Suspicion iarc-2

by Mike Mcquay

  “I swear to you that I am innocent,” Derec said.

  “Humans lie,” the robot answered. “Now, do you still wish me to be the one to ‘appreciate’ your position?”

  “Yes,” Derec answered firmly. “I ask only that I be given the opportunity to show you that I have the best interests of Robot City at heart. I am innocent, and the truth will free me.”

  “Well said. What do you want to know.”

  “You are the first supervisor,” Derec said. “What are your first recollections?”

  “I was awakened by a utility robot we call 1-1,” Avernus said, his red photocells fixed on Derec. “1-1 had already awakened fifty other utility machines. I awakened with a full knowledge of who and what I was: a semi-autonomous robot whose function was to supervise the mines for city building, and to supervise the building of other supervisors to fulfill various tasks.”

  “Were you programmed to serve humans?”

  “No,” Avernus said quickly. “We were programmed with human information, both within us and within the core unit, which was also operational when I was awakened. Our decision to service was one we arrived at independently.”

  “Could that be the reason that the robots here have been less than enthusiastic about Katherine and me?” Derec asked. “Not knowing human reality, you accepted an ideal that was impossible for us to live up to.”

  “That is, perhaps, true,” Avernus agreed.

  “How long ago did your awakening take place?”

  “A year ago, give or take.”

  “And did you see any human beings, or have knowledge of any, at that time?”

  “No. Our first action was the construction of the Compass Tower. After that, we began our philosophical deliberations as to our purpose in the universe.”

  “How about 1-1? Did he have any contact with humans?”

  “It never occurred to us to ask,” Avernus said.

  “Where is 1-1 now?” Derec asked, feeling himself working toward something.

  “In the tunnels,” Avernus said, gesturing toward the elevators. “1-1 works the mines.”

  Derec jumped off the makeshift seat. “Take me there,” he said.

  “Security… ” the robot began.

  “I’m a human being,” Derec said. “This world was designed for me and my kind. I’m sorry, Avernus, but if you exist to serve, it’s time you started to act like it. If you respect your own philosophies, you must accept the fact that your security measures were not designed to keep you secure from human beings. If they were, there is something desperately wrong with your basic philosophy.”

  “It is dangerous in the mines,” Avernus replied.

  “You can protect me.”

  The robot stood looking between Derec and the elevator doors. “I must deny you the central core,” he said at length. “I must deny you knowledge of our emergency measures. But you are a human being, and this is your world to share with us. I will take you to 1-1 and protect you. If, at some point, protecting you means sending you back to the surface, I will do that.”

  “Fair enough,” Derec said, looking at his watch. “We must go.”

  They moved toward the elevators, Rec joining them within the large car. In deference to the supervisor, the other robots let them have the car to themselves. Avernus pushed a stud in the wall and the door closed. The car started downward.

  It went down a long way.

  “The trick to movement in the mines is deliberation,” Avernus said, as the car shuddered to a stop.

  “Deliberation,” Derec repeated.

  The door slid open to delirious activity. Thousands of utility robots moved through a huge cavern that stretched as far as Derec could see in either direction. A continuous line of train cars rolled past on movable tracks, delivering raw ore to the giant smelters that refined it to more workable stages where it was heated and alloyed with other materials. The ceiling was thirty-five meters high and cut from the raw earth. Clean rooms filled the space at regular intervals.

  “Iron!” Avernus said, stretching his arms wide. “The foundation upon which the ferrous metals are based, from which the modern world is made possible. We mine it in huge quantities, using it in its raw state to make our equipment, and alloyed with special plastics to form our city. There!”

  He pointed to a machine through which layers of iron were belt-feeding, together with imprinted patterns of micro-circuits. The congealed mass issued from the top of the machine and proceeded through the ceiling in a continuous ribbon, the building material that Derec had seen extruded on the surface.

  “That is the stuff of Robot City,” Avernus said. “Iron and plastic alloy, cut with large amounts of carbon, and using carbon monoxide as a reducing agent. The ‘skin’ is then imprinted with millions of micro-circuits per square meter. In centimeter, independent sections, the ‘skin’ is alive with robotic intelligence, geared to human needs and protection. The whole is pre-programmed to build and behave in a prescribed fashion, and to react to human needs as they arise.”

  “That’s why the walls give when I push on them,” Derec said, moving gingerly out of the elevator and staying close to Avernus.

  “Exactly. Now remember, deliberation. Stay close.”

  Avernus moved out into the middle of the furious activity, machines and robots and train cars rushing quickly all around them. As Avernus stepped into the path of onrushing vehicles, Derec froze, wanting to pull back. But the expected accidents never took place, the robots and their machines gauging all the actions around them and reacting perfectly to them.

  That’s when the concept of deliberation became clear to Derec. Movement needed to be deliberate, with constant forward momentum. All judgment was based on the idea that movement would be steady and could be avoided once gauged. It was the erratic movement that was dangerous-the abrupt stop, the jump back; down here, such movements would be fatal.

