by Carol
It was hours before the ranks of those guards parted to allow the code expert to return. Along with him were other Jovians, whom he introduced.
“There are with me two officials of the central government who have graciously consented to speak with you.”
One of the officials evidently knew the code, for this clicking interrupted the code expert sharply. He addressed the robots, “Vermin! Emerge from the ground car that we may look at you.”
The robots were only too willing to comply, so while Three and Two vaulted over the right side of the car, ZZ One dashed through the left side. The word through is used advisedly, for since he neglected to work the mechanism that lowered a section of side so that one might exit, he carried that side, plus two wheels and an axle, along with him. The car collapsed, and ZZ One stood staring at the ruins in embarrassed silence.
At last he clicked out gently, ““I’m very sorry. I hope it wasn’t an expensive car.”
ZZ Two added apologetically, “Our companion is often clumsy. You must excuse him,” and ZZ Three made a halfhearted attempt to put the car back together again.
ZZ One made another effort to excuse himself. “The material of the car was rather flimsy. You see?” He lifted a square-yard sheet of three-inch-thick, metal-hard plastic in both hands and exerted a bit of pressure. The sheet promptly snapped in two. “I should have made allowances,” he admitted.
The Jovian government official said in slightly less sharp fashion, “The car would have had to be destroyed anyway, after being polluted by your presence.” He paused, then, “Creatures! We Jovians lack vulgar curiosity concerning lower animals, but our scientists seek facts.”
“We’re right with you,” replied Three cheerfully. “So do we.”
The Jovian ignored him. “You lack the mass-sensitive organ, apparently. How is it that you are aware of distant objects?”
Three grew interested. “Do you mean your people are directly sensitive to mass?”
“I am not here to answer your questions—your impudent questions—about us.”
“I take it then that objects of low specific mass would be transparent to you, even in the absence of radiation.” He turned to Two, ’That’s how they see. Their atmosphere is as transparent as space to them.”
The Jovian clicking began once more, “You will answer my first question immediately or my patience will end and I will order you destroyed.”
Three said at once, “We are energy-sensitive. We can adjust ourselves to the entire electromagnetic scale at will. At present, our long-distance sight is due to radio-wave radiation that we emit ourselves, and at close range we see by—” He paused, and said to Two, “There isn’t any code word for gamma ray, is there?”
“Not that I know of,” Two answered.
Three continued to the Jovian, “At close range we see by other radiation for which there is no code word.”
“Of what is your body composed?” demanded the Jovian.
Two whispered, “He probably asks that because his mass sensitivity can’t penetrate past our skin. High density, you know. Ought we to tell him?”
Three replied uncertainly, “Our human masters didn’t particularly say we were to keep anything secret.” In radio code, to the Jovian he said, “We are mostly iridium. For the rest, copper, tin, a little beryllium, and a scattering of other substances.”
The Jovians fell back and by the obscure writhing of various portions of their thoroughly indescribable bodies gave the impression that they were in animated conversation, although they made no sound.
And then the official returned. “Beings of Ganymede! It has been decided to show you through some of our factories that we may exhibit a tiny part of our great achievements. We will then allow you to return so that you may spread despair among the other verm—the other beings of the outer world.”
Three said to Two, “Note the effect of their psychology. They must hammer home their superiority. It’s still a matter of saving face.” And in radio code, “We thank you for the opportunity.”
But the face-saving was efficient, as the robots realized soon enough. The demonstration became a tour, and the tour a Grand Exhibition. The Jovians displayed everything, explained everything, answered all questions eagerly, and ZZ One made hundreds of despairing notes.
The war potential of that single so-called unimportant town was greater by several times than that of all Ganymede. Ten more such towns would outproduce all the Terrestrial Empire. Yet ten more such towns would not be the fingernail fragment of the strength all Jupiter must be able to exert.
Three turned as One nudged him. “What is it?”
ZZ One said seriously, “If they have force fields, the human masters are lost, aren’t they?”
“I’m afraid so. Why do you ask?”
“Because the Jovians aren’t showing us through the right wing of this factory. It might be that force fields are being developed there. They would be wanting to keep it secret if they were. We’d better find out. It’s the main point, you know.”
Three regarded One somberly. “Perhaps you’re right It’s no use ignoring anything.”
They were in a huge steel mill now, watching hundred-foot beams of ammonia-resistant silicon-steel alloy being turned out twenty to the second. Three asked quietly, “What does that wing contain?”
The government official inquired of those in charge of the factory and explained, “That is the section of great heat. Various processes require huge temperatures which life cannot bear, and they must all be handled indirectly.’*
He led the way to a partition from which heat could be felt to radiate and indicated a small, round area of transparent material. It was one of a row of such, through which the foggy red light of lines of glowing forges could be made out through the soupy atmosphere.
ZZ One fastened a look of suspicion on the Jovian and clicked out, “Would it be all right if I went in and looked around? I am veiy interested in this.”
Three said, “You’re being childish, One. They’re telling the truth. Oh well, nose around if you must. But don’t take too long; we’ve got to move on.”
