Robot Adept

by Piers Anthony

Suddenly he was standing in Phaze. Mach was standing beside him, and there was a little collection of chairs in which Fleta, Agape, Trool, the Translucent Adept and the Brown Adept sat. Before them was a shimmering curtain concealing the setting of the game, reminiscent of the historical curtain between the frames.

  Trool rose and walked to them. “Thou knowest the nature o’ this contest?” he asked Bane.

  “Aye, Adept,” Bane said. “But not the nature o’ this dream!”

  “It be no dream, Bane,” the troll assured him. “Only thy presence here be a vision and that o’ thine alien friend; all else be real. Do thou play the game to win.”

  “Aye, Adept.” The Oracle had told him it would seem realistic, and it was! It seemed that his body was overlapping Mach’s, but his awareness was being projected to the representation of his body here. Thus he saw everything that Mach saw, here in Phaze—without actually being here. He was actually in the Game Computer’s mock-up of the scene, and the mock-up was based on the actual scene of Phaze. Technology was emulating magic.

  “Thou knowest the nature o’ this contest?” Trool asked Mach.

  “Yes, Adept.” Mach was in Bane’s body, so looked like Bane. Bane glanced down at himself: it was the robot body.

  “The machine in Proton-frame has made Bane the Predator, this time,” Trool continued. “Mach be the Prey. An the Prey lap the course three times, he be victor; an the Predator catch him first, the Predator be the victor. The Prey be given a five-second start. Ready, players?”

  “Aye.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then begin.”

  Mach stepped forward, into the setting. He disappeared.

  Bane glanced at Agape. It was incongruous to see her here in Phaze in her own form, but of course with magic any vision could be Grafted. He waved to her, and she waved back. He wondered whether Agape and Beta were talking together, and if so, what they were saying.

  “Go, Bane,” Translucent snapped.

  Bane stepped through the curtain.

  He found himself on four feet, in a solid, striped body. He was a tiger! His passage through the curtain had triggered the first of the transformations, rendering him into the predator animal.

  The setting was an irregular landscape with projecting rocks and descending gullies. There were a number of trees; in fact, parts were as solid as a jungle. This would be a good region to hide and pounce—but he knew he could not afford that. He had to run down the prey, lest it lap the course before he catch it.

  He sniffed the air. He smelled mongoose. That would be the Prey form, for the moment. As a tiger, he could readily kill it; the problem was running it down. On an open plain, in real life, that would be simple, but this terrain offered many hiding and dodging places; it would be hard to catch it here.

  In fact, that five-second head start made the task of location a problem, let alone the task of catching. The mongoose could be through this region and into the next medium, while the tiger was still trying to sniff out the trail.

  So he played it smart. He bounded directly across, going for the lake he saw in the distance ahead. If he could get there first, and cut off the mongoose—

  But as he ran, bounding along the highest ground, he peered into the low regions, noting which ones offered the best protection and clearest access for a mongoose. This was a vital part of the game; what he overlooked could cost him the victory.

  He had almost reached the water when he heard a splash. The mongoose had raced right through to the next medium!

  Bane charged for the lake, trying to catch up a little. In this game, the traveling velocities of the creatures were identical, whatever they might be in life. The Predator gained only by cutting corners or by taking advantage of opportunities like this, when he knew the location of the Prey. This slight advantage of the Predator was unlikely to make up for the five-second delay of the start, in the course of any one medium, but would inevitably close the gap a little each time. All he needed to do was to make no error, and the Prey would be his.

  He did not step into the water, he leaped into it, trying to gain another fraction of a second by entering it at speed. He came down with a horrendous splash—and found himself in the form of a dolphin.

  Ahead was a shark. A shark might not be considered prey to most creatures, but in life a dolphin could kill a shark by knocking it with the snout. Thus the shark fled the dolphin, in this situation.

