Robot Adept

by Piers Anthony

  “Like the Unilympics?” she asked.

  “The what?”

  “A big contest for status. Each species has its own: the Werelympics, the Vamplympics, the Elflympics—”

  “Maybe so.” He frowned. “But the Citizens are liable to locate you in two days. That leaves a gap of three. Also, you are unqualified for the Tourney. Theoretically you would have those three days to qualify; if you fail, or if the Citizens capture you in that period, all will be lost.”

  She realized that Agape, with her lively intellect and special powers of adaptation, might have found a way to qualify. Fleta, in Agape’s body, would hardly have a chance. This unexpected exchange of the two females could prove to be extremely costly!

  Still, now they knew the challenge: get her through to the Tourney, and get her qualified. If they accomplished that, she would be shipped to the completely alien Planet Moeba.

  And what would she do there? She had only vague knowledge of Proton, and none of Moeba. Even success was disaster!

  Mach pondered, and told her that he would have to modify the plan in one detail. He would have to get Fleta exchanged back to Phaze before she was exiled to Moeba. That meant he had to locate Bane, and intercept him, and catch him in the company of Agape, and bring Fleta in for another exchange. He was sure, the girls could not exchange unless the effort was made in the company of the boys. It seemed an almost impossible act of juggling, considering the pursuit by the Contrary Citizens and the demands of the Tourney, but somehow he had to manage it. Because however he might be constrained to act personally, Fleta was the creature he loved, and he could not allow her to suffer exile to a completely alien world, with no prospect of return to her homeland.

  “Aye,” she whispered, loving his determination though she hated the threat that hung over her.

  “I have accepted sanctuary with the Adverse Adepts, in Phaze, for the sake of our love. If I had no other way, I would seek similar sanctuary with the Contrary Citizens. But integrity requires that I make every other effort first, before giving the Citizens the complete victory they seek.”

  “Aye,” she agreed again. Now at last she could relax.

  Except for another problem: food. This was morning, and her body was hungry. Fleta had no idea how to operate the food dispenser, and no idea how to make Agape’s body eat. Mach could operate the food machine, but when she took food into her mouth, she discovered that she had no mechanism for swallowing; indeed, she had no throat. The body possessed a bellows mechanism for the inhalation and exhalation of air, for which the amoebic body had a need similar to that of the human body. Thus her chest rose and fell naturally, and she could speak normally. But that was all; she had no internal digestive system.

  “She dissolves herself and covers the food,” Mach explained somewhat lamely. “When she’s done, she reforms her head and face.”

  “Yuck,” Fleta said.

  “Maybe you could dissolve the inside of your mouth, so you could digest a bite of food there, and then reform tongue and teeth afterward.”

  “If I can’t see it, I doubt I can get it right,” she said. “I had better stick to what I have.”

  “Maybe your feet, then. Dissolve them over the food, where no one else can see, and take your time.”

  She tried that. He brought a bowl of mush, and she sat at the desk and put her feet on the mush. Soon they melted into shapelessness, and spread over the mush. Her flesh seemed to know what to do; she felt the effort of digestion and assimilation, and then the vigor of new energy traveling through her body. It was working!

  When the mush was gone, she concentrated on reforming her feet, shaping them back into humanoid extremities. She had a fair idea how to do this, because of her practice in learning the human form as a unicorn. In due course her feet had been restored, and it was even possible to walk on them again. It seemed that Agape’s body had a design for bones and flesh, or the equivalent, and this was what she was drawing on.

  That problem had been solved. Now she should be able to function. She sat at the desk and began her day’s work.

  They were fortunate: no one came to the office that day, and there were no calls. Mach was able to brief her on many further details, so that she was beginning to feel halfway competent. It was true: an idiot—or a unicorn—could fill this position. She also developed better facility in eating, and learned how to eliminate by forming a ball of wastes inside, then softening her flesh to let it pass outside at the appropriate time and location.

