what I am doing wrong, I will correct it immediately."

"Just like that," he said with irony.

"Yes, Jack."

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You show me around this place and tell me what I need to know, and I'll tell you how not to antagonize me while you're doing it."

"This is what we asked of you at the outset of our association."

"First lesson: never say 'I told you so.' "

They walked through the door-portal, and she showed him around. They talked, and he pointed out the nuances of human interaction as she ran afoul of them, beginning with the ill-fit of her dress. She became both more human and more attractive at a rate that was alarming in its implication.

He looked at the brightness of the outer hall. "What's beyond this?" At her gesture, the white wall-floor became transparent, and they could see outside.

Jack stared. It was a blaze of light from a seemingly infinite number of sources. "Those— those are stars!" he exclaimed. "But so many, so close!"

"We are in a globular cluster of stars, orbiting the galactic center. Because this cluster is outside the plane of the galactic ecliptic, it will be among the last to be drawn into the black hole."

"So you won't have to move and rebuild soon?" he asked, still stunned by the change.

"No, that is of no immediate concern, as is anything beyond a few billion years. But it represents another backward region, of little interest to the Gaol, so they are unlikely to search here soon."

"Backwater species, backwater cluster," he agreed. "It does make sense. But how did we come here? This building was in a cloud on the honkers' world!"

"This is not a building, Jack. It is a mobile city. To fetch the Imago, we rendezvoused intermittently at the designated spot and broadcast our signal. When the Imago came, we ceased the shuttling and settled at the primary location."

"Let me see if I have this straight," he said, staring at the amazing sky. "When Tappy came through the portal to the world of the honkers, you picked her up on your instruments, and sent your city: seven seconds there, seven away. Tappy could tune in on your signal, but so could the Gaol, so it was a race. The Gaol tried to get to the city and destroy it, but couldn't, so they tried to intercept Tappy instead. But the honkers helped her avoid the minions of the Gaol, and to get away from them when they did capture her. It was a close call, even so."

Candy smiled, a thing she had not done before he advised her about things like that. "You have a marvelous understanding of the situation, Jack!"

"Just how far is this from the honker planet? And how far was that from Earth?"

"This is about fifty thousand light-years from the honkers, and that planet is about one thousand light-years from Earth. The planetary portals cannot retain their tuning long, so are normally established for short ranges."

Jack shook his head. "So this is a spaceship, really!"

"I think it does not match your concept. Jack. A ship of space can travel where it chooses. A city must be carefully programmed and routed. This one is able to travel only from here to the realm of the Imago's concealment. Now that it has vacated that world, it will not be feasible to return there; the Gaol will prevent it."

He could appreciate the determination of the Gaol! "So they are searching for us now. Will they follow us here?"

"They can not trace an intermittent phase-state. That is why we used it, and have used it in prior millennia. They will have to spread their net again, narrowing down the possible regions of the galaxy where we might be. Their efficiency has been increasing in recent centuries, and we may have no more than a year to complete the training of the Imago. This is why we require your help."

"A year? How long does training usually take?"

"Seven years— the full term of the ripening of the Chrysalis. Because the Gaol were unusually alert this time, the Chrysalis had to be hidden instead. This makes it difficult."

That was surely an understatement. They had to squeeze seven years into one, and work with a life-form they understood only imperfectly. It would be about as easy to teach a dolphin to speak Greek. But with the help of another dolphin who understood their purpose, and was friendly with the one they had to train, maybe it was possible.

They walked on around the outer wall of the city, gazing out of the floor. The ground came into view, seeming to be like a vertical wall; the gravity inside the city related to the city, not the planet outside. A glassy covering extended over the region surrounding the bright shell, and through it Jack could see what appeared to be exotic foliage.

"Is that a greenhouse?" he asked. "Where you grow the soybeans?"

"Please clarify your reference."

"You're feeding us reconstituted things, or adapted from something you grow. I'm sure it isn't what it appears to be, because this isn't Earth. We do a lot with a plant called the soybean, and maybe other plants, too."