  The water was not deep. Aquatic plants were rooted in its sediment, reaching their stems up to the surface, forming patterns of thin columns where they clustered. Sponges were grouped on rounded nether rocks. Some rifts showed below, partially filled with sediment, and a few dipped into dark holes that might be blind caves or might be tunnels. Small fish darted about, giving way to the far more massive dolphin.

  Bane forged after the shark. But the lead was still too great; he knew he could not catch up within the limit of this lake. Rather than expend his full energy trying to do so, he kept the pace and watched the surroundings, mentally mapping the terrain. The thickest growths of plants offered concealment, but also slowed progress of larger swimmers. Velocity of the contestants was equivalent, but not if they moved foolishly; he would feel better about plowing through those plants if he were smaller. As for the bottom—he paid special attention to the darkest holes, so that he would be able to spot them without faltering when he came this way again.

  The shark moved toward the bottom, and swerved around a greenish rock. Bane remained higher, and so was able to cut across above the rock, gaining another fraction of a second. He knew the shark would have to come up again, to enter the next medium, so in this, too, he was saving time. The fact was that Mach was not managing his forms perfectly. That was probably because a month’s training for this game was not enough to compensate for a lifetime as a robot. Mach was simply not acclimatized to the nuances of the motions of wild creatures. But he would probably catch on rapidly enough, with this experience.

  However, the shark was doing the right thing, overall: swimming swiftly ahead, never pausing or looping back, so that the dolphin could not close the gap significantly. While the Predator could always gain by proper management, the longer he took to close the gap, the more chances there were for something to interfere. It was best to catch the Prey as quickly as possible, to reduce the element of chance or error.

  Now the lake was turning shallow. They were approaching the far bank. The shark swam up, as it had to; there was nowhere else to go, without turning back. Bane gained another bit of distance.

  The shark shot up to the surface, and through, and disappeared. Bane angled up too, breaking into air—and he was winged, with feathers and beak. In fact he was a hawk, flying strongly: a predator bird, a raptor.

  Ahead of him, ascending the sky, was a black bird, a crow. The Prey.

  The day was clear, with a few fleecy clouds. But on the horizon was a darkening cloudbank. A wind was stirring; if a storm were brewing, it was coming this way. That could complicate things for flying but the hawk was a better flyer than the crow. In a storm, Bane could gain on his Prey. But the storm was not close, and they would be through this medium of air before it arrived. All he could do was keep flying, and try to close the distance.

  The horizon did not recede as they moved. This was the game setting, not reality; it was limited. As the crow flew, the line of the sky descended, heading down to touch the ground, sealing off further progress. The Prey had to seek the next medium.

  The crow plunged through the limit, just above the horizon, and disappeared. Bane swooped down to a similar level, because it would not do to turn landbound too high in the air, and went through also.

  He was back in the first medium, as he had known he would be. But this time he was not the tiger, he was the mongoose. The forms did not repeat for a player, they only progressed. That was why he had studied the layout the first time through: so that he could handle it well as the mongoose.

  Ahead a big snake was slithering
out of sight, probably a cobra. A mongoose could handle a cobra, being swift enough in close quarters to avoid the poisoned strikes. But in this situation, he could not run any faster than the snake could slither.

  But he could take a more direct route. The snake’s fastest travel was along the ground, while the mongoose could bound over some obstacles. Bane bounded, slowly closing the gap. By the time they reached the water he was only two seconds behind.

  In the lake, Bane was now the shark—pursuing a squid. The squid was almost as large as the shark, and its trailing tentacles made it longer. But its body was soft, and the shark’s teeth were hard; a few chomps would sever the tentacles and render it helpless, and soon the squid would be consumed. So it fled, jetting water behind so that it shot forward as swiftly as a fish. Its motion was jerky, because it had to pause to take in more water, but the overall velocity was the same as that of the shark.

  Would the squid dive, and seek refuge in one of the dark recesses at the bottom? That would be risky for it, for if it entered a blind cave, it would be trapped. There would be no caves that the shark could not eventually penetrate; the game allowed no indefinite hiding. If it had located a tunnel, it might swim through and out the far end, while the shark hovered at the near end; that would gain the Prey the time it needed to complete the course unscathed.