  Once he understood the concept, it became easier to walk into the path of on-rushing vehicles. And as they moved through the center of the great hall, Derec began to feel more comfortable.

  “Let me ask you a question,” he said to the big robot. “Did you invent the ‘skin’ of Robot City?”

  “No,” Avernus replied. “Its program was already within the central core.”

  “So its activities are all pre-programmed?”

  “Correct. All we did was use it once we decided to be of service to humanity.”

  They reached an edge of the hall, dozens of smaller tunnels branching off from it.

  “We ride now,” Avernus said, climbing into a cart that was far too small for his immense bulk. Derec and Rec climbed in with him, and Avernus started off right away, taking them down a barely lit tunnel.

  “This one looks deserted,” Derec said, and they hurried along at a fast clip.

  “It was, until two days ago,” Avernus said. “It is now, perhaps, going to save us.”

  “How?”

  “You will see.”

  They rode for several more minutes through the dark, going deeper into the earth. Then Derec heard activity ahead.

  “We are approaching,” Avernus said.

  “Approaching what?” Derec asked.

  Avernus turned a corner and they were suddenly confronted by a widening of the tunnel, several hundred robots working furiously within an ever-growing space, scooping out dirt into any available container or skid, anything that would move earth. They then would take the earth and move quickly with it down adjoining tunnels, refilling that which had been excavated sometime previously. Like an ant farm, they moved in graceful cooperation and determination, and standing atop a cart, looming above them, was Rydberg, silently pointing as he transmitted his orders by radio to the toiling robots.

  Avernus turned and looked at Derec. “Somewhere in there,” he said, “you will find 1-1.”

  Chapter 7. One-One

  Katherine’s first thought had been that it was a monument, but then she realized there were no monuments on Robot
City. It was set on a narrow pedestal about one hundred feet in the air. Located in the middle of a block, the city had simply built itself around the object in a semicircle, leaving it set apart from all other structures by a gap of fifty feet. She had spent several hours walking the changing topography of Robot City without success, but she stopped the moment she came upon this place. If she wanted to compare the workings of the living city to a human body, this room atop the pedestal was like a wound, sealing itself off with scar tissue to protect it from the vital workings of the rest of the body.

  It was no more than a room. Katherine stood at ground level staring up at the thing. A box, perhaps five meters square, totally enclosed. The robots took the workings of their city for granted and simply accepted this anomaly. To the creative eye, it stuck out like a solar eclipse on a bright afternoon.

  Katherine continued to stare up at it because she didn’t want to lose it. Even now, the city continued to move, to grow before her eyes, and as the buildings turned in their slow waltz of life, she turned with them, always keeping the room within her vision. Eve, meanwhile, was trying to round up a supervisor who could effect a means of getting inside the structure and checking it out.

  During the course of this excursion, Katherine had begun to develop a grudging respect for the workings of the city. Obviously, things were not going well right now, but in the long run such a system could be quite beneficial to the humans and robots who inhabited it. The safety factor alone made the system worthwhile. Derec’s harrowing ride down through the aqueduct resulted in nothing more than fatigue and a few bruises, all because the system itself was trying to protect him. To Katherine’s mind, such a journey on Aurora would have caused Derec’s death. She smiled at the thought of a Derec-proof city.

  She’d also had time, while waiting for Eve to reach a supervisor, to notice the changes taking place around her. She felt as if she were visiting a resort at the tail end of the off season, all the seasonal workers arriving and getting the place shipshape for the influx of visitors. Clocks were being installed in various parts of the city, and street signs were beginning to go up. The largest change taking place, however, was the increased production and distribution of chairs. Robots had no need for sitting or reclining, and chairs were at a premium; but as they tried to make their city as welcome as possible for humans, they worked diligently to do things just right, despite the fact that the city’s emergency measures were forcing many of them into extra duty. She wondered if she’d be this gracious if it were her city. The thought humbled her a bit.

  Despite the differences, despite the bind the robots had put them in, they really were trying to make this world as perfect as they could for the travelers, travelers whom they suspected of murder. She had never before considered just how symbiotic the binding of humans to robots really was and, at least for the robots, how essential. She hoped that they would, eventually, have their civilization, complete with humans to order them around stupidly. She found herself smiling again. Her mother had a phrase that could apply to the robots’ longing for human companionship-a glutton for punishment.

  She heard a noise behind her and turned, expecting to see a supervisor arriving. Instead she saw two utility robots moving toward her, carrying between them what looked for all the world like a park bench. Without a word, they moved right up to her and placed the bench just behind. She sat, and they hurried off.

  She sat for barely a decad before Arion came clanking around a corner, along with a utility robot with a bulky laser torch strapped on his back. It took her back for a second, a seeming replay of the scene Eve had described to her when David had first become trapped in the sealed room.

  “Good afternoon, Friend Katherine,” Arion said as he moved up to her. “I see you are taking advantage of one of our chairs to rest your body. Very good.”

