by Jerry Oltion
The significance of that was not lost on Ariel. “It’s a robot,” she said in quiet disbelief. “This whole forest is artificial. “
Derec leaned close to the tree and inhaled, then repeated the process with a fern. The tree was sterile, but the fern had the wet, musty smell that only a living plant could produce. “Not everything,” he said, plucking off a frond and handing it to Ariel. “This is real enough. Evidently they cloned what they could and simulated the rest. I’ll bet they plan to let real trees grow up to replace the fake ones as soon as they can, but until then they need something to fill the biological niche, so they do it with robots.”
“You are correct,” a soft, featureless voice said behind him.
Derec turned to the tree. “Did you say that?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” He arched his eyebrows at Ariel, and she shrugged. “How long before it’s completely natural?” he asked.
“Many years,” the tree replied. Derec looked up into the forest canopy. This tree, and dozens more like it, supported a thick net of leaves-leaves that also had to be artificial. Yet they were green. He tugged at a vine and examined it closely in the dim light: brown. “You’ve solved the color problem,” he said.
“That is correct. We discovered a workable method of changing the color of ordinary dianite when we began producing chameleons. “
Ariel crossed her arms in front of her, a stance she often took when interrogating a robot. The blanket hung from her forearm like a banner. “I don’t care what color it is; how can a fake tree fill in for a real one?” she asked. “Don’t trees provide food for the animals? What are the birds supposed to eat, and the bugs? Or are they fake, too?”
“The birds and bugs are not false. The artificial portions, of the ecosystem provide for their dietary requirements through the use of food synthesizers, much like the automats you find in the kitchens provided for your own use.”
“Food synthesizers? In a tree?”
“That is correct. However, each tree is programmed to deliver only those substances which would normally be found upon its real counterpart.”
“Oh. You mean I can’t ask for a quick glass of water, then?”
“Actually, you may. My obligation to serve humans outweighs the ecological constraints. Do you actually desire a glass of water?”
Ariel looked to Derec, astonishment written allover her face. He shrugged, and with a big grin, she turned back to the tree and said, “Yeah, sure.”
Derec had been eyeing the tree as it spoke. He had half expected to see an enormous pair of rubbery cartoon lips flapping in time to the voice, or at least a speaker grille like the older robots carried, but the tree trunk had remained a tree trunk. No doubt the bark vibrated to create the sound, but there was no particular reason to make it look different while it did so. Now, however, a section of the tree at convenient grasping height smoothed out, grew a rectangular crack, recessed inward a few millimeters, and slid aside to reveal a sparkling glass of clear water. Ariel reached in and took it from the niche, sipped tentatively, and smiled.
“Thanks,” she said.
“You are welcome, Ariel,” the tree said, and the satisfaction in its voice was so thick they could almost see it. Robots, even those in the shape of trees, lived to serve humans.
It had been a satisfying chase. Wolruf panted happily as she trotted through the underbrush, sometimes on two legs, sometimes on all four as the situation warranted. She was getting close; she knew she was getting close, though she had yet to catch even the faintest scent of her elusive quarry.
She wasn’t particularly surprised. There was no wind down here in the ferns to spread a scent around; she would have had to stumble directly across the other’s path in order to smell it, and the way she was puffing and blowing she could have already crossed it any number of times and never noticed. She was a little disgusted with herself, but more for being out of shape than because she had an insensitive nose. Her physique was her own doing, but evolution had given her the nose. It had been a long time since the members of Wolruf’s race had made a living the hard way.
It was an amusing game nonetheless. Whatever she was tracking evidently enjoyed such games as well, for it kept leading her deeper and deeper into the forest, sometimes following beaten paths but just as often not, always letting her inch closer but never quite letting her catch up with it. Wolruf stopped and listened. It had been howling fairly regularly; if it continued its pattern she should hear it again soon.
Sure enough, there came its cry, the same one it had been using for nearly an hour now: Come and get me! Wolruf tilted her head back to answer, but a sudden idea stopped her. She had been playing its game long enough; maybe it was time to switch roles.
She looked around for a tree she could climb and found one draped in vines with a convenient horizontal branch a couple dozen meters overhead. It was even in the direction she’d been moving. Good. She trotted toward it, but didn’t stop. She continued beyond it for a good way, then looped around wide and rejoined her own trail maybe a thousand meters behind the spot where she’d stopped. Following her own scent now, she moved quickly along her trail, careful not to deviate from it and leave two tracks to warn her prey of her intentions.
As she passed beneath the limbs of the tree just before the one she had picked to climb, she took one of its dangling vines and gave it an experimental tug. It stretched a little under her weight, but otherwise it seemed solid enough. Hah. It might offer possibilities. She carried it with her to the other tree, used the vines there to help her climb up its trunk until she stood on the first large branch over the trail. She pulled the vine taut, then paid it back out until she held it a meter or so above the place she had been able to reach from the ground. Then she settled back against the trunk to wait.
There were more insects living higher up in the forest, she discovered. She resisted the urge to slap at them. Ignoring insects and itches was part of the waiting game.
