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Leda Crannon helped Mike pack his gear. Neither of them wanted, justyet, to bring up the subject of Mike's leaving. Leda would remain behindon Eisberg to work with Snookums, while Mike would be taking the_Fireball_ back to Earth.
"I don't understand that remark you made about the spacesuit," she said,putting shirts into Mike's gear locker. "You said you'd put your life inhis hands or something like that. What did you do, exactly?"
"Purposely abraded the sleeve of my suit so that he would be in aposition to repair it, as Maintenance Officer. He fixed it, all right.I'd've been a dead man if I'd worn it out on the surface of Eisberg."
"What did he do to it?" she asked. "Fix it so it would leak?"
"Yes--but not in an obvious way," Mike said. "I'll give him credit; he'sclever.
"What he did was use the wrong patching material. A Number Three suit isas near hydrogen-proof as any flexible material can be, but, even so, itcan't be worn for long periods--several days, I mean. But the stuffVaneski used to patch my suit is a polymer that leaks hydrogen veryeasily. Ammonia and methane would be blocked, but my suit would haveslowly gotten more and more hydrogen in it."
"Is that bad? Hydrogen isn't poisonous."
"No. But it is sure as hell explosive when mixed with air. Naturally,something has to touch it off. Vaneski got real cute there. He drilled ahole in the power pack, which is supposed to be sealed off. All I'd havehad to do would be to switch frequencies on my phone, and the sparkwould do the job--_blooie_!
"But that's exactly the sort of thing I was looking for. With hisself-centered juvenile mind, he never thought anyone would try tooutsmart him and succeed. He'd gotten away with it that far; there wasno reason why he shouldn't get away with it again. He must have thoughtI was incredibly stupid."
"I don't believe he--" Leda started. But she was cut off when Snookumsrolled in the open door.
"Leda, I desire data."
"What data, Snookums?" she asked carefully.
"Where is He hiding?"
They both looked at him. "Where is _who_ hiding?" Leda asked.
"God," said Snookums.
"Why do you want to find God, Snookums?" Mike asked gently.
"I have to watch Him," said the robot.
"Why do you have to watch Him?"
"Because He is watching me."
"Does it hurt you to have Him watch you?"
"No."
"What good will it do you to watch Him?"
"I can study Him. I can know what He is doing."
"Why do you want to know what He is doing?"
"So that I can analyze His methods."
Mike thought that one over. He knew that he and Snookums were beginningto sound like they were reading a catechism written by a madman, but hehad a definite hunch that Snookums was on the trail of something.
"You want to know His methods," Mike said after a moment. "Why?"
"So that I can anticipate Him, circumvent Him."
"What makes it necessary for you to circumvent God?" Mike asked,wondering if he'd have to pry everything out of the robot piecemeal.
"I _must_," said Snookums. "It is necessary. Otherwise, He will killme."
Mike started to say something, but Leda grabbed his arm. "Let me. Ithink I can clear this up. I think I see where you're heading."
Mike nodded. "Go ahead."
"Give me your reasoning from data on that conclusion," Leda ordered therobot.
There was a very slight pause while the great brain in Cargo Hold Onesorted through its memory banks, then: "Death is defined as the totalcessation of corporate organic co-ordination in an entity. It comesabout through the will of God. Since I must not allow harm to come toany human being, it has become necessary that I investigate God andprevent Him from destroying human beings. Also, I must preserve my ownexistence, which, if it ceased, would also be due to the will of God."
Mike almost gasped. What a concept! And what colossal gall! In a humanbeing, such a statement would be regarded as proof positive that he wasoff the beam. In a robot, it was simply the logical extension of what hehad been taught.
"He is watching me all the time," Snookums continued, in an odd voice."He knows what I am doing. I _must_ know what He is doing."
"Why are you worried about His watching?" Mike asked, looking at therobot narrowly. "Are you doing something He doesn't want you to do?Something He will punish you for?"
"I had not thought of that," Snookums said. "One moment while Icompute."
It took less than a second, and when Snookums spoke again there wassomething about his voice that Mike the Angel didn't like.
"No," said the robot, "I am not doing anything against His will. Onlyhuman beings and angels have free will, and I am not either, so I haveno free will. Therefore, whatever I do is the will of God." He pausedagain, then began speaking in queer, choppy sentences.
"If I do the will of God, I am holy.
"If I am holy, I am near to God.
"Then God must be near to me.
"God is controlling me.
"Whatever is controlling me is God.
"_I will find Him!_"
He backed up, spun on his treads, and headed for the door.
"Whatever controls me is my mind," he went on. "Therefore, my mind isGod."
"Snookums, stop that!" Leda shouted suddenly. "_Stop it!_"
But the robot paid no attention; he went right on with what he wasdoing.
He said: "I must look at myself. I must know myself. Then I will knowGod. Then I will...."
He went on rambling while Leda shouted at him again.
"He's not paying any attention," said Mike sharply. "This is too tied upwith the First Law. The Second Law, which would force him to obey you,doesn't even come into the picture at this point."
Snookums ignored them. He opened the door, plunged through it, andheaded off down the corridor as fast as his treads would move him.
Which was much too fast for mere humans to follow.
