by Isaac Asimov
That dwelt upon, he turned his attention completely to exploring the new world that an unseen fate had guided him to. In his current pristine state of innocence and awareness, it was difficult for Derec not to see the hand of destiny in his wanderings. It was as if his amnesia was an emotional and intellectual purging of sorts, set in motion to prepare him for a journey of which Robot City could be only a part. Since that was the only feeling or need he had to work with, he plunged himself into it with relish, enthusiasm, and as much good humor as he could muster. Katherine would never understand his feelings in this matter, but then Katherine had a life to go back to and memories to sustain her. For Derec, this was it, his whole world, and he wanted to know as much about it as he possibly could.
The city stretched all around him like some magnificent clockwork. The shapes of the buildings, from towering spires to squat storage warehouses, were all precise and multifaceted, like growing crystals. And the shapes seemed to be designed as much for aesthetic pleasure as pragmatic necessity. This concept formed the core of a theory within Derec’s mind, and one that he would want to explore in greater detail when he had time for reflection. For nothing exists in a vacuum. Robots were not motivated independently by unreasoning emotion. They had to have reasons for their actions, and by what Derec had seen, their actions were all directed absolutely, despite Rydberg’s claims of autonomy.
The cold winds sliced through him like a knife through water, and the sky rumbled and quaked, yet all around him he watched a furious activity that kept the mechanism of Robot City moving to its own internal rhythm and purpose. Hundreds of robots filled the streets around him, all moving and directed. All ignored his presence.
Streets were cleaned, even as spray painting was conducted on dull-sheened buildings, the sprayers held close to the target in the stiff wind—which probably explained the bands of paint on the utility robot that guarded the humans. Converted mining cars sped by, filled with broken equipment and scrap metal, their beamed headlights illuminating the streets before them like roving mechanical fireflies. Once he took to the shadows as a whole squad of drones, accompanied by a supervisor robot he hadn’t seen before, drove past in an open-bed equipment mover and passed his position without a look before disappearing around a distant corner. He thought about following them, but decided that he would continue exploring slowly at first, getting a feel for his world and its parameters.
The questions in his mind seemed endless, and their answers only led to more questions. Who began Robot City, and why did the robots not know of their own origin? Why this place, this particular planet? Why a city of human proportions for a world of the nonhuman? Euler had called Robot City the perfect place for humans—why? The murder, to Derec, was nothing but a small nuisance with large complications. What really interested him was the motivation behind the city itself.
The lousy food raised a great many further questions in his mind. Spacer robots were designed solely as mechanical helpmates to human masters. Spacer robots knew how human beings reacted to food. The robots here had basic human knowledge and the Laws of Robotics as their core, yet remained ignorant of specific, conditioned reactions to humans. It was almost as if their design had geared them toward an equal human partnership, rather than a master/servant relationship, and they were feeling out their relationship with the animal called human. It was a dizzying concept to Derec, one that he’d also have to think out in greater detail.
And, finally, the dead man. Where did he fit into the picture . . . and why? Derec’s mind, being a blank slate, soaked up everything around him like a sponge, unhampered by the intrusion of past thoughts and feelings that muddied observation. His eye for detail missed nothing, especially the reaction of Katherine to hearing Euler say the man’s name—David.
What could it mean? He had literally stumbled upon Katherine, yet she seemed an indispensable part of the puzzle. What role did she play? Again, destiny seemed to rule the day—a place for everything, everything in its place. He was a blind man with a jigsaw puzzle, feeling his way through, groping sightlessly for the connections. He liked the girl, couldn’t help it, and felt a strong physical attraction for her that he wouldn’t even try to wish away; yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was deeply involved in covering up his real identity and purpose. And again, his eternal question—why?
He continued moving down the street. Though the buildings were beautiful, they were nondescript, without markings of any kind. He recognized warehouses because parts were being moved in and out of them, but everything else seemed devoid of purpose. If he could find an official building, he could try to hook up to a terminal and make his own inquiries. The pyramid where he and Katherine had materialized, the place the robots called the Compass Tower, had seemed solid to him. Even though it appeared to be the point upon which all else hinged, he wasn’t ready to go back to it yet.
The robots on the street ignored him as he moved through their midst. There seemed to be a sense of urgency to them that he couldn’t understand. He stopped a utility robot like the one he had snuck past at the apartment, except this one had huge scoops for hands.
“Can you talk?” he asked.
“Yes, most assuredly,” the robot answered.
“I need to find the administration building.”
“I don’t believe we have one here.”
“Where would I find the closest computer terminal?”
“I regret that I cannot say.”
Derec sighed. The runaround. Again. “Why can’t you say?”
“If I told you that, you’d know everything.”
“Know everything about what?”
“About the thing that I cannot talk about. If you’d like, you can stay here and I’ll report to a supervisor and have him come out and find you.”
