by Isaac Asimov
Beside her was a huge dish of artificial roughage. Though her concentration was on the screens, she was absent-mindedly, systematically picking up handfuls and stuffing them into her mouth.
If she had a tail, Derec thought, she’d be wagging it in happiness.
“Master, it’s curtain time!” said Mandelbrot.
Derec raised an eyebrow. “Mandelbrot! Is that a quiver of excitement I detect in your voice?”
Mandelbrot shook his head — Derec couldn’t tell if it was from confusion or from a desire to communicate an emphatic no. “That would be impossible.” He straightened and paused. “Unless I’ve assimilated some of your lessons on voice inflection, and have begun using them without conscious knowledge.”
“Later, Mandelbrot, later. Let’s get this show on the, uh, road.” He gave a signal to a stagehand, and the curtain rose.
A single shaft of light revealed the robot playing Francisco, the guard at his post, standing in the center of the stage. The robot playing Bernardo entered and said, “Who’s there?”
Francisco stood straight, gestured with his spear, and said in authoritative tones, “Nay, answer me; stand, and unfold yourself.”
At the moment, Derec could not recall a single one of his lines, not even those of the difficult soliloquy, but now he felt confident that he would know what to do and what to say when the time came. He steeled himself, realizing that he would have to forget about being Derec What’s-his-name for a while.
For the next three hours, he would be somebody else. somebody called Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.
Indeed, once he stepped into the stream, Derec was rushed headlong down the events of the playas if he had been swept up by rapids. He even forgot to spring some of his surprises on Canute, slight line changes reflecting the events of the past few weeks that, presumably, were subtle enough that only Canute would grasp their import and realize Derec was planning to put him on the spot. Derec eventually signaled Mandelbrot that he was calling off that entire aspect of his plot, because to change the play at this point, even for a good reason, seemed almost criminal.
All the robots performed brilliantly, with perfect precision. Derec realized that his fears the show might be unsuccessful were ungrounded, at least on that score. For he was dealing with robots, not humans who might vary their performances from time to time. Once the robots had grasped Derec’s meanings during rehearsal, they had never deviated from them. And tonight was no exception.
Needless to say, Canute had given away nothing during rehearsal. But tonight, during the performance, he played his role beautifully, almost brilliantly. He played Claudius as Derec would have liked to have instructed him to play the role, but had refrained for fear of tipping too much of his hand. Tonight Canute was arrogant, controlled, self-assured, guilt-ridden, and obsessed with holding onto what he imagined was rightfully his.
It was almost as if, having decided that it would weather the production without being exposed, Canute had mentally relaxed and had permitted itself to be swept down the same rapids.
Good, Derec thought during the second scene of the third act. Then the big surprise should work even more effectively.
For this was the scene of the play-within-the play, and before the “actors” began their “real”
performance, the script called for a dumbshow, a play without words, that mirrored the action of Hamlet. In the original, a king and queen passionately embrace, and then the queen leaves as the king sleeps. A third party enters, takes off the king’s crown and then pours poison into his ears. When the queen returns, she grieves for her dead husband, then is wooed by the poisoner, who quickly wins her love.
Derec figured that a rewrite of a pantomime was all right, since it didn’t involve changing any dialogue.
Besides, he’d read in the foreword to the text that Shakespeare’s plays had been frequently tampered with to make them more relevant (or seemingly so) to the world of the production.
But in the rewrite, the king built a tall building of sticks and cogs, to the tune of “Blue Goose.” The queen admired it, then left. And as the king gazed down upon his creation, the third party snuck up behind him and bashed him over the head with a big stick. The king fell down dead, and then the third party smashed the building. The Three Cracked Cheeks played “Stormy Weather.”
Derec applauded to indicate the dumbshow was over. When Ariel looked at him, asking with her eyes what was happening, Derec merely shrugged, but watched Canute as he said his lines. After the actors resumed their performance, Canute acted out the scenes of Claudius’s guilt no differently than before, after making allowances for the robot’s more “relaxed” attitude.
The rest of the play continued without special event. It proceeded until Hamlet died, Derec landing on the floor with a resounding thud, feeling pretty dead inside himself. Poor Lucius! The first creative robot in history was going to be unavenged.
Well. I’m not through yet, thought Derec, lying on the floor as the robots wrapped up the last scene of the play. I can literally take Canute apart if I want to — and I think I will.
Derec stood up as the curtain fell and looked at everyone in anticipation. “Well — how do you think it went?”
“Forgive me, master,” said Canute, drawing itself up to its full height almost like a prideful human, “but if you will permit a subjective opinion, I think the production was an utter failure.”
Chapter 9
THE COMPANY HAS COMPANY
“WHAT DO YOU mean, this play has been a failure?” demanded a livid Ariel. “The production was smooth, very believable,” she added, looking at Derec.
At the moment Derec was too busy being defensive to respond verbally, but he nodded gratefully. Most of the cast and crew had gathered around them behind the curtain, and nearly all were talking to one another. Things were too jumbled for Derec to make much sense of it. He was feeling lost, anyway. The play was over, and he had to go back to being his real self.
“Quiet, everyone, listen!” said Canute in raised tones.