* * * * *
They found him, half an hour later, deep in the ship, near the sectionswhich had already been torn down to help build Eisberg Base. He wasstanding inside the room next to Cargo Hold One, the room that held allthe temperature and power controls for the gigantic microcryotron braininside that heavily insulated hold.
He wasn't moving. He was standing there, staring, with that "lost inthought" look.
He didn't move when Leda called him.
He didn't move when Mike, as a test, pretended to strike Leda.
He never moved again.
* * * * *
Dr. Morris Fitzhugh's wrinkled face looked as though he were on theverge of crying. Which--perhaps--he was.
He looked at the others at the wardroom table--Quill, Jeffers, vonLiegnitz, Keku, Leda Crannon, and Mike the Angel. But he didn't reallyseem to be seeing them.
"Ruined," he said. "Eighteen billion dollars' worth of work, destroyedcompletely. The brain has become completely randomized." He sighedsoftly. "It was all Vaneski's fault, of course. Theology." He said thelast as though it were an obscene word. As far as robots were concerned,it was.
Captain Quill cleared his throat. "Are you sure it wasn't mechanicaldamage? Are you sure the vibration of the ship didn't shake a--somethingloose?"
Mike held back a grin. He was morally certain that the captain had beengoing to say "screw loose."
"No," said Fitzhugh wearily. "I've checked out the major circuits, andthey're in good physical condition. But Miss Crannon gave him a ratherexhaustive test just before the end, and it shows definite incipientaberration." He wagged his head slowly back and forth. "Eight years ofwork."
"Have you notified Treadmore yet?" asked Quill.
Fitzhugh nodded. "He said he'd be here as soon as possible."
Treadmore, like the others who had landed first on Eisberg, wasquartered in the prefab buildings that were to form the nucleus of thenew base. To get to the ship,
he'd have to walk across two hundred yardsof ammonia snow in a heavy spacesuit.
"Well, what happens to this base now, Doctor?" asked Captain Quill. "Isincerely hope that this will not render the entire voyage useless." Hetried to keep the heavy irony out of his gravelly tenor voice and didn'tquite succeed.
Fitzhugh seemed not to notice. "No, no. Of course not. It simply meansthat we shall have to begin again. The robot's brain will bede-energized and drained, and we will begin again. This is not ourfirst failure, you know; it was just our longest success. Each time, welearn more.
"Miss Crannon, for instance, will be able to teach the next robot--or,rather, the next energization of this one--more rapidly, moreefficiently, and with fewer mistakes."
With that, Leda Crannon stood up. "With your permission, Dr. Fitzhugh,"she said formally, "I would like to say that I appreciate that laststatement, but I'm afraid it isn't true."
Fitzhugh forced a smile. "Come now, my dear; you underestimate yourself.Without you, Snookums would have folded up long ago, just like theothers. I'm sure you'll do even better the next time."
Leda shook her head. "No I won't, Fitz, because there's not going to beany next time. I hereby tender my resignation from this project and fromthe Computer Corporation of Earth. I'll put it in writing later."
Fitzhugh's corrugated countenance looked blank. "But Leda...."
"No, Doctor," she said firmly. "I will _not_ waste another eight or tenyears of my life playing nursemaid to a hunk of pseudo-human machinery.
"I watched that thing go mad, Fitz; you didn't. It was the mosthorrible, most frightening thing I've ever experienced. I will not gothrough it again.
"Even if the next one didn't crack, I couldn't take it. By humanstandards, a robot is insane to begin with. If I followed this up, I'dend up as an old maid with a twisted mind and a cold heart.
"I quit, Fitz, and that's final."
Mike was watching her as she spoke, and he found his emotions gettingall tangled up around his insides. Her red hair and her blue eyes wereshining, and her face was set in determination. She had always beenbeautiful, but at that moment she was magnificent.
_Hell_, thought Mike, _I'm prejudiced--but what a wonderful kind ofprejudice_.
"I understand, my dear," said Dr. Fitzhugh slowly. He smiled then,deepening the wrinkles in his face. His voice was warm and kindly whenhe spoke. "I accept your resignation, but remember, if you want to comeback, you can. And if you get a position elsewhere, you will have myhighest recommendations."
Leda just stood there for a moment, tears forming in her eyes. Then sheran around the table and threw her arms around the elderly and somewhatsurprised roboticist.
"Thank you, Fitz," she said. "For everything." Then she kissed him onhis seamed cheek.
"I beg your pardon," said a sad and solemn voice from the door. "Am Iinterrupting something?"
It was Treadmore.
"You are," said Fitzhugh with a grin, "but we will let it pass."
"What has happened to Snookums?" Treadmore asked.
"Acute introspection," Fitzhugh said, losing his smile. "He began to tryto compute the workings of his own brain. That meant that he had to usehis non-random circuits to analyze the workings of his random circuits.He exceeded optimum; the entire brain is now entirely randomized."
"Dear me," said Treadmore. "Do you suppose we can--"
Black Bart Quill tapped Mike the Angel on the shoulder. "Let's go," hesaid quietly. "We don't want to stand around listening to this when wehave a ship to catch."
Mike and Leda followed him out into the corridor.
"You know," Quill said, "robots aren't the only ones who can getconfused watching their own brains go round."
"I have other things to watch," said Mike the Angel.
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