  “What’s that on your wrist,” Katherine asked, “a watch?”

  The supervisor held up his arm, displaying the timepiece. “A show of solidarity,” he said.

  “You’re in charge of human-creative functions on Robot City, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Human-creative is a redundant term,” Arion replied. “Creativity is the human stock-in-trade. I hope you’ve found satisfactory the entertainments I’ve provided for you.”

  “We’ll talk about that later,” she answered.

  “Of course.”

  “I thank you for coming so promptly,” Katherine said.

  “This is a priority matter,” the robot said, gazing up at the sealed room. “You believe this to be the location of the body?”

  “I’m certain of it.”

  “Very good. Let’s take a closer look.”

  Katherine stood and walked to the base of the tower with Arion. The pedestal was approximately the size of a large tree trunk, just large enough that she could almost reach around it if she tired. Arion reached out and touched the smooth, blue skin, and magically a spiral staircase with railing jutted from the surface and wound around the exterior of the tower.

  “After you,” the robot said politely.

  Katherine started up, the design of the staircase keeping her from any sense of vertigo. As she climbed, she could feel that the air was cooling down, the presage to another night of destructive rain. Behind her, Arion, the utility robot, and the witness followed dutifully, and she realized that she was in the lead because it was the natural position for her in regard to this inquiry. This was her notion, her case-the robots at this point were merely her willing cohorts. Finally, she could give orders again and have them carried out!

  She reached the top quickly. The flat disc of the pedestal top curled up and inward all around to make it impossible for her to fall off. That left the room itself. Uncolored, it was a natural gray-red and perfectly square. She walked completely around it looking for entry, but her first assessment had been correct: it was locked up tight.

  “What do you propose at this point?” Arion asked her, as he followed her around the perimeter of the room.

  “We’re going to have to get inside,” she said, “and see what there is to see. I suppose there’s no other way to get in except by using the torch?”

  “Normally, this situation would never arise,” Arion told her. “There are no other buildings in the city that behave like this. There is no reason to seal up a room.”

  “You mean you don’t know why or how the rooms have sealed themselves up?”

  “The city program was given to us intact through the central core, and only the central core contains the program information. Other than through observation, we don’t know exactly how the city operates.”

  Katherine was taken aback. “So, the city is actually a highly advanced autonomous robot in its own right, operating outside of your control.”

  “Your statement is basically inaccurate, but containing the germ of truth,” Arion said. “To begin with, it is not highly advanced, at least not in the same sense that a… supervisor robot, for example, is highly advanced.”

  “Do I detect a shade of rivalry here?” she asked.

  “Certainly not,” Arion said. “We are not capable of such feelings as competitiveness. I was simply stating a known fact. Furthermore, the city’s autonomy is tied directly to the central core. Although it does, in fact, operate outside of supervisor control.”

  “Can you affect the city program, then?”

  “Not directly,” Arion said, running his pincers up and down the contours of the building as if checking for openings. “The central core controls the city program, and the supervisors do not make policy by direct programming.”

  “I think I’m beginning to truly understand,” Katherine said, motioning for the robot with the torch to come closer. “The data contained in the central core is the well from which your entire city springs. All of your activities here are merely an extension of the programming contained therein, for good or ill.”

  “We are robots, Friend Katherine,” Arion said. “It could not be otherwise.
Robots are not forces of change, but merely extensions of extant thought. That is why we so desperately need the companionship of humans.”

  “Cut here,” Katherine said pointing to the wall, and the utility robot waited until she had backed away to a safer distance before charging the power packs and moving close with the nozzle-like hose that was the business end of the laser torch. She turned to Arion. “Does cutting through the wall like this break contact with the main program?”

  “No,” the robot answered as the torch came on with a whine, its beam invisible as a small section of the wall glowed bright red, smoking slightly. “The synapses simply reroute themselves and make connection elsewhere.”

  There was a sound of suction as the torch broke through to the other side of the wall, a sound that any Spacer knew well, the rushing of air into a vacuum. The room had sealed totally and airlessly. The torch moved more quickly now, cutting a circular hole just large enough for a human being to get through without working at it.

  The edges tore jaggedly, the walls that seemed so fluid under program fighting tenaciously to hold together otherwise. Despite Arion’s claims, Katherine was still the city-robot.

  The welder was halfway done, pulling down the jagged slab of city as he cut. Katherine had to fight down the urge to run up and peer through the opening already made, but her fear of the torch ultimately won out over her impatience.

  “Are you capable of doing autopsies here?” she asked Arion as an afterthought.

  “The medical programming is in existence, and at this very moment several medically trained robots are being turned out of our production facilities, along with diagnostic tables and a number of machines. Synthesized drugs and instruments are coming at a slower rate. So much of the city is geared toward building right now, and these considerations never became a problem for us until David’s death.”

  “Done,” the utility robot said, the cut section falling to clang on the base disc.