by Isaac Asimov
“Hi. I was just thinking of you,” he managed to say, the catch in his voice painfully obvious, at least to him.
“Liar,” she said with combined sarcasm and warmth. “But that’s all right. I wanted to see you, too.”
“Have you noticed that building?”
“Of course. I’ve been standing here for the last few moments, while you’ve been zoned out. Amazing, isn’t it? I bet you’re already trying to figure out how to analyze it.”
“Oh, of course. How did you find me?” he asked.
“Wolruf sniffed you out. She and Mandelbrot are waiting downstairs.”
“What’s Wolruf doing down there?”
“She doesn’t like the cold air up here. Says it makes her too nostalgic for the wild fields during those cold autumn nights.” Ariel sat down beside him. She leaned back and supported herself on her palms.
The fingers of her right hand almost touched his.
Derec was acutely aware of her fingers’ warmth. He wanted to stretch out his hand the half-inch it would take to touch them, but instead he leaned back on his elbows and scrunched his hands close to his sides.
“What are you doing up here in the first placer’ she asked.
“Making a pit stop.”
“Huh?”
The moment’s silence between them was decidedly awkward. She blinked, then stared at the rotating building.
During that moment, Derec’s thoughts shuffled like cards, and he was on the verge of blurting many things. But in the end he finally decided on the noncommittal, “I’ve just been taking a break from things.”
“That’s good. It’s healthy to stop thinking about worrisome things for a while. Have you come up with a way out of here yet?”
“No, but you must admit the here-and-now isn’t a bad place to be in, compared to some of our predicaments.”
“Please, I don’t want to think about hospitals now. If I never see another diagnostic robot again, it’ll be too soon for me.”
“But you’ll be better off when you do!” Derec exclaimed, immediately regretting the words.
Ariel’s face darkened with anger. “Why? Just because I’ve got a disease that’s slowly driving me insane?”
“Uh, well, yes. For a beginning.”
“Very funny, Mr. Normal. Hasn’t it occurred to you that I might like the disease, that I might prefer the way my mind is working now to how it worked during the time when I was ‘sane’?”
“Uh, no, it hasn’t, and I don’t think it has occurred to you, either. Listen, Ariel, I was attempting to make a joke. I didn’t mean to offend you, or even to bring the subject up. The words just stumbled out.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Ariel turned away from him with a shrug.
“I want you to be well. I’m concerned for you.”
She wiped her face and forehead. Was she perspiring?
Derec couldn’t tell in the dark. “Listen, you’ve got to understand that lately I’ve been experiencing serious difficulty in keeping my thoughts straight,” she said. “It’s not always bad. It comes and it goes. Even so, sometimes I feel like someone is pulling my brain out of my head with a pair of pliers. I just got over one of those moments.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Derec suddenly felt like his heart had been caught in pliers, too. The inches between them seemed like a gulf. He wondered if he was insane, too, to think of crossing that gulf and taking her in his arms. He wondered if she would relax when he glided her head to his chest.
He decided to change the subject, in the hopes of changing the unspoken subject, too. “You know, even though I still don’t know my identity, I think I’ve managed to find out a lot of things about myself since I awoke on that mining complex. I’ve discovered I’ve got pretty good instincts. Especially about being able to tell who my friends are.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And upon due consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that you just might be one of them.”
Ariel smiled. “Yeah? You really think so?”
Derec smiled in return. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
“Well, I can live with that.” She pursed her lips. “So tell me, Mr. Genius, how does that building fit in with the city’s programming?”
“I don’t know. It’s an anomaly.”
“What do you call that shape?”
“A tetragonal pyramid.”
“Looks like two pyramids stuck together to me.”
“That’s why it’s called tetragonal.”
“Look how it shines, how the colors glitter. Do you think Dr. Avery is responsible? He’s responsible for everything else.”
“If you mean did he plan something like that, I’m not sure I know.”