She smiled. "Why, yes, Jack, you are most perceptive." Despite his knowledge that she was following a script which he himself had just revised, he found himself warming to her. He liked being flattered by a beautiful woman.

"Let's go down there."

She shook her head. "No, Jack. That would not be wise."

"Why not? Those plants aren't going to eat me, are they?"

"Not physically. But they are of rather special breeds, capable of adapting rapidly to unusual conditions, such as the light of thousands of suns, and of producing particular nutrients as required. They are responsible for the air you are able to breathe, which is poisonous to most creatures of the galaxy, and they refine your essential fluid, water. We select those aspects of their production which are appropriate. There are other aspects which are not appropriate."

More was falling into place. The planet of the honkers was similar to Earth in its atmosphere and gravity, so human beings had been able to colonize it. How they had come there— well, he could ask, and would surely receive an answer, but he preferred to wait and find out for himself. So the Gaol recruited human minions to serve in that region, and perhaps elsewhere, but humans were no more significant than goldfish in a bowl. Except that this time the Imago had chosen a goldfish as host. What a kettle that was!

"Just what would happen to me if I went among those plants?" he asked.

"Physically you would not suffer; the plants have been attuned to your biology. But your mind and emotion might be affected by their pheromones. We have no direct information, but our references suggest that your perception of reality could be distorted, changing your nature significantly."

Reality is a dream. Jack remembered those sleep-talking words of Tappy's. Did they relate?

He turned away from the scene as if losing interest. "I note you have control of gravity here."

"Yes."

"How is it that you have such high-tech features, yet have to hide from the Gaol?"

"The Gaol are conquerors. We are not. We lack emotions, therefore have no desire for aggrandizement. We exist only to serve the Imago."

"But you are machines! Some living species must have made you. What happened to those folk?"

"I know of no such species."

"You're saying that you robots evolved on your own?"

"I have no knowledge of this."

Jack dropped the subject, but filed it away in his "unfinished" mental compartment.

They continued walking. Then Candy paused as if startled. "Jack, we have learned that the Gaol are quartering the galaxy, and will locate us sooner than we anticipated. We shall have to accelerate our program. Your cooperation is essential, because Tappy knows and trusts you. But we of the AI do not know or trust you well enough to risk the Imago with you. Will you allow us to survey you?"

"You've been risking Tappy with me all along!" Jack exclaimed. "Last night—"

"No. You were monitored. Jack, as you know. Had you sought to bring her to harm of physical, mental, or emotional nature, we would have interdicted it. Now we must allow you greater access to her, for you relate to her in a way we do not."

"I'm human," he said wryly.

"That is true. You also have a relationship with her that has greater leverage than we can muster at the moment. We had hoped to learn the human ways, and relate to her, so as to train her adequately in the time available. But now we must work through you more directly."

"What happens if she isn't properly trained?"

"This much we have learned of your recent culture: you have a weapon called a gun?"

"Yes, we have guns," he said, scowling. "So do the Gaol. If you expect me to use a gun—"

"No. But if one were to place a gun in the hand of a small child—"

"The power of the Imago— it's like that? Dangerous?"

"The analogy is imperfect. But in degree, it is like a gun capable of causing a planet to rupture. I think you can not at present appreciate the actual nature of the power of the Imago. Perhaps gun is not the appropriate term. Perhaps grenade, or detonator—"

"I'm getting the gist. That girl is dangerous."

"Only if her power is improperly used. But with appropriate direction, it means the salvation of galactic culture. It is essential that its proper potential be realized."

"So you want to use me to make Tappy do something. I'm not sure I care to be used."

She turned to him, taking him by the arm, staring into his face. Now she was animated, and startlingly pretty. "Jack, we need you! I beg of you: help us."

How well she had learned! Every inflection was right, every aspect of her facial and bodily expression. Her hair was tumbled back, her bosom was heaving, her eyes were wide—On top of that, he believed her: the AI were now desperate. There was no way he could turn down her plea without feeling like a heel.

"What does this 'survey' entail?"