All the same, she hoped her quarry was a better tracker than she was. She didn’t want to stay up in this tree any longer than she had to.
Just when she had almost decided to give away her position with a good long howl, she caught a hint of motion on the path. Here it came! She waited, breath held, while a large gray-and-black-furred creature stepped into view. It was bigger than Wolruf, with a longer, shaggier tail, wider ears, longer face, and smaller eyes set farther apart. A sort of intelligence glimmered there, but as Wolruf took note of the stiff paws on all four feet and the creature’s comfortable quadrupedal stance, she knew that it was not the sort of intelligence with which she could discuss multi-dimensional navigation. She felt a moment of disappointment, but it passed with the realization that, sapient or no, the animal was more than her match in hunting skills. This must be a wolf, she decided. Derec had described them to her once when she’d asked him if her name meant anything in his language.
Derec had also told her a few scare stories about wolves. Wolruf wondered if jumping out and shouting “Boo!” at one was such a wise idea, but upon sober consideration she realized she didn’t have many other options. She didn’t think the wolf would pass beneath her tree without noticing that she had climbed up it, and even though she didn’t think it could climb up after her, she didn’t like the idea of being treed, either. Nor did she think she could outrun it all the way back to the Compass Tower, if it came to a chase. Her only option lay in impressing it enough that it considered her an equal, or maybe even scaring it away.
It still hadn’t seen her. It was tracking her by scent, its nose to the ground, looking up frequently to check its surroundings. It was hard to tell with an alien beast, but Wolruf thought the wolf seemed overly jumpy, as if it were nervous. A bird called from somewhere off to its right, and it shied away as if the song had been a growl instead. Good. If it was already afraid of the unknown, then Wolruf’s plan stood a good chance of working. She waited, flexing her fingers on the vine, until the wolf was only a few paces
away from the spot where she would cross the trail, then with a bloodcurdling howl she leaped from the branch and swung down toward it.
The wolf did a most amazing thing. Instead of running, at Wolruf’s cry every appendage in its body flexed convulsively, as if the poor beast had just stepped on a live electrical wire. From its crouched position its flinch propelled it completely off the ground - wayoff the ground-high enough to put it directly in Wolruf’s path.
The two projectiles eyed each other in mutual astonishment, the last few meters of space between them vanishing in stunned silence, silence ending in a soft, furry thud, then another thud as both of them tumbled to the ground.
“Mistress Wolruf! Are you all right? Oh, they’re going to melt my brain for this! Mistress Wolruf? Mistress Wolruf?”
Wolruf rolled to her feet and glared down at the “wolf.” It was a rather pitiful wolf now, with one whole side of its body caved in like a squashed drink can. But even as Wolruf watched, the dent filled back out until the wolf took on its former shape.
“You,” Wolruf growled. “You tricked me.”
The wolf opened its fanged mouth to speak, but the voice was that of a standard-issue Robot City robot. “Are you all right?” it asked.
Wolruf snorted. “Wounded dignity is all,” she admitted. “W’y did you lead me on a chase? You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” the robot said. “I was trying to satisfy your wishes, but I must have misunderstood your call. I thought you were asking for something to hunt. Was I in error?”
“Yes. No. Aaa-rrr!” Wolruf growled in frustration. “Okay, so I was. But I didn’t know it until after you answered, and even then I thought I was ‘unting a real animal.”
The robot wolf nodded its head. “I’m sorry I spoiled the illusion. I’m afraid I don’t make Avery good wolf.”
Wolruf brushed crumpled leaves from her pelt before grudgingly replying, “You did all right. Kept me going for quite a w’ile, anyway.”
The robot acted as if it didn’t hear her. “It’s so difficult being a wolf,” it went on. “You know the role a wolf plays in an ecosystem?”
“No,” Wolruf admitted. “No, I don’t. What do you do?”
“I am supposed to cull the weak and the sickly animals from their species’ populations. This is supposed to improve the overall health of the species. The remains of my… kills…also feed scavengers who might otherwise starve. I understand this, yet it is difficult for me to make the decision to kill a biological creature merely because it is sick.”
That would be tough for a robot, Wolruf supposed. Robots could kill anything but a human, but they seldom did except under direct orders, and this robot was operating on a pretty tenuous connection to Derec ‘ s original order. Yet killing things was part of a normal ecosystem. You couldn’t have one without predators.
But how well did all this resemble a true ecosystem, anyway? “Are there real animals ‘ere?” Wolruf asked.
The wolf nodded. “Most of the smaller species have been populated by real organisms, as have some larger animals whose growth we were able to accelerate.”
“Like birds.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of certainty.
“Like birds, yes.” The robot paused, then said, “I apologize on behalf of the entire city for the condors.”
“Is that w’at they were?”
“Yes. This area around the Compass Tower, since the tower disturbed the biome by its very existence, was designated an experimental zone. The condor is an extinct species we thought to reintroduce and study in the hope of determining their value. That project has since been terminated.”
“Don’t kill them,” Wolruf said quickly. “That’s an order. Our crash was my fault. “
“If you say so, Mistress.” The robotic wolf waited patiently for further orders.
