"This isn't some kind of super-duper football thing, is it? 'Cause I don't like the idea of being trapped inside some macho, testosterone-driven fantasy world of Gray's where you actually get hit by those skeletons."
"There is a more complete sensory version of 'Pro Football' in the works for the VR workstations, but that wasn't what I had in mind."
"Well, I'm not gonna get locked into one of those oversized phone booths in the computer center without knowing what you do have in mind."
"It's not the version 3H workstation I was talking about. I'd have to show you in the version 4C virtual-reality workstations. They are far roomier than the version 3Hs."
"But I'd be wearing a full-body suit — an exoskeleton — and the door to the room is closed, right? I don't think so."
"As you wish."
Laura removed the helmet, stepped down off the tread, and headed for the stairs. She stopped when she came upon the blank wall she'd seen before. If her sense of direction was accurate, the elevator shaft lay behind it. Laura returned to the treadmill and put the helmet back on.
The same introductory instructions about centering the red dots were recited.
"Can I just ask you one more thing? Are you still there?"
"Yes, Laura. What is it?"
"That elevator — the one by the stairs leading to the exercise room — where does it go?"
"It goes down to the lower levels."
"What lower levels?"
"Down into the mountain. Down to where the Model Eights are."
Laura took the helmet off and stared at the flat and empty wall.
30
With her hair still wet from the shower, Laura sat down at her writing desk to call Jonathan. What am I going to say? she thought as she picked the phone up.
He answered on the second ring.
"Jonathan."
"Hi-i-i, Laura." His tone seemed flat — uncertain — as if he didn't know how to behave.
"Is everything all right?" she asked.
"You're asking me that? What's going on down there?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
He laughed — a stilted, fake sound. She had heard it before. It was the way he had behaved back before he came out of the closet — before he got tenure. Something was definitely wrong.
"Well, of course," Laura said awkwardly, "I can't really talk. I mean, I'm not supposed to. I'm… I have a contract. A confidentiality thing." She forced a laugh. "You know, I don't wanna end up getting sued by Gray's lawyers. They might take my family fortune and leave me destitute."
After a delay, Jonathan replied in a flat tone, "I understand." She didn't know what to say next. "Listen, Laura," Jonathan continued with obvious discomfort, "it sounds like there's a stampede of people leaving that island. Are you going to be on one of those planes?"
"I don't know."
There was another long delay. "So," he said, "what about some of this stuff I've been hearing? Like Gray building up a nuclear arsenal — things like that? I mean, Gray's really a menace. He's gone loony, don't you think?"
"That's… that's not really the way it is at all, Jonathan. You've got it wrong. Gray's—"
"Laura!" Jonathan interrupted, not letting her go on. "Do you really understand what's going on up here?"
He was speaking urgently now, with emotion. "Jesus, there must be…" He hesitated, "Gray's being investigated by every government agency, from the Defense Department to Health and Human Services. He's going down. I'm talking criminal stuff." This was the real Jonathan, Laura felt sure. "And so are a lot of other people," he said slowly. Jonathan paused to let those words sink in. "Laura, sweetie," he continued, "you've gotta get off that island right now. Today. All hell's gonna break loose down there."
Her mind was reeling. She was caught between two worlds — the world of her old life, and of life after Gray. She didn't know what to say or do. "Laura?"
"Jonathan…" she began, but sighed in frustration. "You know how the media gets things twisted. They get some kind of sensational story about a public figure and distort the hell out of it to make headlines."
"You mean Gray? Are the newspapers distorting the fact that he built nuclear weapons, blasted them off into space, and then sent an asteroid careening toward the earth? One that could wipe us all out if he screws up?"
"He's got it under control," she said, amazed that the words were coming from her mouth.
"Then why the hell are you there?" Jonathan asked, his voice low and urgent. "What are you doing?" The sound of the hiss from the telephone connection was all she heard as he waited for her answer.
