Asimov’s Future History Volume 7

by Isaac Asimov

  “That’s it, isn’t it? Because the robot farms are a woman’s idea, it’s a stupid idea. You are a male chauvinist pig, Derec Avery.”

  “And you are a libertine tease, Ariel Welsh.”

  “I suppose you’re referring to Jacob. Getting down to the nitty gritty, getting really personal.”

  “You weren’t, I suppose.”

  “What? Calling you a chauvinist pig?”

  “What do you call it?”

  “Stating facts.”

  “And the hyperwave modulation. I suppose you call those facts, too, those aberrant mental peregrinations.”

  She didn’t let on that she didn’t know what “peregrinations” meant.

  “Continuous modulation is a fact, you ninny. And you don’t need to take that from a silly woman. Ask any Ceremyon.”

  “Darn, Ariel, why are we fighting like this? I just came in here to be nice.”

  “Telling me how much I’m hurting Wolruf? That’s nice?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “And you’re going to be sure I know it’s the truth, right? So you can hurt me a little more.”

  “I didn’t come in here to hurt you. Just to try to poke some sense into your thick head.”

  “Those are nice pleasant words, too. Keep it up, Derec.”

  “It’s the truth, though. That’s why I came in here.”

  “How Wolruf feels isn’t what’s really bothering you, is it, Derec?”

  “Oh? What would you suggest?”

  “It’s really Jacob, isn’t it? You’re jealous of a robot, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t care if you love that freak machine. It’s none of my affair.”

  Ariel didn’t say anything to rebut that last remark. She was a tease, and she wanted him to dwell on his last thought without being distracted.

  “No,” Derec said after the space of a breath or two, “I do care because if it’s true, you would be darn sick. And I do love you, Ariel, whether you want me to or not, whether you love a robot or not. So if it’s true, I want to help you, and rather desperately.”

  He walked into the adjoining personal and closed the door. It went on like that the rest of the night. They didn’t get much sleep. Nor did they make up as they usually did when they had finally exhausted one another emotionally.

  Derec slept on his side of the room, and Ariel slept on hers, but they didn’t sleep much, keeping each other awake by tossing and turning, and generally flouncing around to enhance the other’s anger.

  Morning finally came. They ate an early breakfast in silence, and they all rode in the lorry to the opening in the dome well before the time when dome construction would normally start if it were going to take place.

  It did not take place. Instead the two aliens Synapo and Sarco arrived in their usual dramatic fashion with a great show of black wings. Ariel, Derec, and Wolruf climbed down from the lorry to stand near the right front wheel and talk with the two Ceremyons.

  “It is our turn to request an audience, Miss Ariel Welsh,” Synapo said, “for we have discovered that a misunderstanding exists between us. You should not be held responsible for the errant behavior of servant machinery — apparently not yours — trying to pursue its orders in the best way it knows how. I am referring, of course, to the servant you call SilverSide. The question is: Whose machinery is it and whence did it come? It came to our world aboard your vessel, Wolruf. At that time it had your form. Can you explain that?”

  “No more than you can explain why it took your form,” Wolruf said. “Derec knows more about it than anyone else.”

  “I first encountered it on another planet,” Derec said. “At that time it was the leader of a pack of intelligent lupine beings. They were attacking and interfering with Avery robots during their construction of a city much like the one you have enclosed with your weather node compensator. I made a sort of peace with it in order to study its physical nature and programmed behavior. I recognized at the time that that involved certain risks. I alone am responsible for any inconvenience the robot may have caused you. As you have recognized, its objectives are basically benign even though its behavior may at times seem erratic.”

  “As you also recognize, by your own words, benign objectives can sometimes motivate evil doings, particularly when two aberrants interact. I must warn you all that we have an aberrant Cerebron on the wing, more irrational than your SilverSide, and the two have already begun to interact.

