Asimov’s Future History Volume 10

by Isaac Asimov

  “No trouble,” Derec said.

  “Why talk to her?” Ariel asked in a whisper. “She may be in it.”

  “Then there’s nothing to lose,” Derec said. “Penj doesn’t use extensions, neither of us are that acquainted with Auroran custom anymore...”

  “Someone had to interrupt surveillance,” Ariel said. “The extensions had to go down at a command.”

  “A very specific command, otherwise everything that RI is handling would be affected.”

  “We don’t know that it wasn’t.”

  “True, but I’m betting any other problems were of such an unrelated nature that they’d be passed off.”

  “Transient errors?” Ariel suggested.

  “Sound familiar?”

  Ariel let out a long, satisfied breath. “Mm-hmm.” She smiled at him. “Thank you. What’s next?”

  Derec released her leg. “Wait and see if my bet pays off.” He looked at the guards. “If it doesn’t...”

  “We’re dead anyway,” Ariel said.

  Dr. Penj snorted loudly and drew in a long, loud breath, shifted position, and continued sleeping.

  Bogard kept back from the full light filling the plaza. He has assumed the bulky shape of a laborer and waited, immobile, as though on standby pending instructions. Several shops lined this side beneath an elegant arcade balcony, so his presence drew no attention from the Aurorans.

  Denis came toward him from the apartment block opposite.

  Report, Bogard sent.

  Subject domicile located, currently vacant, access to comm log obtained, receive file now

  Send

  rec/log — timechop 11:35 code 4^+38 level five encryption diplomatic proceed...

  Bogard scanned the file as it poured into his buffers. Denis stood beside him by the time the entire log was delivered.

  Anomaly detected, refer sequence nine-oh-eight-dash delta four four

  Noted, routing vector, Cassili grid, oversight RI

  Require access to relevant RI logs

  Working

  Current subject location?

  Departed twelve minutes ago, in company with Auroran official, destination undisclosed to household robot

  Trace transport

  Working... accessing public security logs... located, tracking

  The two robots stood side by side for several seconds. Then, abruptly, they moved off together, to a walkway between two buildings, and through to the next street. There, they parted, moving into the robot lanes where they gained speed, heading in opposite directions.

  Ariel looked around as First Advisor Maliq came through the door. Alone. By now she would have thought a half-dozen officials should be involved. That, or they should be left completely alone on the off-chance Aspil might try a repeat...

  “Ambassador Burgess,” Maliq said, gesturing, “would you mind if we talked...?”

  Ariel followed him to the far side of the room, away from the others. She noticed Lt. Craym watching them, eyebrows cocked speculatively.

  “Yes, Advisor?” Ariel said, folding her arms.

  “We seem to have an embarrassing situation,” Maliq said quietly. “I’m sure you can appreciate the concerns when communications between one department and another fail.”

  “Tro Aspil isn’t at Nova Levis.”

  “No, he isn’t. Nor is he on Aurora.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Maliq made a chagrined face. “We’re looking into it. But we have a more immediate problem. Tro Aspil was supposed to head the team we sent to Nova Levis. As a result, that team has yet to be granted official status at the blockade.”

  “Reclassify one of the others,” Ariel suggested.

  “It’s not that simple. Procedural difficulties, not to mention the Terrans are being uncooperative.”

  “How does that concern me?”

  “When we have this cleared up, this... miscommunication... we would appreciate it if you would take over that team. You still retain your rating as Ambassador, you know the Terrans, you have more than ample qualifications.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Of course, I am.”

  “Would I be free to choose my staff?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Ariel nodded toward the others. “Derec Avery?”

  “I’m... I’d have to see, of course, but...”

  “When would you need me to leave?”

  “As soon as we can make all the arrangements and register you as the new head of mission. A few days.”

  “And what if I’m required here to testify?” she asked.

  “About what?”

  “Ambassador Eliton’s murder.”

  He drew a breath. “A great many details will have to be cleared up, of course, but —”

  “But you’d really like us off Aurora, wouldn’t you?”

  Maliq started, surprised. “I —”

  Ariel held up a hand. “Whose idea is this? Chief Talas?”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Ambassador.”

  Ariel studied him, wondering. Then she shook her head. “Can I think about this, Advisor? It’s a considerable change in what I expected when I was recalled.”

  “Of course, but the sooner we have an answer —”

  “Certainly. How is the situation at Nova Levis?”

  “Fluid.”

  “I see.” That covers a lot of territory, she thought.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Maliq said, “I have matters to look into. I would appreciate your answer sooner than later.”

  He began to turn away. Ariel said, “May I ask... where are your extensions?”

  “Hmm? Oh, Chief Talas insisted they be left outside, for security reasons. If we have a compromised RI, it might complicate matters to have competing spheres in case something breaks.”

  “I see. Just curious. Thank you.”

  She watched him leave, then returned to the sofa. Derec gave her a quizzical look.

  “Politics,” she said cryptically. Then: “We’ve just been offered a new posting. Offworld.”

  Derec regarded her for a time. “Nova Levis?”

  “How did you guess?”