Laura's eyes grew unfocused and drifted off toward the far wall. "Come home, Laura. I don't know what kind of dark… attraction this guy Gray has over people, but you're too smart for it. You've got to see all the signs. Charismatic personality. Cults of faith built up around him. It's a classic messiah complex! Get out, Laura… while you still can."
As if in a trance she said, "I'll call you later on."
"Laura, I don't know if that's such a good idea."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean…!" He faltered, unable to complete the sentence, then sighed. "Maybe… maybe you should talk to a lawyer. I'd be happy to get somebody over at the law school for you. Or maybe, Laura… maybe it would be better if you didn't talk to anybody at all — over the phone, that is."
So that was it. Somebody was listening. "Good-bye, Jonathan," she said.
"See ya soon, Laura. I hope."
There was a click, and then the hiss of the long-distance line fell silent. Laura didn't lower the receiver at first. She didn't want to sever the tie. Slowly, however, she replaced the handset in its cradle and sank back into the chair — totally alone with her problem. She cradled her face in her hands. "What the hell should I do-o-o?" she mumbled to herself, the words distorted by the tug of her hands.
Her purse sat next to the telephone. She took out her wallet, and inside one of the pockets she found the FBI card with the telephone number on it.
She should call — spill her guts. They were probably desperate for information, and what she now knew would fill volumes. They would surely descend on those flights of ex-employees, but what would the average worker be able to tell them? They were all short on facts, but not, she realized, on rumors.
Laura tried to imagine what would happen once rumors of giant, anthropomorphic robots leaked out. Stories about the dark side of technology were always popular, and the press would go into a frenzy when it got a whiff of this one. Add in a deranged computer planning the trajectory of a plummeting asteroid… The government's gonna go ballistic, she thought.
As distraught as she felt, she had to smile at her choice of words. She'd been thinking about the asteroid "trajectory," and so she came up with the word "ballistic." The department chairman had said "hit this campus like a ton of bricks" when describing the effects of the news about the asteroid. Human brains were wired to make associations of that sort. Sometimes the associations were useful and led to insights. Other times they were coincidental and occasionally amusing. The computer's "brain" was wired the same way.
At that moment Laura knew what she'd do. Her answer had been there all along, but she'd been too distracted to think.
The computer was the most beautiful creation she'd ever known.
Laura was desperate to continue her [missing] explore the magnificence of the computer complexity. To remain seated at the right hand of its creator. And she would construct any rationalization it took to convince herself to stay.
Laura took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let her head recline onto the back of the plush chair. It was early morning, but she could already feel the tension pounding at her temples. What must the pressure be like for Gray? she wondered.
She leaned forward and tossed the FBI's card into the wastebasket.
"Charismatic personality," "cult," "messiah complex" — the words Jonathan had used sounded a warning. None seemed to ap
ply to Gray on the surface. But the island was isolated. Cut off from contact.
Hierarchical. They had idealistic, mission-oriented goals. Gray had convened a mass gathering and proclaimed that they would colonize space. The way Janet had recounted it — the dreaminess in her voice, her shining eyes — had put Laura on guard. Janet had seemed too loyal — too obedient. The hundreds like Janet would follow him anywhere. History was replete with examples of relatively sane people following totally insane leaders.
A picture of the black metal slug hurtling soundlessly toward the earth formed in her mind's eye. She leaned down under the table and retrieved the FBI card, slipping it into the pocket of her blue jeans.
31
Laura felt ridiculous sitting in Gray's palatial dining room all by herself. She'd asked Janet for a bagel and maybe a banana, and ended up with a pastry tray and fruit platter. Feeling guilty over eating so little, she was grazing through the sliced strawberries and kiwis when she heard the sounds of Gray issuing orders in the foyer.
She threw her napkin on the table and hurried out.
At first she didn't recognize him covered head to toe in a thick coat of dry mud. "And check the beaches for prints before the tide comes in!" Gray called out to the departing Hoblenz, who was similarly muddy.