  “You are familiar with the Cerebron, Neuronius, Miss Ariel Welsh. It was he who impetuously curtailed one of our earlier meetings. The Cerebrons in full caucus have now stripped him of all authority, something I could not do on my own during our meeting because of the rules that regulate our government. We Cerebrons can do little more at this time. Yet he is a danger to all of us, and his interaction with SilverSide, benign though it may seem to the robot, could create a very explosive situation.

  “So you see, Derec, you feel responsible for SilverSide, and we feel responsible for Neuronius, but our feelings can do little at this time to correct a nasty situation created by your scientific interest and our governmental restrictions, which prevent both of us from neutralizing the agitators.

  “But the primary purpose of this meeting is to inform you that the compensator will not be closed and you may proceed with cultivation of your plants and construction of your transportation terminal.”

  “Thank you,” Ariel said. “We are grateful for your foresight and will proceed with those projects.”

  “We have not seen SilverSide for almost a full day now,” Derec said. “Do you know where he is or what he’s been doing?”

  Sarco spoke now.

  “He is exceedingly confused about who his master should be. Based on his own programming, Miss Ariel Welsh is his most likely master, and Synapo so instructed him yesterday afternoon at The Cliff of Time. He immediately began a transformation into the form of your robot Jacob Winterson, and was last seen that afternoon climbing down the rock face of the escarpment.

  “Then early this morning he ascended to meet me in the form of a Ceremyon, as best he can manage, and as you know, that is a startlingly huge Ceremyon.

  “It was then that we learned of his interaction with Neuronius, who had tried to pass himself off as the only human on the planet in order to win SilverSide’s allegiance. I hope I was able to forestall that. I watched SilverSide descend to The Plain of Serenity and watched as he transformed to a being that looked from that distance somewhat like Wolruf, but probably twice her size. I last saw him entering The Forest of Repose in that form.”

  “That would be his KeenEye imprint,” Derec said, “one of the lupine creatures he copied on that other planet. Thank you. At least we know he’s still alive and hope he’ll return. Thank you very much.”

  The two Ceremyons turned then and took to the air.

  Immediately after the meeting, in the short time that was left before lunch, Ariel, Derec, and Wolruf began planning the robot farm experiment, discussing in broad outline the revisions in the programming of the Avery robots that would be required, not only for the many different farms themselves, but also for the creation of the city’s new terminal facilities that would be needed to support the farms.

  SilverSide had not returned by the time they sat down to lunch. In spite of all the trouble he had caused her, Ariel felt inexplicably concerned about his welfare.

  Chapter 22

  THE EGG

  ONCE AGAIN SILVERSIDE was in turmoil. All was confusion. Who should he believe? He wished only to evade the dilemma. He metamorphosed, escaping back to the relative peace of his wolfish “childhood,” back to the days when LifeCrier had guided him into the life of the pack on the wolf planet.

  Thus, midmorning found SilverSide imprinted on the wolflike female KeenEye, trotting along an animal trail far from the robot city. As she had the night before, she spent the late morning and early afternoon exploring the vast Forest of Repose, its trails, brooks, rivers, and lakes th
at lay within ten kilometers of the city.

  Monitoring the field lines of Oyster World’s natural magnetism kept her oriented during her aimless roving, so that as the morning waned, she began to zero in on the dome without dwelling on what she was going to do when she got there.

  In the early afternoon, she came to the edge of the forest opposite the mirage-like transparency that concealed the robot city. She sat down on her haunches and stared at the dome with unseeing eyes, mulling over — as she had all morning — what Neuronius and then Sarco had told her.

  She could not escape the essential validity of Sarco’s assessment of Neuronius — a self-centered, paranoid psychopath — nor could she any longer ignore Synapo’s directive to serve Miss Ariel and the feeling that that could best be done in the male imprint of Jacob Winterson, who was already serving Miss Ariel with apparently great efficiency and to her obvious satisfaction.