  Mach did not take the risk. He jetted straight across, and out the far side. Bane followed, perhaps a second and a half behind.

  He was now the crow, and Mach was an owl. The theory for the game was that the owl was a nocturnal creature, at a disadvantage by day, so the crow harassed it, napping about just out of reach and interfering with its hunting so that eventually it starved. The hawk would not do that; if it came at the owl, it would dive straight in, and the owl, being larger would simply grab it and destroy it with talon and beak. Bane doubted that interaction like that ever occurred in nature, but that hardly mattered here; the crow chased the owl, and if they looped through the course again, the owl would chase the hawk in the vicious circle that was the hallmark of this game. It was a good game, even in mockchange form, and Bane had always liked it.

  Mach took a moment getting oriented in owlform, and Bane gained a full second before their flights became straight. The end was close—if nothing happened.

  They plunged through the sky-curtain. Bane readied himself before he crossed, curling his crowform into as tight a ball as he could, passing through like a stone and plunking into the ground.

  This time he was the cobra, and though he wasn’t coiled, he was bunched. He launched a strike at the nearest object even as he landed, having judged the Prey’s position by the passage through the curtain. If there were that moment of reorientation, before the run began…

  He caught the tail of the tiger. His fangs sank in, delivering the poison—and the game was over. The Predator had caught the Prey.

  That night he did make love to Agape, but it was not enough to take his mind from the situation. “I have beaten mine other self in the first round, and I am ahead in the second. An I win again tomorrow, it be over—and I lose thee and he loses Fleta. Mayhap there be justice in it, but I like it not.”

  “But the benefit of the frames—” she started. “Aye, I know, I know! My mind does claim I be doing right—but mine heart be doubtful. What be his crime? That he loves the ‘corn? Fleta be worthy o’ love! That did I see when—” He broke off, embarrassed.

  “Bane, I understand,” Agape said. “I occupied her body, I learned her life, her ways, and her land, and came to love them all, as I love you. Of course she is worthy of love! Of Mach’s love, or yours.”

  “A love I would sunder!” he said bitterly. “Damn, would I could honestly lose this match!”

  “No, you have to try your best, and win it if you can. That is where your honor lies.”

  “Aye, aye! And try I will, though I fear success!”

  “That is all anyone can ask of you,” she said.

  He hugged her tightly. “Ah, alien creature, I do love thee! Would I could get closer yet to thee, to be a part of thee, and thee of me, forever!”

  “It can be done,” she murmured. “Not forever, but for a time.”

  His eyes popped open. “What meanest thou?”

  “I hold human form because that pleases you, but it is not my natural one, as you know. It is possible to embrace you amoeba-style, though I fear that might repulse you.”

  “Thou dost in no wise repulse me, Agape! Embrace me thy way!”

  “As you will. Speak if you change your mind; I will hear you.”

  She lay on top of him, on the bed, her breasts and thighs pressing on him. She kissed him, once, then put her head to the side. She started to melt.

  Bane lay still, feeling the change in her flesh. Her breasts lost cohesiveness, and so did the rest of her. She became like a huge pillow, warm and yielding. Then more like a water bag, and then like loose jelly. Her body spread out, making contact with all of his upper surface. The strange effect caused him to develop an erection; her melting protoplasm surrounded it warmly. She sagged, then flowed around him, between his arms and his body, between his legs. She became a padded wetsuit, a layer of warm wax all around him, and as far under him as his contact with the bed permitted. He raised his arms and legs slightly, and she completed the enclosure there; then he pushed back his head and hoisted his torso up, and she flowed around it and merged with herself.

  From his neck to his feet, he was encased by her, and it was the most comfortable feeling he could remember. His body, in Proton, was of metal and plastic; it did not matter, for now it felt Alive. Every part of him except his face was in her, and now she crept around his head and across that too, stopping only at the eyes, mouth and nose.