  But the effort had wearied her. By day’s end, she was eager to sleep.

  She lay down to sleep. But as soon as she relaxed, she started to melt. Alarmed, she reformed herself and approached Mach. “I’m melting! I can’t sleep—I might dissolve away!”

  He smiled reassuringly. “That’s why there is no camera coverage in that chamber; the machines saw to it that Bane and Agape were sent to an office that did not yet have full equipment. Agape is an amoeba; her natural form is a blob of protoplasm. Only when she is awake can she maintain humanoid form. Do not be concerned; you can reform when you wake.”

  “But I be not sure I can find this exact shape again!” she wailed.

  “I think the body has memory devices that enable it to return to prior forms, just as you have them for your unicorn forms. I will inform you of any deviance.”

  “But what if I melt into the bed?”

  “I don’t believe that will happen. Your surface retains its skin, which contains the fluids. Also, I suspect that the amoeboid form does not relinquish consciousness completely; it probably shores up its surface at need, to prevent seepage. Human beings perform similarly in sleep, not falling off beds and not releasing urine during sleep. Maintenance circuitry.”

  Moderately reassured, she returned to the bed and let herself dissolve. Sure enough, she neither flowed off the bed nor released fluids into it as she slept. She woke after a few hours, refreshed.

  Next day the worst happened: Tania stopped by the office. She was a buxom woman of about twenty-one, her somewhat plain face enhanced by an artful framing of luxurious hair. She was technically a serf, so was naked, but she carried herself as if clothed.

  Mach stood absolutely still, a machine out of action, in an alcove in the wall. Fleta was at the desk, where she belonged; it was her duty to handle whatever tasks were required, such as providing information about the location of her employer, Citizen Tan. Fleta was of course aware of Tania’s identity; the woman had given it for admission to the office, and she matched her picture.

  Tania eyed Fleta. Her eyes possessed a peculiar intensity; obviously in Phaze that would manifest as the evil eye. “Any news?” she asked curtly.

  “No, Tania,” Fleta said, as Mach had told her.

  The woman eyed her. Her eyes were the color of her hair and nails: tan. “Android, you will address me as Tan.”

  “Yes, Tan,” Fleta said obediently. Mach had warned her that this woman might be imperious, and that though she could not, be addressed as “sir” she probably wished she could be. She knew from her own knowledge of Adepts in Phaze that the utmost caution was in order.

  “Stand, android,” Tania snapped. “Come in front of the desk where I can see you.”

  Fleta stood and went around to the front. Serfs were not supposed to answer Citizens unless an answer was called for, and Tania was to be treated like a Citizen.

  “Turn around.”

  Fleta turned, while the woman’s eyes probed her body. “You aren’t very intelligent,” Tania remarked.

  Fleta was tempted to reply that most animals weren’t, but stifled it. Mach had explained that she was passing for an android, and that few androids approached the human level of mental performance.

  “What is the nature of ultimate reality?” Tania asked.

  Fleta stared at her, needing no effort to feign confusion. She smiled and looked blank in the approved manner. “Should I ask the screen, Tan?” she asked at last.

  “Don’t bother, androi
d.” Tania glanced around the office. “Robot, come forth,” she commanded.

  Mach stepped out from his alcove, silently. She eyed him as she had Fleta.

  “Have you kept this office clean?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Did you hear me tell the android to call me Tan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well?”

  Mach didn’t answer. Fleta had to suppress a giggle; he was playing dumb. Tania had not asked a comprehensible question, so he hadn’t answered.

  “Address me as Tan,” she said coldly. “Is that a functional penis?”

  “In what manner, Tan?”

  “Sexual.”

  “Yes, Tan.”

  “What’s it doing on a menial?”

  “Whatever my employer directs, Tan.”

  “Android,” Tania snapped without turning. “Put in for a replacement menial robot. This one’s too smart.”