“That’s a straight answer,” she said sarcastically.
“Excuse me, I’m not trying to be obtuse. I mean, the structure could be implicit in the programming, to some degree anyway, but whether or not Avery knew it when he set Robot City in motion, I can’t say.”
“If you had to make a guess —”
“I’d say not. I’ve studied the programming of the central computer system pretty closely, not to mention cell specimens taken both from the city and from various robots, and I certainly hadn’t suspected anything that. “that breathtaking was possible.”
“Have you noticed how the hues in the crimson plane give the illusion of depth, as if it were made of crystallized lava? And’ how the blue plane most resembles the Auroran sky?”
“Sorry, but I can’t remember having seen lava, and I’ve only vague memories of the Auroran sky.”
“Oh. I’m the one who should be sorry now.”
“Forget it. Come on. The building’s probably even more beautiful close up.”
“Absolutely! But what about Wolruf and Mandelbrot? Wolruf might be impressed, but I don’t see how a robot like Mandelbrot is going to have his reinforced curiosity integral aroused by something his programming hasn’t prepared him to appreciate.”
Derec shook his head. “Don’t bet on it. If my suspicions are correct, it’s a robot who’s personally responsible. I’m interested in finding out which one. And if I’m interested, Mandelbrot will be interested.”
“I see. You’ll doubtlessly spend hours with him trying to pinpoint some obscure, insignificant detail, instead of trying to get us out of here,” Ariel observed sneeringly. “Don’t you ever get tired of robots?”
Derec realized her sudden mood swing wasn’t her fault, but couldn’t help saying what he did. “I see you’re ‘not forward but modest as the dove — not hot but temperate as the mom.”’
Much to his surprise, Ariel burst out laughing.
And much to his chagrin, Derec felt insulted. He had wanted the joke to be his own private one. “What’s so funny?”
“That’s from The Taming of the Shrew. I read that play last night, and when I reached those lines, I happened to wonder aloud if you’d ever say them to me.”
Now Derec felt inexplicably crestfallen. “You mean you’ve been reading Shakespeare, too?”
“Can I help it? You’ve been leaving printouts of the plays allover the place. Most untidy. Come on. Let’s go downstairs. I know where a couple of fast scooters are sitting, just waiting for us to hop on.”
Chapter 2
BECALMED MOTION
ARIEL AND DEREC found Mandelbrot and Wolruf in the lobby, standing before one of the automats that Derec had programmed via the central computer to appear in at least ten percent of the buildings. He had done this to insure that the three on this planet who did require sustenance would have more or less convenient access to it.
Indeed, as he and Ariel stepped off the lift, Derec couldn’t help but notice that Wolruf was down on all fours, hunched over a plate of synthetic roughage. It looked like it was red cabbage disappearing down that mighty maw. Mandelbrot was punching the automat buttons at a steady pace, ensuring a steady supply. Both seemed so intent on their respective tasks that neit
her seemed to have noticed the creaking of the lift, or the hissing of its opening doors.
“Forgive me, I know my understanding of culinary needs is limited since robots partake of food only for diplomatic purposes,” said Mandelbrot, “but is it not vaguely possible that more consumption will result in the untimely reemergence of a significant portion of your meal?”
“Thisss one judge that!” said Wolruf, belching rudely before taking another gulp. “Thisss one forrgot to eat today!”
Derec stood on his tiptoes so he would be that much closer to Ariel’s ear (she was several centimeters taller), and he whispered from the side of his mouth. “Is it my imagination, or is Wolruf putting away enough to sink a moon?”
“She has a big appetite as a result of her high metabolism,” Ariel whispered in return.
Derec raised an eyebrow. “I hope Wolruf hasn’t been doing that since you first came up on the roof. If she keeps using raw materials at this rate, she could start her very own energy crisis.”
“Her people have a custom of big meals, anyway. Perhaps it’s a sublimation of their other animal urges.”