  “In this body, I need not to breathe,” he reminded her. “Complete it.”

  She closed the remaining gaps. Now he was cocooned by her substance, and it was like floating in warm water, only better, because she pulsed gently against every part of him, as if he had a heartbeat. He drifted in that wonderful alien embrace, and it seemed like an eternity. Truly, he was in her, and if it could only be for an hour, it was a phenomenal hour.

  In the second game of the round, Bane was the Prey. He did not know what animal he would become; that was a surprise to both players. How Trool and the Oracle had managed to come to an understanding of such details without either Bane or Mach knowing was hard to guess, since they were the conduits for the information. Perhaps they had code phrases that had meaning only for computers and trolls.

  He stepped through the curtain. He was on a broad plain, with a rocky escarpment to the north, that descended from a mesa. He was a monkey. He started running immediately, knowing that whatever form Mach took would be able to destroy the monkey.

  Sure enough, in five seconds a panther appeared behind him. He ran straight ahead, giving the big cat no chance to gain on him by cutting comers. But he watched the escarpment. Some of it was clifflike, and some was a jagged slope. From this distance he could not be certain, but he suspected there would be caves. If he could reach a cave, next time around…

  What form would he be in? What would lose to a monkey, but overcome a panther? He could not come up with an answer at the moment, but he decided to make for the caves next time, and if his form could take advantage of them, he would do so. He did not slow or swerve to get a closer look; he wanted to give his opponent no hint of whatever strategy he might have in mind. But he considered options. Go directly to the escarpment, circle it, and pop into a deep cave? Climb to the mesa? If he climbed, he might just lose time, but if there were a good cave entrance that could not be seen from below…

  He reached the shore of a wide river and plunged in. The river flowed toward the north, curving in a broad meander toward the escarpment and disappearing behind it, but it should be possible simply to swim across it and enter the medium of air quickly. He still had his five-second lead.

  He was a sting ray. He swerved to swim downriver, w
anting to explore the section that brushed the escarpment. He hoped the Predator would assume the Prey was swimming straight across, and lose a second or two.

  No such luck. A walrus appeared upriver, and immediately reoriented and stroked down. But at least he had not lost any time.

  He veered to the left, angling up. The walrus matched him, cutting the corner. Then he veered right and down, deep. As a ploy it was no good; the walrus merely matched the maneuver, cutting the corner again, picking up a bit of time.

  Then Bane saw what he was looking for: a weedshrouded cave, underwater in the right bank. It could be blind, but it could also lead to the mesa, or somewhere amidst the escarpment.

  He swerved back to the left, as if trying once more to shake the pursuit. Once more, it didn’t work. This time he carried across to the left bank, and angled up and out, sailing into the air.

  He was a four-winged insect—a dragonfly. He zoomed over a great field of flowers, but they did not tempt him; dragonflies were predators in their milieu, not pollen eaters.

  Behind him, by about four seconds, a bat sailed up out of the river. He could not fight that! He flew straight, maintaining his lead, until he plunged through the horizon, completing the first lap.

  He landed on the plain as a skunk. So that was what would balk the panther! But why not the monkey?

  He angled for the mesa. The ground soon became rocky. Behind him the monkey appeared and pursued.

  When the monkey encountered the stony section, it paused just long enough to scoop up a stone. Bane discovered this when that stone came flying past his head. That was how the monkey stopped the skunk—by catching it from a distance! Those stones were heavy and sharp; his skunk body was vulnerable. He needed more than four seconds’ distance, to get out of range. Meanwhile, he would have to dodge, which would cost him time. The chase was heating up!

  He reached the foot of the escarpment and scooted up. Monkeys were better climbers than skunks were, but he had scouted this terrain from a distance the first time through, and was on the gentlest part of the slope. He found a series of ledges that ascended along the south face of it, working up toward the mesa-top.