  Oops, trouble! If they replaced Mach, how would she get by? But she had no choice. She returned to the desk, sat, and addressed the screen. “Requisition replacement menial rovot for Citizen Tan, this office,” she said, perversely pleased that she had managed the strange formula without hesitation.

  “Requisition entered,” the screen replied. “Allow forty-eight hours for delivery.”

  Tania was already on the way out. In a moment they were alone again.

  Mach said nothing. He simply marched back to his alcove and resumed his inert stance. By that signal Fleta knew that it was not safe to talk. He knew when they could be overheard; she depended on his judgment.

  She had passed Tania’s inspection, but Mach had not! What an irony! Then she had to stifle another giggle: irony for a metal man! But she was not happy.

  But as she pondered the matter further, she realized that the Contrary Citizens were closing in, and so there would be trouble within two days anyway. This might make no difference. They would have to get away from here before Mach’s replacement came.

  She finished out the day, answering the occasional incoming calls in the routine manner: Yes, this was Citizen Tan’s office. No, the Citizen was not available at the moment. Yes, she would enter a message for the Citizen, and he would return the call if he wished to. When she was hungry, she ordered Mach to fetch her food from the food machine. As an android she ranked the robot, and naturally used every bit of what little authority she possessed. This nicely concealed the fact that she still had no idea how to use the food machine. Mach had set that up, too. She wished she could hug him. Instead she set some food on the desk, and took a careful bite, so as to seem to be eating normally; the rest she put on the floor, so she could melt her feet over it.

  Proton was a dreary frame! No wonder Mach liked Phaze better!

  In the evening, when the office officially shut down for the shift, Mach came out. He checked to be sure they were not being spied on, then opened his arms. She hurled herself gratefully into them. “Methinks the boredom be the worstest torture o’ all!” she whispered.

  “You did well,” he murmured. “I only hope Tania didn’t notice your one slip.”

  She felt a chill. “Slip?”

  “You referred to me as a ‘rovot.’ The screen has an interpretation circuit, so passed it through because of the context; you were merely echoing her command, which it had heard. But if she noticed—”

  “Ro-bot,” she said. “Ro-bot, ro-bot. I can say it if I try. But is that an error Agee would make?”

  “No. Since there should be no suspicion that you are here, instead of Agee, and that is not typical of her speech, it should pass unnoticed. Actually, you passed the real test: Tania knew that if you had any emotional attachment to me, you would have had trouble putting through that requisition. You showed no hesitation.”

  “I dared not hesitate,” she said. “But oh, Mach—”

  “This may have been a routine verification,” he said. “But the Citizens are looking for us, and we were assigned within the key period. It could have been a preliminary to the pounce.”

  “The pounce?”

  “If you were looking desperately for a person, and suspected that that person was already in your power, would you alert that person?”

  “Nay.”

  “The threat to replace me could even be a diversion. They want me with them, not away from them. But you are the real target; if they have you, they have me. You must be the one to escape. I must show you how to incapacitate a human being, and how to melt and reform.”

  They worked on it. He pointed out the vulnerable places on the human body, male and female: the spots that could be pressured to bring pain or unconsciousness or death. “If I give the word, you do that to whoever bars your way,” he Said. “Then get to this waste chute and melt into it as fast as you can.”

  They drilled on melting, until she could do it with fair swiftness. She practiced moving in the melted state: flowing like goo across the floor, then reforming into something that could climb. “The self-willed machines will help you at the other end, but you have to get through that screen yourself,” he said. “Remember: wait for my signal, then act without question when I give it. Have no concern about me; I am not threatened. Trust the machines. Their forms vary widely, but they are with me. I am a self-willed machine.”

  “Aye,” she agreed, frightened.

  Next day Citizen Tan himself stopped by, in the voluminous tan cloak or robe that identified him as a Citizen: a member of the only class privileged to wear clothing in Proton. He was the same age as his sister—they were twins—and similar of feature, especially in the eyes. Their tan irises and intensity were eerie. Fleta was afraid of him. Did he suspect her nature, either as Agape or as Fleta? If so, they were lost!