“You mean her kind might have begun their evolutionary history as meat-eaters, then evolved into vegetarians whose big meals relieved them of their urges to kill for food?”
“The predilection toward violence wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“Hmmrn. From what I’ve seen of her sublimation activity, it’s no wonder her species was unaware of space travel until their homeworld was first visited by aliens. They were all simply too busy burping to have time for scientific pursuits.”
Derec had intended the remark perfectly innocently, but Ariel appeared genuinely shocked. “You know something, Derec? Your penchant for low humor never ceases to amaze me.”
“Aw rrright, thiss one heard ‘nuff this converr-sation line,” said Wolruf in mid-chew, finally looking up from the plasti-dish. “It customary for ourrr kind to eat’til full ohverrr and ohverrr when food is plen’iful.
Ingrained instinct born of the trrrial and trrribulatshons of untold centurrries of hunting.”
Mandelbrot stopped pressing dispensary buttons, turned, and looked down at the caninoid. “Forgive me, Wolruf, perhaps it is not my place to make such observations, but I estimate that once the energy from your repast is stored in your body cells, you will lose point-zero-zero-one percent of your natural speed, thus diminishing your survival abilities should fleetness of foot be required. Your next meal, should it be as large as this, would do even more damage.”
“If she can’t run, I’m sure she can roll,” said Derec, crossing the lobby toward the alien and the robot.
The left side of Wolruf’s mouth quivered as she growled. She cocked one ear toward the humans, and the other back toward the robot behind her. “Thiss one convinced humanz lack funnee bone.”
Derec recalled as well how scratchy Wolruf’s brown and gold coat had appeared when he had first met her, when he was being held captive by the alien Aranimas. Now her fur was slick and soft to the touch, no doubt due to the dietary improvements the robots had taken upon themselves to make. In some ways she resembled a wolf, with her flat face, unusually long, pointed ears, and her sharp fangs. A fierce intelligence burned behind her yellow eyes, reminding Derec that she was an alien from a culture about which he knew next to nothing, a creature who would have been new and strange and wonderful — perhaps even dangerous — in a world where she was the only mystery.
On the other hand, Mandelbrot was dependable and old-fashioned and predictable, and hence all the more wonderful because Derec had built him himself, from the spare parts provided by Aranimas, who had also indentured Wolruf as an aide. Mandelbrot was programmed to serve Derec first and foremost of all human beings. The other robots in Robot City were programmed to serve Doctor Avery first, and so Derec could never totally depend on them to follow his instructions to the letter. Sometimes when they did, they violated the spirit of the instructions. Mandelbrot adhered to the spirit as well.
Derec did not blame the robots of the city for their frequent evasions. After all, what else could anyone reasonably expect of a robot, so long as his behavior did not conflict with the Three Laws?
“How was your meditation, master?” asked Mandelbrot. “Did you achieve any insights that you would care to share with us?”
“No, but I did manage to get a few wires uncrossed.” Before Mandelbrot — who tended to interpret Derec’s remarks quite literally — could ask him which wires and where they might be, Derec told them about the spectacular building the city had grown. “It doesn’t fit the character or context of the city’s minimalist engineering at all, as if it’s somehow the product of a totally different mind.”
“No, therr’r cells here,” protested Wolruf. “Could be result of unprezi’ented evolu’-onary developmen’.”
Derec rubbed his chin as he thought about what Wolruf was saying. It made sense. The city’s DNA-like codes could be mutating and developing on their own, just as bacteria and viruses evolved without mankind’s notice or approval on the civilized worlds.
Mandelbrot nodded, as if deep in thought. The truth was, however, that his positronic potentials were sifting through all the information gained from the moment he had awakened in Derec’s service, selecting the points relevant to the situation at hand in the hope that when they were juxtaposed into a single observation, it would shed new light on the matter. The conclusion that resulted from all this micromagnetic activity, unfortunately, left something to be desired. “It is much too early to speculate on what created the building, who did it, or why. Candor forces me to admit, though, that my private conversations with the native robots indicate their creative efforts might be permitting particular individuals to make what scholars refer to as a conceptual breakthrough.”