They obeyed, and heard only silence from the audience hidden by the curtain.
“You see?” said Canute after a moment. “There is no response whatsoever. I have been vindicated: robots are not artistic, nor can they respond to art. It is perhaps unfortunate that your friend Lucius cannot be here to notice.”
“Forgive me, friend Canute,” said Harry, “but you have overlooked one fact: no one has ever mentioned to robots how they should respond. If I know my fellows, they are sitting there in their chairs, wondering what they should do next.”
Benny said, “Excuse me, I must communicate through my comlink.”
A few seconds later the house was filled with thunderous metallic applause. It went on and on and on.
M334 gestured to a stagehand to raise the curtain so the cast could take a bow. And as the cast did so, Harry said to Canute, “You see? They liked it!”
“They are merely being polite,” said Canute without conviction.
“Congratulations, master,” said Mandelbrot. “It seems the play is a success.”
Derec couldn’t resist a smile, though whether it was because of the play or because an overjoyed Ariel was hugging him, he couldn’t say. “I just hope it came off as well on the holoscreens.”
“It should have,” said Ariel. “I told Wolruf to concentrate on my best profile. The robots should be mesmerized by my beauty forever!”
They won’t be the only ones, Derec thought as he and the cast and crew took the first of several bows.
Still the applause went on and on; it seemed it would never stop.
But suddenly it did, and the robots all turned their heads around as a diminutive figure walked down an aisle.
A diminutive human figure, a stunned Derec realized.
A figure who was a roundish man with baggy trousers, an oversized coat, and a white shirt with a ruffled collar. He had long wavy white hair and a bushy mustache, and an intense expression that implied he wa
s capable of remarkable feats of concentration. When he reached the bottom of the aisle, he stopped, stared angrily at the people and robots on stage, put his arms to his hips, and said, “What is going on here? What kind of game are you playing with my robots?”
“By the seven galaxies!” Derec exclaimed. “You must be Dr. Avery!”
“Who else?” the man asked.
Chapter 10
ALL ABOUTAVERY
“I WANT TO see you — you — you — and you,” said Avery, walking onstage and pointing in turn at Derec, Ariel, Wolruf, and Mandelbrot. “Is there some place in this rather grandiose structure where we can meet in private?”
Almost immediately, Derec decided there was something he didn’t like about the man. No, he had to take that back. Something about Avery made Derec feel uncomfortable and uncharacteristically meek.
Perhaps it was Avery’s air of cool superiority, or the manner in which he assumed his authority would be taken for granted.
Even so, Derec decided that cooperation was his best option for the moment. Avery must have gotten here somehow; his Key to Perihelion could take Ariel away, or perhaps his ship would be large enough for more than one person, so at least Ariel would have the chance to get the medical help Derec had so far been unable to provide. For that reason, if for no other, Derec steeled himself and said, “We can go to my dressing room, backstage.”
Avery nodded, as if deeply considering the serious ramifications of the suggestion. “Excellent.”
In the room, Avery calmly demanded to know who everyone was, and how they had gotten there.
Derec saw no reason to conceal the truth, at least the greater portion of it. He told Avery how he had awoken bereft of memory in the survival pod on the mining colony, how he had discovered Ariel, and how they had made their way to Robot City. He described his encounter with the alien who had instructed him to build Mandelbrot, and how Wolruf had broken away from her servitude. He told Avery how he had deduced the flaw in the programming that was causing the city to self-destruct by expanding at an insupportable speed, how they had found a murdered body that was an exact duplicate of Derec, and how he and Ariel had saved the marooned Jeff from becoming a paranoid schizophrenic for the rest of his life when his brain had been placed in a robot’s body. Finally, he recounted what little he had learned about Lucius; and how Lucius had created Circuit Breaker the same night of the robot’s untimely demise.
“That’s when I decided to put on a performance of Hamlet”’ said Derec, “in order to uncover the killer.
But so far it seems my schemes have had no effect on the robot Canute, so I still have no idea why it did what I suspect it did. I’ve no proof, however, that even my theory is correct. I guess when all is said and done, I just hadn’t thought things through enough.”
Avery nodded, but said nothing. His expression was rather stem, but otherwise noncommital. Derec really had no idea of how Avery was reacting to the chronicling of all these events.
“So you programmed this city all by yourself?” said Ariel casually. She was sitting on a couch with her legs crossed, still in costume. The effect was rather disconcerting, since although she had dropped her character completely, Derec was still visually cued to think of her as Ophelia. “I bet you never suspected for a moment that it would take on all these unprecedented permutations.”
“What I suspected would happen is my business,” replied Avery as tonelessly as a robot.
“Iss tha’ rud-ness nexessaree?” said Wolruf. “Esspecially to one who did so much to presserrve ‘ur inven’shon.”
“Preserve it?” said Avery incredulously. Suddenly he began pacing back and forth around the room in an agitated fashion. “It remains to be seen whether my designs have been preserved or not. One thing is clear, though, and that’s that something unusual is going on, something I think you may have made even worse.”