“No, thanks,” Derec replied, and the robot turned to walk away. “Hey, what’s your hurry?”
“The rain,” the utility said, pointing toward the sky. “The rain is coming. You had better get to shelter.” The robot turned and hurried off, his box-like body weaving from side to side as he rolled along.
“What about the rain!?” Derec yelled, but his words were lost in a sudden gust of wind.
He watched the figure of the robot for a moment, realizing that the street he had come down looked different than it had a moment before. The whole block, street and all, had seemed to shift positions, bowing out to curve what had once been straight. A tall, tetrahedral structure, which he had used as a reference point, had disappeared completely. Ten minutes on the street and he was totally lost.
He pressed on, the wind colder now, more intense. If this was such a perfect world for humans, then why did the weather seem so bad?
He reached an unmarked corner and found himself on the street he had ridden down earlier, during the parade. It was extra wide, a large aqueduct bisecting it.
He moved to the edge of the aqueduct and stared down at the dark, rushing waters that filled it no more than a quarter full. Where had the waters come from? Where were they going? Had Robot City been built here for the water, or was the water somehow a consequence of the building?
The water rushed past, dark and inscrutable, much like the problem of Derec’s past and, perhaps, his future. Yet he could know about the water. He could trace it to its source; he could follow it to its destination. He could know. The thought heartened him, for he could do the same with his life. Accepting that destiny and not chance had brought him to this impossible place, it then followed that the sources of that destiny could be traced through the city itself.
If he pursued it properly, he could trace the origins of the city and, hence, find his own origins. It seemed eminently logical, for he couldn’t escape the concept that he and Robot City were inextricably linked, physically, emotionally, and, perhaps, metaphysically.
If his searching came to naught, at least he’d be keeping himself, keeping his blank mind, occupied. He’d begin with the water—trace it through source and destinat
ion, find out the why of it. He’d work on the robots, finding out what they knew, what they didn’t know, what they’d be willing to tell him, and what he could find out from them unwillingly. And there was Katherine. He’d have to treat her like a friendly adversary and use whatever limited wiles he had at his disposal to find out her place in all this.
The water plopped below him, as if a large stone had been tossed in. He looked around but saw nothing save the gently glowing buildings and the distant robots hurrying about their secret business.
The water plopped again, farther down the aqueduct, then again, near the last place. He turned to stare in that direction when his shoulder was splashed by a drop of icy water.
A drop hardly described it. What hit him was more like a glassful. His jumpsuit sleeve was soaked, his shoulder cold. Water splashed on the street beside him, a drop bigger than a clenched fist, leaving a wet ring.
Derec had about a second to appreciate what was happening, for his mind to begin to realize what a major storm could mean, when the deluge struck.
With a force that nearly doubled him over, the rain fell upon Derec in opaque sheets that immediately cut off his field of vision. He was cold, freezing; the rain lashing him unmercifully, its sound a hollow roar in his ears.
He used his arms to cover and protect his head as the freezing downpour numbed his shoulders and back. He had to get to shelter quickly, but he had already lost his bearings in the curtain of water that surrounded him three-sixty.
He tentatively put out a foot, hoping he was moving in the direction of the buildings across from the aqueduct. Were he to move in the wrong direction, he’d fall into the aqueduct and be lost in its flowing waters.
Movement was slow as he felt his way, still doubled over, toward the buildings and safety. It seemed as if he should have reached them three times over—they couldn’t have been more than ten meters distant—yet he hadn’t gotten there yet. Could he have gotten turned the wrong way and simply be moving down the center of the street?
Keeping his balance was getting more difficult. Water on the street was up to his ankles, moving rapidly against his direction. He lost his footing and went to his knee, but managed to rise again. His clothes were now soaked through, and hung like icicles from his body. Every step was a labor.
“The perfect world,” he muttered, a thin smile stretching his lips despite his predicament.
Just as he was about to give up on his present direction and pick another one at random, the hulk of a building began to define itself in his vision. A few more treacherous steps and he was suddenly out of the rain, standing beneath a short awning that overhung the building front.
He used a hand to wipe the water from his face, then hugged himself, shivering, against the damp cold, taking stock of his position. The overhang protected the building front only for about a meter, and it extended for perhaps three meters in either direction from where he stood.
Beyond the awning, he could see nothing. The roaring water was impenetrable. The building front was no better. It was totally blank, no doors or windows. Yet, oddly enough, when he touched it, it felt warm, resisting the chill of the air. He was stuck in a world one meter wide by five meters long. The ground water had risen from his ankles to his calves, its current always pulling at him.
He stood there for several minutes, cold, teeth chattering, cursing the fate that would bring him to this hellhole. His numbness and melancholy soon, inevitably, turned to anger.
“Damn you!” he screamed, to whom, to what, he didn’t know. “Why me?”
In frustration, he turned to the wall behind him. Hands balled into fists, he pounded viciously at the wall and—his hands sank right into it!