“Why haven’t you told me this earlier?” Derec asked in an exasperated tone.
“You did not ask, and I did not think it germane to any of our discussions of the last few days,” said Mandelbrot evenly.
“Ah,” said Ariel, her eyes widening. “Perhaps the robots have decided to experiment with humanoid behavior in the hopes of gathering empirical evidence.”
“I hope not,” said Derec laconically. “It disturbs me to think I might have become some kind of scientific role model to them.”
“What makes ‘u think therr studying’u?” asked Wolruf slyly.
“Come on,” said Derec impatiently. “Time’s a-wasting!”
Outside, the low, thick clouds rolling in from the horizon had began to reflect the opalescence, which in turn was mirrored in the shimmering, multifaceted buildings surrounding Derec and his friends. He felt as if the entirety of Robot City had been engulfed in a cool fire.
And deep in the city was the glowing point of origin — rotating with those varying shades, as if an industrial holocaust of mammoth proportions had disrupted the fabric of reality itself, exposing the scintillating dynamism that lay hidden beneath the surface of all matter. It was easy for Derec to imagine — just for the sheer joy of idle speculation — that the glow was expanding, gradually absorbing the rest of the city into its coolness.
Indeed, so bright were the reflections from the building beyond and the clouds above that occasionally a street’s own lighting fixtures, which automatically switched on and off whenever it was occupied, stayed deactivated. The four found themselves traveling down streets shining with undiluted hues of blue or crimson, as if they had suddenly become immersed in the semihospitable fires of a mythological netherworld.
So it was indeed natural for Derec to assume that neither Mandelbrot nor Wolruf commented on the particulars of the unusual incandescence because some other matter was uppermost in their minds. That matter being the speed of the scooters he and Ariel were piloting through the streets. The hums of the electric engines echoed from the buildings as if a blight of locusts was nigh, and the screeching of the tires as they made their turns was like the howl of a photon explosion, blas
ting its target into an antimatter universe.
Ariel naturally had taken the lead. She had designed the scooters herself while Derec was preoccupied with other activities, and she had even convinced the engineer robots that the scooters’ extra horsepower was actually good for the driver, since it would give her a chance to alleviate some of the “death wish”
humans carried around with them. “Why do you think a First Law — either Robotics or Humanics — is necessary in the first place?” she had said. The engineers, who were quite mentally adept at solving practical problems, were unprepared to deal with that kind of logic, and so had no choice but to acquiesce to her demands.
“Master! Can we not proceed at a slower pace?” implored Mandelbrot beside him in the sidecar as the theoretically stable three-wheeled vehicle tilted radically to the left to compensate for Derec’s swerve into a boulevard. “Is there some urgency to this matter that I have yet to perceive?”
“No! I’m just trying to keep up with Ariel!” Derec replied, unable to resist a smile at how Wolruf was cowering down in the sidecar of Ariel’s scooter, nearly half a kilometer ahead.
“Perhaps the Master will forgive me if I point out that keeping up with Miss Burgess is itself a full-time proposition. You can never succeed, so why waste precious energy trying at every conceivable opportunity?”
“Hey, I don’t want her making any major discoveries before I have a chance to make them myself!”
Derec shouted over the wind.
“Are you implying that we might soon be traveling at a greater velocity? Master, I must confess that such a notion runs contrary to the world-view inherent in my every micromagnetic current.”
“No — I want to catch up with her, but I’m not suicidal. Besides, I’m willing to bet that if I gunned this scooter any more, all Three Laws of Robotics combined will compel you to stop me.”
“Merely to slow you down,” Mandelbrot replied. “However, I do have a suggestion which, if acted upon, may give us both what we want.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