Gray turned and caught sight of Laura. His face looked drawn and his eyes hollow. He headed for the stairs without saying a word, but Laura intercepted him at the banister.
"What going on?" she asked, and he stopped and faced her. "Where have you been?"
"Off-roading, I believe they call it," he replied. Every inch of him was dark gray with heavy grime except around his eyes and his hair.
He must have been wearing goggles and a helmet of some sort, Laura guessed. As usual, he said nothing more.
Janet was already busy sweeping up the dirt that had been tracked into the house. "Why is Janet having to do that?" Laura asked in a whisper…
Gray glanced the head of his household. "Must be some of the staff didn't show up for work. Probably down at the airport leaving with the rest of them."
"Are a lot of people leaving?" Gray nodded, seemingly unconcerned.
"But that's all right. Everything's highly automated." He looked back at Janet "Everything but domestic work."
"But can you continue your operations with so few people?"
"A couple hundred would do fine. Look, don't worry, Laura."
"I've laid out a pair of fresh blue jeans, sir," Janet said, stressing the word "blue" with her distinctly Australian accent. She smiled as she headed off with the broom and dustpan.
"Well, she's as loyal as can be," Laura said, probing to see if the departing employees were a sore subject.
"Janet's great," he replied casually. "She's also, I would guess, the highest-paid majordomo in the history of the profession."
"She told me you plan on colonizing space," Laura threw out abruptly — an intentional ambush.
Gray's eyes fixed on Laura, his look changing from surprise to amusement. "Now why would she say that," he asked from behind the façade. Laura's question had struck something solid.
"Isn't that what you said last night in your 'town meeting'?"
Gray shrugged and shook his head, a light rain of dirt falling to the marble and adding to Janet work. "Where would she get an idea like that?"
"She said you called it 'phase two.'"
"Well… sure. I discussed phase two. And it does involve significant manned operations in space. In connection with mining the asteroid and spin-off industrial production. Even a permanent manned presence — on a rotational basis."
"And maybe," Laura continued nonchalantly, "landing on the moon, the other planets, stuff like that?"
Gray opened his mouth to speak, but only a burst of air came out. He chose his words carefully. "Eventually. Even though the asteroid and other ones like it that I'll retrieve in the near future provide an excellent source of heavy metals, we also need lighter elements like silicates. You can only get those from the surface of planetary bodies. Did you know you can extract oxygen from lunar soil?"
Laura shook her head. "Nope. Sure didn't."
Gray obviously knew he hadn't thrown Laura off the trail because he kept on talking. "But I never used the word 'colonization' or anything like it."
"Maybe just… described the process in rough, broad-brush terms possibly?"
"Laura," he said in a soothing tone, "look… Janet must just be" — he shook his head—"you know, imagining things. Maybe it's some vestigial cultural trait in the British character. A legacy of all of England's years of empire that makes them think in terms of colonies."
"She's Australian."
He fell silent. After a moment delay he said, "Oh." Laura marveled that he knew so little about the trusted, devoted head of his household. "Well, I've really got to get cleaned up. Was there something that you needed?"
"Where did you and Hoblenz go when you went 'off-roading' last night?"
He again opened his mouth to speak, and again hesitated. "You know, you can't just ask me anything you think of and expect to get all answered."
"Why not?"
Gray didn't seem to have a satisfactory response and grew flustered. He sighed and said, "You realize of course that Hoblenz doesn't think I should talk to you anymore. He doesn't trust you."
"What about you? Do you trust me?"
It was a casually asked question, not one she'd given much thought. But he looked up at her — his eyes locking on hers. "Yes," he said in earnest reply, and she instantly regretted having asked.
His answer created in her a sense of obligation to him. A loyalty she could one day be forced to betray. "As much as I can trust anyone, I suppose."