“Forgive me if I seem presumptuous,” said Mandelbrot, who was standing next to the doorway, “but logic informs me that it is your absence that has had the most undesirable effect on the city. My master and his friends did not wish to come here or to stay, and they have dealt with the developments as best they knew how. Indeed, logic also informs me that perhaps your absence was part of your basic plan.”
Avery glared at the robot. “Close down,” he said curtly.
“No, Mandelbrot, you shall do nothing of the sort. That is a direct order.” Derec looked at Avery. “He is mine, and his first allegiance is to me.”
Avery smiled. “But all the other robots in the city owe their first allegiance to me. I could have them enter and dismantle him if I wished.”
“That is very true,” said Ariel. “But what would you say if I told you that one of your robots has a desire to be a stand-up comedian?”
Wolruf said, “Wheneverr hear joke, know firrss’ hand trrue meanin’ of sufferrin ‘.”
“I have no qualms about attesting to that,” said Mandelbrot.
“You’re irrational — all of you!” Avery whispered.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” said Ariel. “I see,” said Avery. “I know you — the Auroran who had the liaison with a Spacer.”
“And I was contaminated as a result,” said Ariel. “Does this mean I’ve become famous? I’m not ashamed of what I did — but then again, I’m not especially proud of my disease, either. I’m slowly going mad, and I’ve got to get off this world to obtain the proper medical attention.”
“I could use some myself,” said Derec. “I’d like to know who I am.”
“Naturally,” said Avery. But he said nothing else, and the others waited for several seconds, each thinking that he would add the words they hoped to hear. “But I have other plans,” he finally said off-handedly.
“What other plans?” Derec exclaimed, making a frantic gesture. “What could possibly be more important than getting Ariel to a doctor?”
But Avery said nothing. He merely sat down in a chair and crossed his legs. He robbed his face and then ran his hand through his hair. His brows knitted as if he was concentrating deeply, but exactly about what remained a mystery.
“Excuse me, Dr. Avery, but being examined by a diagnostic robot was no help,” said Ariel. “I need human attention as quickly as possible.”
“Perhaps a diagnostic robot native to the city will better know what to look for,” said Avery, “which after all is half the battle when it comes to medicine.”
“Unfortunately, Dr. Avery, that seems not to be the case,” said Mandelbrot. “Mistress Ariel was examined by Surgeon Experimental 1 and Human Medical Research 1 during the recuperation of Jeff Leong from his experimental surgery. They were able to determine only that her illness was beyond their abilities of diagnosis and treatment. They have not been affected by the strangely intuitive thinking that is rapidly becoming endemic in this place, possibly because they were first activated after the near-disaster from which Master Derec saved Robot City.”
“You’re sure of that?” Derec asked.
“Not as to the cause, but that they have remained as they were, yes. I have maintained regular contact with them,” the robot responded. “They are working on the blood and tissue samples that Mistress Ariel left with them, but have made no breakthroughs.”
“Then I was right.” Derec pounded a fist into his other hand. “The only way we can make any progress on a cure is if we add one of the intuitive robots to the medical team.”
“I don’t think so,” said Avery coldly. “In fact, all this so-called intuitive thinking is going to come to a halt rather quickly, as soon as I figure out how to stop it. It’s too unpredictable. It must be studied under controlled conditions. Strictly controlled conditions, without robots running around telling jokes.”
“That’s just too bad,” said Derec. “Ariel is going to be cured, one way or the other, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Avery’s eyes widened. Staring silently at Derec for several moments, he rapped his finge
rs on the makeup table and crossed and uncrossed his feet. The actions weren’t nervous, but they were agitated.
“Friend Derec, this city is mine. I created it. I own it. There is no one who understands it better than me.”
“Then you should be able to explain quite easily some of the things that have been going on here,” Derec snapped.
Avery dismissed the notion with a wave. “Oh, I will, when it’s convenient.”
“Iss that why ‘u crreated it?” Wolruf asked pointedly, her lip curling
“And I can dissect you if I wish,” replied Avery evenly. ‘The fact that you’re the first alien in human captivity almost demands it as the proper scientific response.”
“Don’t even think about it”’ said Derec. “First, Wolruf isn’t in captivity; she’s our friend. We won’t let you so much as X-ray her without her express permission. Understand?”
“The robots accept me as their primary master, and I bet they’ve already decided that she isn’t human.
After all, she doesn’t remotely look or act human.”
“But she is as intelligent as a human, and a robot would certainly be influenced by that,” countered Derec. “Your robots just might find themselves unable to complete your orders.”
“Only the more intelligent ones,” said Avery. “There are many grades of intelligence here, and I can restrict my orders to the lowest forms in the eventuality of any conflicts in that area.”
“I think you’re underestimating his ability to take control”, countered Ariel for Derec.
Avery smiled. “Your friend seems to have great confidence in you,” he said to Derec. “I hope it is justified.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have without some ability to turn an unfortunate development around to my advantage,” said Derec.
“He’ss had help,” said Wolruf.
“I, too, have assisted him, as much as robotically possible,” said Mandelbrot, “and shall continue to do so as long as I am functioning. Thanks to Master Derec, I have learned much of what human beings mean by the word ‘friend’.”