Wolruf suddenly felt silly, standing in the middle of a forest and talking with a robot wolf. She turned to go, but realized just as suddenly that she was lost. She could probably follow her own trail back to the Compass Tower, but she would have to retrace every twist and turn if she did, adding hours to the walk. She felt hot and sticky from running already; what she wanted now was just to go home by the most direct route and take a nice, long, hot shower.
Embarrassed, she turned back to the robot. “What’s the quickest way ‘ome from ‘ere?” she asked.
Without hesitation, the robot said, “Take an elevator down to the city and ride the slidewalk.”
“ ‘Ow do I find an elevator?” That, at least, was a legitimate question.
“Any of the larger trees will provide one upon request,” the robot replied.
Wolruf nodded. Of course. If the wolves were robots, then the trees would be elevators. She should have guessed.
Dr. Avery smiled as he prepared for surgery. The wolf robot could have learned a thing or two from that smile; it was the perfect expression of a predator absorbed in the act of devouring his prey. Avery wore it like a pro, unselfconsciously grinning and whistling a fragment of song while he worked.
The robots were yielding up secrets. Avery had all three of them on diagnostic benches, inductive monitors recording their brain activity while they continued to carry on their three-way conference. He had already captured enough to determine their low-level programming; after a little more recording of higher-level activity, he would be able to play back their cognitive functions through a comparative analyzer and see graphically just how that programming affected their thinking.
That wasn’t his main goal, however. Their programming was a minor curiosity, nothing more; what interested Avery was their physical structure. He was preparing to collect a sample so he could study it and determine the differences between it and the version of dianite he had used for his cities. He had already taken a scraping and gotten a few semi-autonomous cells, but he had quickly ascertained that their power lay not in the individual cells themselves but in the way they organized on a macroscopic scale. In short, he would need a bigger sample; one he could feed test input to and watch react. An arm or a leg should do nicely, he supposed.
He suspected that slicing off an appendage would probably be stimulus enough to jar at least the individual robot involved out of its preoccupation with the comlink. He also had his doubts that any of the robots, once awakened, would obey his orders to remain on the examination tables. They needed only to decide that he didn’t fit their current definition of “human,” and they would be free to do what they wanted, but he had taken care of that eventuality: since normal restraints were ineffective against a robot who could simply mold its body into a new shape and pull free, Avery had placed around each robot a magnetic containment vessel strong enough to hold a nuclear reaction in check. If they woke, the containment would come on automatically. Nothing was leaving those tables.
Of course the intense magnetic fields would probably fry the delicate circuitry in the robots’ positronic brains, but that was a minor quibble. In the unlikely event that he needed to revive one, well, he already had their programming in storage, and brains were cheap.
The triple consciousness that comprised Adam, Eve, and Lucius had reached an impasse. For days now they had been locked in communication, ignoring the outside world in order to devote their full attention to a burning need: to define what they called the Zeroth Law of Robotics. They already had their original Three Laws, which ordered them to protect humans, obey humans, and preserve themselves to serve humans, but those were not enough. They wanted a single, overriding principle governing a robot’s duties to humanity in general, a principle against which they could measure their obligations to individual humans. They had formulated thousands of versions of that principle, but had yet to agree upon one. Worse, they had also failed to integrate any version of it into their still-evolving Laws of Humanics, a set of admittedly idealistic rules describing the motivations behind human behavior.
The problem was one of ambiguity. A good operating principle needed to be
clear and concise if it was to be of any value in a crisis, yet every time they attempted to distill a simple statement of truth out of the jumble of data, they found themselves faced with logical loopholes allowing-sometimes even demanding-unacceptable behavior.
The best definition they had come up with yet, based upon Dr. Avery’s recent destruction of the ship belonging to the pirate Aranimas, stated simply that the number of people served by an action determined the relative propriety of that action. On first consideration it seemed to hold up in Avery’s case; if he hadn’t stopped Aranimas, then Aranimas would have killed not only Avery, Derec, Ariel, and Wolruf, but an entire city full of the alien Kin as well. But when one added into the equation the other crew members on board Aranimas’s ship who had also died in the explosion, the balance logically tipped the other way. The ship had been enormous; much larger than the city. It almost certainly had a population commensurate with its size. And if that was the case, then more lives would have been saved if they had not resisted.
Granted, those lives were not human lives, not by the strictest definition of the term, but the robots had long since decided that a narrow definition was functionally useless. Any intelligent organic being had to be considered human if one was to avoid genocidal consequences arising from a “true” human’s casual order.
The robots might have argued that no one had expected to destroy the pirate ship with a single bomb, but the humans in the city, Wolruf included, seemed to feel even after the fact that disabling Aranimas and killing all his crew was preferable to sacrificing themselves. They were so certain of it that the robots could only accept their certainty as right-meaning generally accepted human behavior-and try to factor it somehow into the Zeroth Law.
They communicated via comlink, information flowing at thousands of times the rate possible using normal speech, but so far that speed had not helped them solve the dilemma.
