by Isaac Asimov
“Wow.” Chad stared at him in shock.
“The local fish eat these all the time,” said Hunter, as he tied the insect to the line just above the hook. “I judge that since we are taking the risk of fishing anyway, this is the best bait to use. If we use something we brought with us, and it affects the water or is taken by a fish that gets away, we do not know what consequence may result.”
“I see,” said Chad, gently lowering his line into the water with his hands.
“I will bring you a dead branch you can use for a pole,” said Hunter.
“Thanks.”
Hunter moved to a half-fallen dead tree. As he grasped a meter-long branch and gently ripped it from the trunk, he questioned his wisdom in bringing the human team with him. If he had come to this time period alone, he could simply be chasing down MC 1 this minute.
Of course, he reminded himself, if a direct physical pursuit had failed for some reason, he would still have wanted Jane’s expert understanding of robotics and Chad’s knowledge of dinosaurs. So that line of consideration merely took him in a circle. Returning the humans to their own time and coming back here alone would be no solution either.
Hunter returned to Chad, handing him the branch without a word. Chad tied the line to end of the branch carefully, then grinned up at Hunter. “Now I just wait. Did you bring fishing materials for yourself too?”
“No need, I believe,” said Hunter. “I’ll find out.” He picked his way downstream several meters and then crouched on the bank. For a moment, he remained absolutely motionless except for his eyes as he watched dark shapes slipping lazily in the water below him.
Chad said nothing, watching him.
Once Hunter had studied the swimming motion and reflexes of the fish below him, he slowly moved his hand into the water and held it still. After a moment of warily darting away, the fish returned to their former movements. Then Hunter quickly reached down and grabbed one by the gills. In the same moment, he stood up, raising the wriggling fish out of the water and over the bank. It was big enough to eat.
“What do you think?”
“Wow,” Chad said again.
For most of the day, Steve tracked MC 1 steadily through the forest. In some areas the tracks were very clear. Sometimes he had to stop and look closely. They ate lunch at midday and plodded on.
Late in the afternoon, Steve stopped and turned to Jane. “I don’t know that we’re accomplishing anything. Have you seen anything important?”
“We’ve been zigzagging and circling all day, haven’t we?” Jane asked.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“MC 1 isn’t just running straight away, is he? For distance, I mean.”
“Well —” Steve stopped, considering. “I guess he isn’t. If we were chasing him with hounds, I’d say he was doubling back and crossing his own path to confuse the scent. But he must know that we didn’t bring any hounds. So I’m not sure why he’s doing this.”
“I suppose he might access stored data about creating evasive patterns under certain conditions. The one truth about studying a robot’s behavior is that it will be absolutely logical according to his own interpretation of his data and the Three Laws.”
Steve nodded.
“Can you tell how old the track is?”
“No. If we were talking about a difference of a day or so, I might be able to. But we know he’s been at normal size less than a day. I can’t judge the age of these tracks in hours.” He shrugged.
“I see.”
“Well, he’s still running.” Steve pointed to the robot’s footprints at their feet. “He’s humaniform, so he runs with essentially the same motion as a human. See how the front of the footstep is deeper than the rest of it?”
“Yes. The heel mark hardly shows at all.”
“His weight is all forward, meaning he’s running, and the tracks we’ve seen show that he’s been running most of time. He seems to stop sometimes, maybe to get his bearings or to avoid a predatory dinosaur. Still, he’s moving much faster than we are. We’ll never catch him without those mounts.”
“Well, didn’t I say we shouldn’t expect to? We came out here today to see what his habits are, that’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Steve said wearily. “But haven’t you seen anything yet?”
“Well, I see that he’s meandering all over the place. I just don’t know what it means yet.”
“Why not? You’re the robotics expert, aren’t you?” Steve grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his worksuit. “Isn’t this why Hunter brought along a sheltered, pampered intellectual?”
Jane’s face tightened. “It’s a sure thing you can’t figure out what he’s doing.”