The bond was broken, and she felt free again. Free, and disappointed. "Then, where were you? What were you doing?"
Gray seemed diminished, fatigued. His gaze fell to the floor and he said, "We were out in the jungle near Launchpad A."
"What were you doing out there?"
His hesitation this time seemed less a reluctance to reveal a secret than evidence of Gray's difficulty in discussing the subject.
The expression on his face darkened, and he hung his head with a look of great sadness. "We were looking for tracks," he finally said in a faraway voice.
"What kind of tracks? You mean footprints?" Gray nodded slowly.
"Like what you just sent Hoblenz off to look for on the beaches?"
Again, Gray nodded. "Did you find any?"
"That's it, Laura. That's all I can say."
He turned to leave, and she grabbed his filthy arm. Mud cascaded to the floor. "No it's not, Joseph Gray. That's not our deal."
He turned quickly to look at her. His face was inches away. She was keenly aware of just how close together they stood.
"Just what's our deal, Laura?" he asked quietly.
The question hung in the air for her to decipher. "Our deal," she said, swallowing to wet her throat, "was that you would keep me better informed." She let his arm go.
"So… what? Are you going to quit, too?" He was clearly exhausted, overburdened by the weight on his shoulders.
"No," she replied softly. She wanted to reach out to him again, to touch his arm, to take a warm washcloth and gently cleanse the handsome face which lay beneath the grime.
Gray reached up and rubbed both eyes vigorously. When he looked back her way, his eyes weren't the bright blue windows to the genius inside. They were the red and bleary lenses through which people on the verge of a breakdown view the world.
"We've had an intruder," he said. "Hoblenz's men found tracks in the night using thermal imagers. The footprints were still warm from the man's body heat."
"How do you know it was a man? Did you find him?"
Gray blinked and focused his eyes. Then with what looked to be great effort he turned to face her. "Yes."
"Out there in the middle of that thick jungle by the launch pad."
Gray nodded. "Who is he
?"
"A soldier." His voice had a distant quality to it, as if he were reliving the scene in his mind as he spoke.
"From what country?"
"Hoblenz thinks Belgium," Gray said before drifting farther away. "The guy had placed a monitoring device near the edge of the jungle. Hoblenz says it would've fed still video images of the assembly building and computer center to a satellite. Standard, off-the-shelf NATO stuff."
"Where's the man now?"
Gray was slumped over in fatigue. He didn't answer.
"Oh, my God," she whispered, raising her hands to her mouth. "Hoblenz didn't…? You didn't… hurt him?"
Gray shook his head, and Laura relaxed. "He was already dead."
He couldn't look her in the eye.
"How?" she finally asked. "How did he die?"
"Trauma," Gray said with a tired sigh. He looked up at her. "Dismemberment."
"Jesus Christ, Joseph. A robot!" He grew highly uncomfortable again. "Is that what it was? Could it have been a robot, because I saw a Model Seven — two of them, in fact — come out of that very same area when I walked out to the launch pad to meet you yesterday. And you know, come to think of it, they had sort of a… a suspicious manner, like I'd caught them doing something they—"
"No," Gray snapped, then quickly calmed himself. "No, Laura."
"But what else could it have been? I mean, did it break the poor man's arms or legs? Did he bleed to death?"
Gray took a deep breath before answering. "He was decapitated."
She stared at him in stunned silence. "Oh, my God, Joseph. How can you say it wasn't a robot?"
"I didn't say it wasn't a robot!" he snarled, and Laura fell silent. Gray swallowed hard. "Hoblenz found the body with infrared from a helicopter. His men then went all over the area with thermal imagers but didn't find any tracks at all. It takes about twelve hours for a footprint to cool, so we should have seen the guy's tracks. Hoblenz finally set up these bright arc lights like night construction crews use, and we saw them. All over the jungle."
"But I thought you said… you said you didn't see any other footprints?"
Society of the Mind Page 33