"We will put you in a chamber and question you. Your responses will be analyzed. By this we shall know whether it is appropriate to place the Imago in your charge."

"My charge! Tappy's a person! She should be free to make her own decisions."

"Tappy is a person," she agreed. "The Imago is not. If I may return to my crude analogy, the Imago is like the gun in her hand. You must tell her how it is to be used. When we are sure that your judgment and motive are suitable."

"So that she won't turn that gun on you?"

"That is not our concern. If the Imago were to desire our destruction, we would destroy ourselves. But we can not allow the Imago to be misdirected."

They had a point. "Okay. Survey me."

"Here." She led the way into the closest step-through panel. Was it coincidence that they were right here, or could any chamber serve? He decided that the chambers were as interchangeable as the AI themselves were.

Then Candy was gone. Jack stood alone in what appeared to be a rocky desert. But the rocks were giant crystals, and the sand was confetti, and the sky was purple. Evidently the AI notion of an Earthly landscape.

Had you your desire, what would it be?

"You mean, apart from Tappy's welfare?" he asked.

Without qualification.

"Well, first I'd see that Tappy was okay. In fact, I'd like to see her cured of everything that ails her. I want her to see again, and be happy—

Do not speak. Imagine.

Imagine? "Maybe I could paint it," he said. "If I had my paints."

Paint.

He pretended he had a brush, palette, and canvas set up on an easel. He touched his brush to blue, and made a sweep to paint the sky blue.

The blue appeared. He moved his hand farther, and the blue spread accordingly. Then he let his hand drop and just pictured it— and abruptly the entire sky was blue instead of purple. "Like a computer painting program!" he exclaimed.

Clarify your reference.

He ran through the mechanism of computer painting in his mind. There was agreement: this was somewhat like that.

Then he really got into it. He painted a picture of Tappy, not as she was now, but as she would be if he had his wish. She stood before him in a green dress with a yellow sash, her hair tied back with a matching yellow ribbon but nevertheless falling to her waist. Her face was without blemish; the scar was gone.

Her eyes focused on him. "Jack, I see you!" she exclaimed. "I'm happy!" She made a pirouette, her skirt flaring, showing her legs to the knees, no brace.

And for yourself?

Jack was at a loss. He discovered that his original ambition of being a successful commercial painter had left him. That would require returning to Earth alone and rejoining its culture. "How can you send them back to the farm, after they've seen Paree?" he asked, repeating an imperfectly remembered quote. He had not seen the best of what the galactic society had to offer; in fact, he had seen mostly pursuit and oddity and ugliness. But behind it lay the amazing technology of the advanced cultures, and now all he wanted to do was know more of it. No, that wasn't all, but somehow he was unable to settle on the rest.

"I don't know," he said.

The chamber became ordinary again. Candy stood where she had been; apparently she had never left. "Thank you, Jack," she said.

He smiled ruefully. "I guess I washed out on that one! My mind just went blank."

"No, Jack, you provided us with the information we required. We now trust you."

"But you didn't learn anything about me! I couldn't answer the simplest question about the nature of my ambition."

"You have no selfish motive."

"Sure I have selfish motives! I just wasn't able to define them. I mean, there's so much here that I want to learn about, only I have no way, and I know I don't belong here, but I don't want to go back— what a mess!"

"Jack, if I had emotion, I believe I would like you." She took him by the elbow, guiding him from the chamber.

It opened immediately on the larger room where he had eaten with Tappy, but she was no longer there. He was suddenly nervous. "Tappy— where is she? You haven't isolated her while you were distracting me, have you? I tell you, all bets are off, if—"

"She will join you in a moment," Candy said. "Now we have important material to impart. Which of us would you prefer to do this?"

"All of you!" he snapped. "Something's up; I know it. If you want my cooperation, bring Tappy here now."

The other AI appeared, stepping together through the opaque panels around the room. Their clothing now fit perfectly. One man was unfamiliar; that would be Cole. "In a moment," they said in unison. "First we must acquaint you with the situation."