“No one expects me to. In fact —” Steve stopped suddenly, looking at something ahead of them in the woods. He thought he saw two very human-looking eyes peering at him through the heavy foliage.
Jane looked too.
Suddenly MC 1 straightened up and slipped away through the underbrush.
“Stop!” Jane yelled. “I order you to stop! MC 1 — Mojave Center component robot! You have to stop!”
“Come on!” Steve started after him, shoving through some branches.
“Stop!” Jane yelled again, hurrying after him.
Steve had to protect his eyes from the leaves and branches he plunged into, pushing them aside with both hands, In only a few steps, however, he realized that the robot was out of sight again. The footsteps were as clear as before, but MC 1 was running again. They couldn’t possibly catch him.
Jane collided with Steve from behind.
“Take it easy,” said Steve. “He’s gone.”
She nodded, panting. “He still must have his hearing turned off, as I said yesterday. The Second Law wouldn’t have let him run away from me otherwise.”
“He was watching us,” said Steve. “He could be watching us right now.”
“He can’t hear us, though. He wouldn’t dare risk it.” Jane looked around, as if she could find him again. “I think that answers our question, though.”
“Huh? Which one?”
“About his route. He isn’t just trying to get away from us. I think his plan is to stay out of our control, but to keep an eye on us.”
“You mean he’s been watching us all day long?”
“I think so.”
“Why didn’t we see him before? Why now?”
“Chance, maybe,” said Jane. “Or maybe he got a little careless after escaping our notice all day long.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Steve grinned. “If we hadn’t followed him, he wouldn’t have gone anywhere. We could have saved ourselves a day-long hike.”
“Maybe so.” She smiled.
He looked up at the sun through the trees. “Well, that discovery is worth something. But we’re running out of daylight. Time to head back to camp while I can still remember the landmarks.”
From the R. Hunter files
The now-famous prototype of the highly successful “Hunter” class robot first demonstrated his remarkable abilities in the Mohave Center Governor case. The following images are drawn from the Robot City archives of Derec Avery, the eminent historian on robotics.
12
HUNTER HAD CAUGHT and cleaned enough fish for the humans’ next two meals during his first ten minutes of effort. Chad had taken his line out of the water, wryly observing that he was wasting his time. After that, the two of them had spent the afternoon sitting quietly, watching for dinosaurs.
When Hunter heard footsteps nearby, he quietly told Chad where to look. As they waited, they began to glimpse dinosaurs of all kinds up and down the stream, coming to the water to drink. The first one Hunter saw clearly was nearly five meters tall. It was a two-legged duck-billed creature, reaching up to munch on leaves as it worked its way toward the water.
Chad unclipped his belt computer, quickly punching in a description. “Small, bony crest on top of its head,” he muttered. “Duckbill, small hump
on its nose.”
As Hunter watched, the dinosaur moved to the water and bent down low to drink. Its long tall flipped up slightly in the back to help it keep its balance. Another one, slightly shorter, appeared behind it.
“Brachylophosaurus,” said Chad quietly. “Both of them. From the body type, I would say they aren’t much good for riding. They run leaning forward, but stand up high when they reach for food. No matter how we arranged the saddles, we’d fallout when they shift up and down.”
Hunter nodded. “Look downstream, on the opposite bank.”
A low, four-legged dinosaur had just slipped from the underbrush to drink from the stream. Its pear-shaped head was fairly small, ending in a sharp beak. However, its body looked huge; most of it was still hidden by the forest cover. What Hunter could see was covered with rows of thick, bony plates. Long spikes protected its sides and shoulders.
“Panoplosaurus,” Chad whispered, consulting his belt computer again. “Up to five and a half meters long, between two and three tons in weight.”
“From the length of its legs, I would say it couldn’t move fast enough to catch MC 1,” Hunter observed.
“I wouldn’t want to sit on one, anyway,” said Chad, with a grin.