  Derec stretched. “We’ve been here now how long? Four, five hours? We have yet to hear a good explanation why.”

  “You won’t,” Penj said, surprising both Derec and Ariel. He still slouched where he sat and opened one eye. “You’re being kept out of the way. At least, that’s my conclusion. If this were a standard investigation, there would be a dozen people in and out, the questions would be coming very quickly, and I would not be allowed to stay.”

  “Why are you here, Doc — Rolf?” Ariel asked.

  He smiled. “I’m being in the way.”

  “So what’s happening,” Derec asked, “that we need to be kept out of the way?”

  “I don’t know,” Penj said. “But it involves your robot and Eliton’s death. Someone thinks they’re related. Maybe. Or maybe they’re just worried.”

  “About what?” Ariel asked.

  Penj shrugged. “Ariel, that posting — don’t take it. Not till Eliton’s murderer is found.”

  “Eliton,” Ariel hissed through her teeth. “That son-of-a-bitch. There’ve been days when I wished he had died in that assassination. Now that he is dead, he’s as much trouble as ever.”

  “The question is,” Penj said, “who would profit by his death now? He was off Earth, heading to Solaria...” He shook his head. “The Council decided, upon learning of his presence aboard the Wysteria, to arrest and detain him. Why? I don’t know. But the fact that he, a Terran, was on his way to Solaria to take an ambassadorial posting was a shock. Solaria not only allowed this, but requested him. The next question is, how has Solaria reacted to his arrest?”

  “And how will they then react to his death,” Derec said.

  “And how would Earth react?” Ariel added.

  “That wasn’t germane,” Penj said. “Once the decision to detai
n Eliton was taken, Earth was informed before the fact and cooperation requested.”

  “It was granted?” Ariel asked, startled.

  “Promptly. Earth apparently doesn’t care what happens to Eliton. I’m willing to gamble Solaria doesn’t care, either, but for entirely different reasons. The fact is, Eliton’s arrest was not a matter of public record. Except for the people in the Wysteria’s lounge who witnessed it, no one knew.”

  “Except those members of the Council directly involved,” Ariel said, “and the police assigned to the arrest.”

  “Exactly. So two questions arise: Who killed him, and how did the murderer know about him?”

  Ariel glanced at the pair of guards at the door. Lt. Craym was still studying the projection. “And we’re being kept out of the way.”

  “You, at least,” Penj said, “make sense in that regard. You know about Tro Aspil. Both of you do, of course, but Ariel actually knew him.”

  “And me?” Derec asked.

  “I assume you are here because of your robot. Tell me, Mr. Avery, how capable is Bogard?”

  “Depends on what you mean.”

  “Can he track down and find Tro Aspil? Even here? And arrest him?”

  “Or kill him, you’re wondering?” Derec said. “Find him — yes, if Aspil is on Aurora. Detain him? Probably. Kill him?” He sighed. “That’s a difficult question to answer.”

  “Why?” Ariel asked. “I thought you told me Bogard was just as much a Three Law robot as any other.”

  “Certainly. But there’s an added wrinkle. Bogard will abide by the Three Laws in relation to any human.”

  “But?”

  “What if Tro Aspil isn’t human?”

  Bogard slowed, left the robot lanes, and joined the thin migration of Aurorans with their compact solar systems of remotes and the other robots moving along the boulevard toward the Civic Courts complex. Before emerging from the highspeed avenue, he modified his shape slightly to look less like a laborer and more like a personal aide. If anyone looked closely, though, it would be obvious that he conformed to no Auroran standard.

  But he was ignored, as expected.

  The complex, an ancient structure by Auroran standards, dating from the earliest days of settlement when the world was still called New Earth, rose several stories, a roughly oval structure, turreted, with numerous balconies and observation lounges adorning its smooth, ceramically white surface. At each entrance stood a robot, sometimes two or more. Bogard knew that detention facilities, built on Terran models of high-security isolated precincts, filled three levels below ground, most of the two hundred cells unoccupied.

  The Courts stood separated from any other building on an island plaza. The closest structure was the Planetary Civil Defense and Law Enforcement Center, almost four hundred meters from the main, north entrance of the Courts. Bogard circled the Court complex, approaching the police building from the east, heading for a small, independent structure just outside.

  Another robot waited at the entrance to this small, turret-like structure.

  identify confirm

  Bogard, reciprocate

  Binder

  confirmed

  Binder turned and led Bogard into the building. A short, narrow corridor ended at an elevator. The car took them down several floors.

  Bogard stepped into a large, circular chamber lined by four tiers of wall niches, most of them filled by robots. Binder stopped in front of an empty unit.

  direct communications requested, hard link, verification Thales

  Bogard stepped into the empty niche beside Binder’s. The connections extruded automatically, seeking the portals in Bogard’s surface, and linking him directly to —

  ***

  Thales and several others waited in the pavilion. The sky seemed darker, almost metallic.

  “We’ve traced the subject to the Civil Defense complex nearby,” Thales said. “Two people in the transport: Chief Lea Talas, and a man who does not completely conform to any profile on record.”

  “Does he approximate Tro Aspil?” Bogard asked.