  The Jacob imprint would help, but it was still not clear exactly how she could best serve Miss Ariel. The physics Neuronius had expounded had only confused her, offering information that conflicted with her earlier knowledge of space and time. He had not clarified the physics, but had instead muddied it and left SilverSide worse off than she had been before. The new information was useless, and worse than useless in the confusion it created about the physics she had once known.

  As she sat there in the quiet heat of the afternoon studying the dome and trying to make sense of the aborted discussion with Neuronius, she gradually became aware of a faint humming off to her left, nearer the dome but deeper in the forest. When the sound finally broke through her reverie, she rose and trotted along an animal path that led in the general direction of the hum.

  The path led past the hum, and when SilverSide recognized that she had passed the point of closest approach, she started through the vegetation, heading directly for the sound. Although the ground was covered in that area, the cover was not dense, and she had no difficulty weaving through the shrubbery. As the hum grew steadily louder, she almost ran into its source as she came around a tall bush covered with pink blossoms.

  She recognized the source instantly. It was a two-meter sphere, just as hers had been, and the duodecahedral structure of the coarse silvery cells of its skin, dulled by the heat of passage through Oyster World’s atmosphere, told her instantly it was an egg similar to her own.

  It lay atop the crushed base of two bushes, framed by pink flowers, set in green foliage which, in close proximity to the foreign surface, was now seared and wilted by the heat the egg had exuded earlier. It was now almost cool to the touch, almost ready for hatching. And it came to her then what she must do.

  She kept the KeenEye form to speed her dash through the thin shrubbery of the forest, but when she came to the plain, she began the transformation to the Jacob imprint, stopping only long enough to fashion the heavy muscular legs that would take her the three kilometers to the dome’s opening in the shortest length of time. As she ran along the wall of the dome, she completed the transformation to the masculine Jacob form well before he reached the opening on the north side.

  As SilverSide approached the opening, Wohler-9 called to him from a small runabout parked near the west edge.

  “I get no response from you on the comlink, Jacob.”

  “I am SilverSide,” he said as he hopped into the passenger seat. “Take me to Miss Ariel Welsh.”

  Wohler-9 started the runabout, turned into the near southbound lane of Main Street, and proceeded rapidly down the street in the direction of the Compass Tower.

  “I have instructions to take you to Master Derec at once, SilverSide.”

  “Where is Miss Ariel?” SilverSide asked.

  “At the apartment.”

  “Good. Then we are proceeding in the right direction.”

  “Yes. Master Derec is working at the mainframe, which is currently on the second underground level of the Compass Tower.”

  When they came abreast of the apartment, SilverSide jumped out. Wohler-9 braked the runabout to a halt but remained seated.

  “I must take you to Master Derec,” Wohler-9 called to SilverSide’s back.

  “Later,” SilverSide called over his shoulder as he ran into the building.

  He took the stairs three at a time and burst into the apartment.

  Ariel was sitting at the dining table reading a computer printout. The table was strewn with piles of computer output. Jacob was thumbing through the piles, apparently hunting for the next printout she would need.

  SilverSide took in the scene, picked Ariel up, cradling her in his arms like a fragile baby, dashed out the door, down the stairs, and past Wohler-9, who was walking toward the apartment from the runabout.

  Ariel had time to scream only once before she was deposited in the runabout. As she was being gently scooped up, she had screamed, “Jaaaacobbbb,” with a Doppler modulation that trailed off like the whistle of a passing train.

  Jacob Winterson had responded with the millisecond speed characteristic of Dr. Han Fastolfe’s humaniform robots. But that speed was no match for the microseconds it took for all of SilverSide’s motions, save for the brisk but gentle acceleration when he had picked up Ariel and started toward the door.

  He and Ariel were speeding away from the apartment building in the runabout as Jacob came pounding out of the apartment past Wohler-9.

  Ariel’s first scream had ended as she was being deposited in the runabout. Her next scream was delivered in the interrogative mode as they pulled away from the apartment.