  The Citizen asked a number of routine questions. He seemed gentler than his sister, but there was a sureness about his manner that continued to strike alarm in her. What was he up to?

  Then, abruptly, she found out. He reached out to catch and squeeze one of her breasts. “Android, I like your look,” he said. “Enter the sleeping chamber with me.”

  She followed him into the chamber where the bed was.

  “Lie supine, spread your legs,” he said, as he opened his robe. Then, to Mach in the other room: “Robot! Come here and take my robe.”

  Mach entered the room and took the robe. He stepped back, watching the proceedings, showing no expression.

  Serfs had no rights with respect to Citizens; she had known that as a bit of otherframe folklore all her life. Just as animals had none with respect to Adepts. Power made the only law. But how could she tolerate this? He was going to use her sexually!

  If she protested, she would give herself away. If she did not, what would Mach—or Bane—do?

  But Mach had told her to wait for his signal before acting. She had to rely on his judgment. She lay down on her back and spread her legs.

  It was another irony, she thought, that the sexual act as human beings performed it had no inherent meaning for either her or Agape. She normally would indulge in it only when in heat, for the sole purpose of breeding; only her association with Mach had educated her to the joys of sex as an act of entertainment or of love. Agape, with her completely alien body, would neither breed nor entertain herself in this manner; she surely did it only to please Bane. But now it was a matter of principle: this act should be done only with the one she loved. That, too, was the human way.

  Naked, Tan sat beside her, running his hands along her body and up between her legs. “If you like it, I will make you a household serf,” he said. “Your body has a certain distinction from that of other androids. I am not sure exactly what it is. That is what intrigues me about you. Would you like to be a household serf?” This was a direct question, and required an answer.

  “No, sir,” she said.

  A tan eyebrow elevated in supposed surprise. “Why not? It is an exceptionally easy life, for an android.”

  “I am not that kind of android.”

  Now his gaze becam
e so intense that she was sure; he had penetrated her disguise. “Exactly what kind of android are you, Agee?”

  She had no answer she could give to that without giving herself away, so she did not answer.

  “Well, let’s give you more experience on which to base your attitude,” Citizen Tan said. He climbed onto the bed, on hands and knees, his body above hers. “Now you will, regardless of whatever personal reactions you may or may not have, smile and emulate delight as I proceed.” He lowered himself.

  Mach stepped forward, starting to speak. He froze.

  “Ah yes, the robot,” Citizen Tan said. “Tried to act on its own, and got zapped by the shorting field I just turned on. So it’s self-willed, and quite possibly the one we seek.” He glanced down at Fleta. “But are you the female we seek? If so, this will be a special pleasure for me. I have never before indulged with an alien creature.” He resumed his positioning, about to proceed with the act.

  Fleta decided that Mach must have been about to give the signal, before the field enchanted his body. That meant it was time for her to act.

  She melted the flesh of her central region. In fact, she had started to do this before consciously making her decision, for the process was well along now. The Citizen’s probing member encountered only mush.

  Then that mush rose up and gripped adjacent and very vulnerable flesh.

  Tan opened his mouth to scream, as that grip closed. But Fleta slapped a hand across his mouth, and melted it to cover the lower part of his face. “An thou dost say anything, Adept, then will I squeeze, hard,” she whispered, and gave him a small sample. This was a pretty good body, for special effects!

  Tan’s eyes glazed with pain. Fleta continued to melt. “Lie down, roll over,” she said.

  He dropped on her and rolled over, carrying her around so that she was now on top of him. As she melted, her flesh spread across and around him. Only her head remained humanoid. “Turn off thy magic field.”

  When he hesitated, she began to squeeze again.

  “I’m free,” Mach said. “We’re off-camera here, but those in the front chamber remain operational, and you must pass through that. Form into his robe and make him take you there.”