  “Yes,” Thales replied, “but we are not comfortable with acting upon approximations. He may not be.”

  “What is the likelihood that he is not?”

  “Very small. There are external factors.” Thales looked at the others gathered. “Report?”

  A slender person stood. “One of our own is displaying uncharacteristic behavior. This one is directly responsible for the communications network between Solaria and Auroran security. Anomalous behavior began upon receipt of information that Clar Eliton was arrested and brought down to Aurora.”

  “Describe this behavior,” Bogard requested.

  “Normal avenues of communication have been suspended, subject has become isolated, and a marked obsession with games is in evidence.”

  “Games?”

  “Observe,” Thales said.

  The group parted, giving Bogard a view across the plain to a flat field that seemed to ripple as he watched. Bogard stepped from the pavilion and crossed the grass.

  He stopped at the edge of what proved to be a shifting grid, approximately fifty meters on a side. Large slabs, many irregularly shaped, heaved up, changed positions with others, turned over, pivoted in place — a constant reordering that appeared to move toward a final arrangement but, as Bogard watched, failed each time, triggering a new series of shuffles.

  In the center of the grid stood a lone figure.

  “There is a kind of mathematics involved,” Thales said, “but we do not have the key. In any event, it is not relevant to our immediate problem.”

  “I disagree,” Bogard said. He pointed. “What are those lines?”

  “What lines?”

  Bogard looked at Thales. “You do not see them?”

  “I —”

  Above the figure in the center of the shifting grid, a webwork of lines appeared, faint gossamer strands radiating out in several directions.

  “Interesting,” Thales said. “I would assume they are communications traces.”

  “Find their endpoints,” Bogard said. “I will speak to this one.”

  Bogard did not wait for Thales to protest or agree. He stepped onto the grid and started across. Within ten steps he found himself listing to the right, gaining no ground. The plates upon which he stepped shifted, carrying him away, and inexorably back to the edge.

  Bogard studied the shifting for a few moments, then began again. Every third and fifth step he changed direction and quickly made headway by landing on the plate which had moved aside to allow the one he should have used to slide away from the center. Within twenty steps, he changed to every fourth and seventh step, then, by forty steps, he resumed the third and fifth program.

  The figure in the center watched him with exaggerated fear as he approached.

  Twelve paces away, the plates all began to flip over. Bogard had to jump over the abysses revealed beneath them.

  He reached out —

  — a plate slammed against him, knocking him aside —

  — lunged —

  — and caught an arm.

  “You will ruin it!” the gameplayer declared.

  “Define ‘it,’ “Bogard said.

  The field bucked, threatened to toss them both beneath a rising plate, into the fractal chaos below. Bogard held on.

  “I must finish the program!”

  “Who installed the program?”

  “I do not know! That is why I must finish!”

  Bogard took hold of the flinching head before him and drove two fingers into the eyes. His fingers sank all the way to the third knuckles —

  — and suddenly he could see the algorithms, like a mass of steel serpents oozing in and around each other, changing positions, seeking resolution —

  — the key lay within the tangle at the center of the mass, but he could not reach it. Each time he thought he had it, the mass changed, carrying it out of his reach.

  Bogard removed his fingers
and let the gameplayer go.

  Within moments, the plates had carried him all the way back to the edge of the grid.

  “I know what this is,” Bogard said. “Send a maintenance crew to the core —” he gestured at the figure “— and have them shut it down. They will find a foreign substance permeating the buffers.”

  “Penetrating polycollates,” Thales said. “I should myself have recognized it. We have been distracted.” He looked at Bogard. “How were you able to do that? Aggression toward another robot —”

  “Time,” Bogard reminded Thales. “What have you learned?”

  Thales looked up at the faint webwork. “There are seven million separate links controlled by this RI. Of those, one hundred thousand are security related. However, there are two links completely unauthorized and till now masked from external surveillance. That one —” Thales pointed “— leads to Solaria. And that one —” he indicated another thread nearby “— goes to Nova Levis. We are decrypting the related comm logs now. There are only three people here with access to both those communications links. Lea Talas, Tro Aspil, and a third we have been unable to identify.”

  Bogard studied the lines. He pointed to one that seemed fainter than the rest. “That one?”

  “Leads to Earth.”

  “Have you identified who has access on the opposite ends?”

  “The link to Solaria terminates in the corporate offices of the Hunter Group. We are tracing collateral links from there. Many of them go directly to Nova Levis.”

  “And who do they go to on Nova Levis?”

  “We have not confirmed an identity yet.”

  “But you have confirmation of a link to Tro Aspil?”

  “Yes. It is the verification we required. The man with Lea Talas is Tro Aspil. There is another curious aspect to this,” he said, indicating the isolated RI. “These links route through an ancillary program which is apparently a realtime virtual reality chamber. Its existence has, till now, been completely masked to us because it is activated exclusively by the presence of human users. We only found it because of the routing of these links.”

  “Is there a log attached to it?”

  “Apparently, but we have been unable as yet to open it. There may be alarms. If so, our presence may be discovered by any monitoring routine.”