“Aaaahh!”
He screamed in surprise, instinctively jumping backward.
The water cascading from the awning caught him on the face, and as he tried to duck away from it, the ground current took him down.
He went under, then came up gasping for breath. But his control was gone and he was caught in the current. It pulled him back across the street; even the street itself seemed tilted at an angle toward the aqueduct. At this point, trying to regain his footing was out of the question. Keeping his head above water was the only priority. Staying alive was everything.
He felt himself go over the lip of the aqueduct and plunge into its raging waters. He bobbed down, at no point touching bottom, then rose again, totally numb and choking as the swift current carried him away, pulling at him, sucking him ever down.
He had wanted to see the terminal point of the waters. He would now see it quickly—if he could stay alive long enough.
Katherine stood with Euler by the opening to the balcony, staring out at a completely opaque wall of water that made her think that Robot City didn’t really exist at all, but was simply an image conjured by an overactive brain exposed to too much cosmic radiation. The rain came down in never-ending torrents, rain such as she’d never seen or even thought could exist. It frightened her, a fright that almost overcame her anger at their predicament. Almost.
“Why did he go out?” Euler asked.
“I’ve already told you,” she replied, turning away from the incredible downpour and moving back into the apartment. “He wanted to see the city.”
“But we told him it was dangerous.”
Katherine sat on the couch, folding her arms across her chest. A black hole could swallow Derec and his robots for all she cared. “Her either didn’t believe you or didn’t care,” she said. “Why are you standing here asking me the same thing over and over when you could be out there looking for him?”
Rydberg came in from the bedroom, where he had apparently been searching in case Katherine had been lying. “Everything that can be done is being done,” he said. “We appreciate your concern. Ours is every bit as great as yours.”
“I’m not concerned,” she said. “I couldn’t care less.”
The robots exchanged glances. “You don’t care about the possible loss of a human life?” Euler asked.
Katherine jumped up from the couch. “You mean he could possibly be . . . be . . . ?”
“Dead?” Rydberg helped. “Of course. We warned you that it was dangerous.”
For the fiftieth time since Derec’s leaving, she hurried back to the balcony doorway and stared into the blank wall of water. He’d had been gone for several hours, far longer than he should have been. If anything had happened to him—
“Why did he go out?” Euler asked from beside her.
“Again!” she said loudly. “That same question. Why do you keep asking me that?”
“Because we don’t understand,” Rydberg said, moving up to join them. “You must know that robots don’t lie.”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Then, when we said it was dangerous, why did he risk his life?” Euler asked.
“To begin with, his definition of danger might be different from yours,” she said. “But beyond that, he wanted to know about this crazy city of yours more than he was afraid of the danger.”
“You mean,” Euler said, “that he could have purposely risked his life just for the sake of curiosity?”
“Something like that.”
“Astounding.”
“Let me ask you a question,” she said, poking Euler in his chest sensors with an index finger. “If you want people to live here so much, why did you pick a place with such dangerous weather?”
Rydberg seemed to hesitate, as if he were weighing the answer he was about to give by some sort of internal scale. “The weather here is not naturally like this,” he said at last.
“Naturally,” she repeated, zeroing in on the key word. “Does this mean that something has affected the weather adversely?”
“Yes,” Euler said.
“What?” she asked.
“We cannot tell you that,” Rydberg said, and walked over to peer beneath the couch.
“Will it stop soon?” Kate asked.”
Probably within
the next hour,” Euler said. “At which time we can conduct an extensive search for Friend Derec.”
A thought struck Katherine. She wanted to suppress it, but couldn’t. “Is this how the other man . . . David, died?”
“He may have caused the rains,” Euler said. “but he didn’t die from them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It is quite late for humans,” Rydberg said, moving toward the door. “You must sleep now or risk damaging your health.”
With that, the two supervisor robots moved silently into the hallway, the door sliding shut behind them.
Katherine was alone, except for the robot standing guard in the hallway outside. She moved to the couch and curled into a tight ball. “Oh, David,” she cried into the sleeve of her jumper. “Why did this have to happen?”
Chapter 3
THE EXTRUDER
DEREC RODE THE aqueduct like a log in a sluice, his body numb, his senses and his fate out of control. The waters raged in his ears as his entire existence turned on the simple act of trying to keep his head above water. Nothing else mattered; life had reduced itself to its essence. There was no fear, no time for it, and any yearnings to have his life pass before his eyes went unsatisfied, since he had no life to reflect upon. There was only the water and the numbing cold—and the ubiquitous companionship of Death.
His ride could have lasted a minute or an eternity—he was beyond calculating time—but when he felt himself free-falling in midair, his brain snapped to the new reality and questioned.
He was falling, surrounded by a hot, moist wind. A bare glow of light seemed to envelope him, but before he had a chance to appreciate it, he splashed into hot water.