As the day wore on, the majority of dinosaurs that came to the water were varieties of hadrosaurs, such as the brachylophosaurus, according to Chad. He eagerly identified all the different species, which varied in size and color. They had duckbills and crests of different shapes on top of their heads. The legs of the hadrosaurs were strong and heavy, ending in three-toed, hooved feet. Their forelimbs were medium-sized, with webbed, four-fingered hands. Chad quickly entered all the new details that he could see.
“They are remarkably unconcerned with our presence,” said Hunter. “My information on wild animals tells me that they are usually afraid of humans.”
“The remaining wild animals in our own time are descended from very wary, suspicious ancestors who managed to avoid being hunted and fished by humans for many generations,” said Chad, looking around for more dinosaurs.
“You think their behavior has changed through a form of selection, then.”
“Well, these dinosaurs don’t have any particular fear of us because humans have never existed around them before. They don’t even know what to think of us. I guess as long as we sit quietly, the herbivores will just keep their distance and get their drink of water.”
“Perhaps so.”
“None of the hadrosaurs are good for riding,” Chad said. “We need another type.”
“I think I hear a new pattern of footsteps,” said Hunter, suddenly lowering his voice. “Closer to that of the stegoceras, but of a larger beast. Look upstream, on this side.”
They remained silent for a moment. A dinosaur’s dark green head appeared through the leaves. It moved slowly, looking around. Then it leaned down to drink from the stream.
“Another velociraptor?” Hunter whispered.
Chad shook his head. “No, it’s just very similar in appearance. That’s the struthiomimus we’ve been looking for.”
“Wait here.” Hunter took his lasso from his shoulder. “I can move more quietly, I think. I will circle behind him and lasso him. Be ready to jump up and run to me. We will need both loops on him.”
Chad nodded.
Hunter shifted into a very detailed sensory mode, in which he used his eyesight to analyze the plants and soil on the ground and the branches in front of him. With his instant reflexes, he judged exactly where to place his feet and how to move through the branches and leaves with maximum stealth. He only had to walk slightly more slowly than usual to do this. A human would have had to slow down considerably.
The struthiomimus drank from the water, then lifted its head on its very long neck to listen. Hunter stopped. When it lowered its head to drink again, he moved forward.
Hunter came up behind it. The struthiomimus was a two-legged dinosaur about two meters tall. Its neck represented almost half its total height. Hunter adjusted the loop on his lasso and waited.
The biggest problem in throwing the lasso was not just missing the dinosaur, but having tree branches get in the way. Hunter carefully studied the small clear area through which he could make his toss. He was ready by the time the struthiomimus finally turned away from the stream, back toward him.
Hunter judged the precise moment to throw his loop and tossed it with his finest control. As the struthiomimus turned to look at the movement of the rope, the loop fell over its head and all the way down its neck. The dinosaur pulled back, turning to run.
“Now!” Hunter shouted, flinging the free end of his rope around a tree. He wound it around the big tree trunk once, just before the fleeing dinosaur pulled the rope taut. Then Hunter hung on to the rope, using the tree trunk as a brace.
“I’m coming!” Chad ran crashing through the underbrush, swinging his lasso.
“This way,” Hunter called. “Hold this rope and give me your lasso.”
“I’ll do it!” Chad dodged around a couple of trees and moved toward the struthiomimus, which was trampling the bushes and crashing against the trees in an effort to pull away.
“Stop!” Hunter screamed frantically. “It’s too dangerous!”
“It’s okay! He’s already roped.” Chad slowed down, approaching the raging dinosaur.
Hunter couldn’t allow Chad to go any closer. Impelled by the First Law, Hunter quickly tied his rope into a knot and ran after Chad. “Chad, you must stop!”
The struthiomimus was straining its narrow neck against the rope, too panicked to pay any attention to Chad. Its heavy body was snapping young trees in half and its feet were flattening the underbrush. Chad, showing more courage than common sense, stood his ground and reared back to throw his lasso.