"Oh, for God's sake! I didn't mean it literally! Abe, you be the spokesman. The rest of you just settle back and twiddle your thumbs or something. What's going on?"

Abe stepped forward. The other five stepped back, putting their thumbs together. Jack's annoyed glance stopped that: they were coming to understand about non-literal.

"The Gaol will isolate this retreat in as little as three days," Abe said.

"Three days! Candy said the Gaol were coming sooner than you expected, but three days? How did that happen?"

"We surmise that they located this site in the globular cluster during a prior quest for the Imago, several centuries ago, and retained awareness of it. There are a limited number of suitable planets in such clusters. In this manner they are able to check potential locations much more rapidly than is possible in a routine quartering. This puts us in an extreme situation."

"Extreme isn't exactly the word! You need seven years, you were going to cram it in in one year, and now three days? I don't know much about how you operate, but that seems pretty chancy to me."

"You have understated the case," Abe said.

"Sometimes I do that, too. Or do you mean there is more I don't know?"

"Yes. We have treated Tappy in the manner you desired, with her acquiescence, but without complete success."

Jack felt an ugly thrill of apprehension. "All I said was to null that mental block that stops her from speaking English! You mean she can only speak some words?" He knew it was more than that.

"We also eliminated her physical deformities," Abe said. "She now has no weakness of limb, and should be able to see normally."

"You cured her blindness?" This was more than he had hoped for.

"It is your desire," Abe said. "You wish her to see and speak and dance. When we made her aware of that, she acquiesced, and we proceeded."

"My survey! You told her what I imagined?"

"She wished to know. She had supposed that you might prefer her unchanged. Learning otherwise, she chose to change."

"Of course I want her to see!" Jack said. "I want everything that is best for her. But I didn't know it could be done. What's this about your not succeeding? What happened to her?"

"We eliminated her physical defects. But this does not appear to be sufficient. She can see and speak, but she does not. We suspect that despite her acquiescence to your will, she lacks motivation to do these things."

Jack thought about that. There had been a hint back on Earth that Tappy might be able to do more, but didn't try. He could understand that; her case had been hopeless. But she had come alive with him, in more than one sense. Now she should be eager to see everything, and to talk about it. What was holding her back?

"Once the Imago is ready," Jack said slowly, "what then? I mean, what does Tappy do?"

"She will serve the Imago implicitly, as do we."

"Will she have any time to herself? Any social life? Will she get to read any books, or splash in the ocean, or sleep an hour late?"

"Such things are meaningless to the Imago."

"Well, then, I think I have a glimmering of what you don't. I can see why she might hesitate just to step into this role."

"Please explain this to us."

"Tappy wants to live!" he exclaimed. "She's not a robot! She's had so little joy of life, and now maybe she has a chance— and she'll have to throw it all away and get into harness as the Imago. No chance at all to be a child or a girl, just to change from one kind of freak to another. No wonder she's afraid to move ahead!"

"It is true that we do not understand the urges of human life," Abe said. "Either in their acceptance or their denial." He glanced at Candy, and Jack realized that none of them understood why he had not simply made sexual use of the woman when she suggested it. Maybe other galactic creatures had no hang-ups about that sort of thing. "However, the Imago may do as she desires. Nothing is denied her. She may splash in water or gaze at a text if she wishes."

"But she won't want to, you said."

"Past manifestations of the Imago have not had incidental interests of the flesh."

"Because you had seven years to train them," Jack said. "There was no place for such things in your curriculum."

"True. What is your point?"

Jack took a deep breath. "You are right. I really do understand Tappy in a way that you don't."

"Therefore it may be possible to make the Imago functional in the current host, with your help, despite the extreme brevity of training. This is what we ask of you."

"You want me to talk Tappy into seeing and talking, so you know she is 'functional,' so she can step right into harness now as the Imago."

"Yes. And thereafter, you must serve as her immediate adviser, so that she does not misuse the power of the Imago."

"And you don't care how I do it. I can talk to her, have sex with her, anything, just so long as she snaps to."

"Yes."