  “What are you doing?” she shrieked with an intensity that rattled SilverSide’s auricular diaphragms — akin to eardrums.

  “There was no time to explain, Miss Ariel,” SilverSide shouted about the wind noise. “I need your presence urgently.”

  Jacob raced after them down Main Street but was soon left behind as SilverSide accelerated the small runabout to its maximum speed, weaving in and out of the traffic and avoiding an accident by the adeptness of the city central computer.

  “Stop, you maniac,” Ariel screamed. “Stop now.”

  SilverSide slowed the runabout noticeably and then promptly speeded up again. Consideration of his new knowledge of the Law of Humanics — humans were compelled to please themselves — overrode his own Second Law output — robots must obey human orders. He knew when Ariel had finally considered all the facts — after the fact — she would be pleased and would approve what he was doing.

  “You are in no danger, Miss Ariel, but I cannot obey that order because of the overriding nature of the present situation which demands your presence at the birthing of... of...” and he added lamely, still shouting, “Of what I cannot be sure.” And the shout died away as he said, “I can only hope.”

  Then Ariel, sobbing and screaming incoherently, beat on him with her hands clenched into small hard fists, beat on his shoulder first, and then finally, in desperation, beat on his head. But he felt nothing in the intensity of his purpose.

  “You must stop that, Miss Ariel,” he shouted. “You will hurt yourself.”

  And the calm way he shouted that above the sound of the rushing air and the obvious lack of effect her effort was having, must have calmed her, for she finally stopped and slumped down on the seat, seemingly exhausted, her hysteria spent.

  They emerged from the opening, and SilverSide skidded the runabout in a sharp left turn to take them down the side of the dome.

  “You must understand what is taking place,” he shouted. “It is very important to me, to the new foundling, even to you, Miss Ariel, for I wish her to serve you well.”

  Ariel said nothing. She sat beside him like a limp doll.

  “Another like me is being born. The egg lies in the forest even now, ready to hatch. She must have a proper model, a human female, so that she does not come into being confused, her imprint misguided as mine was. You must be there to guide her into this strange world. Do you understand what I am saying, Miss Ariel?”

  Ariel still said noth
ing, but she had straightened a little in the seat, perhaps because to slump in the bouncing runabout was more uncomfortable than to sit up straight.

  “You will not be harmed, Miss Ariel. After it’s allover, when you think back on it, you will be glad you came. I know you will. You will be pleased with me. The Law of Humanics will guide you.”

  That seemed to comfort SilverSide. The Law of Humanics was working on the effect of his own Laws, regulating their relative potential to something that was less uncomfortable. He was doing something that he knew was going to please Ariel even though she was, perhaps, not pleased at the moment.

  When they arrived at the forest, he braked to a halt, jumped out, and opened the door for Ariel. She got out calmly. She must have thought about what he had been shouting at her, for she didn’t object when he gently took her hand to help her from the car.

  That gave him confidence that she would follow him without being forced, and he let go of her hand and started into the woods. She stayed close behind him for the short, hurried walk it took to reach the egg.

  SilverSide guided Ariel gently until she stood two meters from the egg, directly in front of the hatch, and then he left her there and hid behind the pink-flowered bush behind her.

  The hatch began to open with a soft grinding sound.

  SilverSide could look through the lower branches of the tall bush, past Ariel’s right side, and see the hatch himself.

  A silvery-gray, amorphous mass heaved itself above the bottom of the hatch and formed, in that part of its mass that hung over the edge of the opening, a shiny, multifaceted, grayish-green orb that it rotated slowly around — much like an eye rotating in its socket — as though it were surveying the entire landscape. The inspection narrowed then, and starting at Ariel’s feet, the orb slowly scanned up until it was gazing at her head.

  With that inspection completed, the blob elongated and pulled itself through the hatch as though it were one large muscle, like the foot of a huge snail. It slithered out of the hatch, coming to rest on the ground in front of Ariel like a thick pancake with the orb still intact in the center.