Hunter saw that Chad was close enough to be trampled if the terrified dinosaur suddenly shifted in his direction. To move him as fast as possible, Hunter flung himself forward in a flying tackle carefully gauged to bring Chad down without hurting him by the impact. He grabbed Chad around the waist, then turned so that as they hit the ground, Hunter’s body cushioned Chad’s.
“Stay there,” Hunter ordered, leaping up and snatching away the rope. “If you do not keep yourself safe, I will have to cut it free so it cannot hurt you.”
Chad just nodded.
Hunter moved up on the dinosaur quickly. This time, with its movements confined, lassoing it was even easier. Hunter tied the second rope securely to another tree and returned to the first rope to tie it more securely. The struthiomimus pulled against the ropes, but Hunter could see that they would hold.
“Now what do we do?” Chad had stood up now, but dutifully remained where Hunter had told him to stay.
“When he calms down, we have to move him to the corral,” said Hunter. “How long do you think that will take?”
“What do I think?” Chad shook his head. “Nothing in the fossil record can predict his emotional state. All we can do is wait and see what he does.”
“All right.” Hunter looked through the trees in the direction of the camp. “We are not strong enough to pull him by hand in any direction he does not want to go.”
“Then how do we make him come with us?”
“When he is calm, I will untie one rope at a time. While he is braced by the other rope, we will pull him or coax him with food to follow us. Then we will retie the lead rope to a tree trunk and do the same with the other one. The tree trunks are close enough for us to move him that way.”
“That could take a long time.”
Hunter looked up at the sun. “We have several hours of daylight.”
Steve and Jane returned to camp first. When the setting sun turned red, Steve began preparing dinner. Even when it was ready, Hunter and Chad still had not returned.
“Maybe Hunter should have given us a receiver,” said Jane. “So we could keep tabs on him, too.”
Steve glanced over at her. She smiled impishly. He wasn’t sure if she
was serious or not. Ever since they had bickered a little out on the trail, he had been uncomfortable with her, but she seemed to have forgotten about it.
“Steve! Jane!” Hunter’s voice came out of the darkening forest, not far away.
“Yeah!” Steve shouted back.
“Open the corral!”
Steve and Jane glanced at each other, then hurried toward the gate. They opened it. Then, out of the shadows, Hunter came into sight, pulling a taut rope.
“Ready, Chad?” Hunter called. “Untie your rope and hold it this time. We have to bring him into the corral.” He turned to Steve. “Help Chad on his rope.”
Steve and Jane jogged forward. They could hear something large breaking branches as it struggled. It was still invisible in the darkness.
“Steve? Over here,” said Chad.
Steve looked around and saw him only a few steps away. As Chad loosened his rope from a tree, Steve grabbed it. So did Jane. Then, for the first time, Steve saw the long neck and narrow head of the dinosaur, rising up high overhead.
“Just pull him,” said Chad. “He’s more docile now. He fought hard at first, but he’s getting tired, I think.”
“Okay.”
Hunter pulled the hardest. Little by little, the dinosaur stepped forward, forced to move by the tautness of the two ropes around its neck. In a few moments Hunter and the three humans had all backed into the corral. The dinosaur, looking around in jerky, sudden movements, at last stepped inside the corral gate.
Hunter quickly lashed his rope to one of the trees inside the corral. Then, circling safely around the dinosaur, he took the rope from Chad. “Climb over the rails,” he said. “Stay away from the struthiomimus.”
Steve dropped the rope and moved toward the fence. He clambered over the rails first and turned. Jane leaned down to brace herself on the arm he offered. Chad climbed over slowly at another part of the fence.
In the corral Hunter held the rope firmly as he backed to the fence. Then he let go of it and carefully watched the dinosaur. The struthiomimus, feeling the release of tension, suddenly pranced sideways. At the same time, Hunter dodged behind it and moved to the other rope. He untied it and then ran to the nearest part of the fence, where he jumped over.