"And you will be advising me what to advise her, so that my own ignorance doesn't mess things up."

"True."

"How do you know I will do what you advise?"

"That was ascertained in the survey."

Jack was gaining respect for that survey. It hadn't seemed like much, but obviously they had fathomed his motives. If he agreed to the deal, he would honor it.

"And why do you figure she'll do what I tell her to?"

"Because she loves you. This is a phenomenon we understand no better than we do the source of the power of the Imago, but we have seen its effect. She is immediately responsive to your will."

"But I don't love her!"

"Therefore you are objective. This is appropriate."

Jack ground his teeth. "Why don't you take a flying fuck at the nearest sun?"

"This is a rhetorical question?"

"This is a nonrhetorical no. I won't do that to Tappy."

Abe paused only that fraction of a second that passed for machine confusion. "Why?"

"Because it isn't fair to Tappy. She may be the host for the Imago, but she deserves some joy of life, and I refuse to be the one who denies that to her. Especially I refuse to toy further with her emotions. She never did deserve that."

"It is concern for her larger welfare that motivates you?"

"Yes. Want to verify it in your survey chamber?"

"No. We accept this. But we must remind you that Tappy's alternatives and ours are limited. We believe that the course we ask of you is best in the circumstance."

"Maybe you'd better spell out those alternatives for me."

"The first we have described: you will work with her, under our guidance, in this manner circumventing the training we are unable to provide."

"Got it."

"The second is to delay until the Gaol arrive and capture her. The seven of us will then be destroyed, and Tappy will be cocooned for the duration of her human life, allowed neither freedom nor death."

"God, no! I heard about that. No way."

"The third is the easiest and perhaps best, but we suspect you will object to it also."

"Maybe. Let's have it." He figured he had them on the run now.

"To destroy the host immediately, freeing the Imago for a future host who may have better prospects."

Then Jack knew he had lost his ploy. Of course that made sense! They served the Imago, not the host. They did have an easy way out. But it was impossible for him. Tappy had to live!

"You win. I will cooperate in the first course."

"We thought you would. However, your reactions have been irregular."

"But I have a condition."

"Is this something that will facilitate your effort?"

"I think so. You have told me the bleak alternatives. Now I'm telling you that you can't treat Tappy like a machine. You want me to make her do things which she fears will make her independent of me. That's the one kind of thing she won't do for me: help me get rid of her. Not if she knows what she's doing."

"We do not follow your logic."

"You don't have to. Just take my word for it. If I have to do your dirt, it has to be my way."

"What is your way?"

"Put us in your greenhouse."

Again that pause. "If this is not effective, we shall have to destroy both of you before the Gaol arrive."

They were machines. They did not bluff. He was putting his life on the line, and Tappy's. "Just don't jump the gun, okay?"

"You are asking us not to act prematurely?"

"Yes."

"Then we shall do it your way. When she is able to see you and talk to you, you must emerge from the garden. Then we will know that the two of you are ready.

Jack nerved himself, and gave himself no time to waver "Then get on with it. Where's Tappy?"

The room widened. There stood Tappy, in the green dress and yellow sash he had imagined during the survey, with the matching ribbon She was unscarred, and her feet were in yellow slippers, without trace of any leg brace. Her body seemed to have filled out somewhat, though that could have been the enhancement of the dress There was an intangible glow about her, which could have been the animation of the strengthening Imago, or of the love they said she felt for him, Jack. She was, to his eyes, at once young and vulnerable and in need of protection and absolutely beautiful in her own right.

Then he saw that she held a book in her hand. That would be The Little Prince. He felt like laughing and crying, without being quite sure why.

"Tappy," he said

She turned toward the sound of his voice, smiling. In her face was sheer adoration. But that was not what shocked him

It was that both he and the AI had seriously misjudged the situation in one vital respect. There was no chance of his deceiving or betraying Tappy. He would never do that. It was that his objectivity, which they depended on, was threatened.

He was in the process of falling in love with her.

Then the chamber faded, and strange vegetation appeared around them. They were in the garden.