The Jovian said, “You have no understanding of the heat involved. You will die.”
“Oh, no,” explained One casually. “Heat doesn’t bother us.”
There was a Jovian conference, and then a scene of scurrying confusion as the life of the factory was geared to this unusual emergency. Screens of heat-absorbent material were set up, and then a door dropped open, a door that had never before budged while the forges were working. ZZ One entered and the door closed behind him. Jovian officials crowed to the transparent areas to watch.
ZZ One walked to the nearest forge and tapped the outside. Since he was too short to see into it comfortably, he tipped the forge until the molten metal licked at the lip of the container. He peered at it curiously, then dipped his hand in and stirred it awhile to test the consistency. Having done this, he withdrew his hand, shook off some of the fiery metallic droplets and wiped the rest on one of his six thighs. Slowly he went down the line of forges, then signified his desire to leave.
The Jovians retired to a great distance when he came out of the door and played a stream of ammonia on him, which hissed, bubbled and steamed until he was brought to bearable temperature once more.
ZZ One ignored the ammonia shower and said, “They were telling the truth. No force fields.”
Three began, “You see—” but One interrupted impatiently, “But there’s no use delaying. The human masters instructed us to find out everything and that’s that.”
He turned to the Jovian and clicked out, without the slightest hesitation, “Listen, has Jovian science developed force fields?”
Bluntness was, of course, one of the natural consequences of One’s less well developed mental powers. Two and Three knew that, so they refrained from expressing disapproval of the remark.
The Jovian official relaxed slowly from his strangely stiffened attitude, which had somehow g
iven the impression that he had been staring stupidly at One’s hand—the one he had dipped into the molten metal. The Jovian said slowly, “Force fields? That, then, is your main object of curiosity?”
“Yes,” said One with emphasis.
There was a sudden and patent gain in confidence on the Jovian’s part, for the clicking grew sharper. “Then come, vermin!”
Whereupon Three said to Two, “We’re vermin again, I see—which sounds as if there’s bad news ahead.” And Two gloomily agreed.
It was to the very edge of the city that they were now led—to the portion which on Earth would have been termed the suburbs—and into one of a series of closely integrated structures, which might have corresponded vaguely to a terrestrial university.
There were no explantions, however, and none was asked for. The Jovian official led the way rapidly, and the robots followed with the grim conviction that the worst was just about to happen.
It was ZZ One who stopped before an opened wall section after the rest had passed on. “What’s this?” he wanted to know.
The room was equipped with narrow, low benches, along which Jovians manipulated rows of strange devices, of which strong, inch-long electromagnets formed the principal feature.
“What’s this?” asked One again.
The Jovian turned back and exhibited impatience. “This is a students’ biological laboratory. There’s nothing there to interest you.”
“But what are they doing?”
“They are studying microscopic life. Haven’t you ever seen a microscope before?”
Three interrupted in explanation, “He has, but not that type. Our microscopes are meant for energy-sensitive organs and work by refraction of radiant energy. Your microscopes evidently work on a mass-expansion basis. Rather ingenious.”
ZZ One said, “Would it be all right if I inspected some of your specimens?”
“Of what use will that be? You cannot use our microscopes because of your sensory limitations and it will simply force us to discard such specimens as you approach for no decent reason.”
“But I don’t need a microscope,” explained One, with surprise. “1 can easily adjust myself for microscopic vision.”
He strode to the nearest bench, while the students in the room crowded to the corner in an attempt to avoid contamination. ZZ One shoved a microscope aside and inspected the slide carefully. He backed away, puzzled, then tried another…a third…a fourth.
He came back and addressed the Jovian. “Those are supposed to be alive, aren’t they? 1 mean those little worm things.”
The Jovian said, “Certainly.”
’That’s strange—when I look at them, they die!” Three exclaimed sharply and said to his two companions, “We’ve forgotten our gamma-ray radiation. Let’s get out of here, One, or we’ll kill every bit of microscopic life in the room.”
He turned to the Jovian, “I’m afraid that our presence is fatal to weaker forms of life. We had better leave. We hope the specimens are not too difficult to replace. And, while we’re about it, you had better not stay too near us, or our radiation may affect you adversely. You feel all right so far, don’t you?” he asked.
The Jovian led the way onward in proud silence, but it was to be noticed that thereafter he doubled the distance he had hitherto kept between himself and them.
Nothing more was said until the robots found themselves in a vast room. In the very center of it huge ingots of metal rested unsupported in mid-air—or, rather, supported by nothing visible—against mighty Jovian gravity.
The Jovian clicked, “There is your force field in ultimate form, as recently perfected. Within that bubble is a vacuum, so that it is supporting the full weight of our atmosphere plus an amount of metal equivalent to two large spaceships. What do you say to that?”
“That space travel now becomes a possibility for you,” said Three.
“Definitely. No metal or plastic has the strength to hold our atmosphere against a vacuum, but a force field can—and a forcefield bubble will be our spaceship. Within the year we will be turning them out by the hundreds of thousands. Then we will swarm down upon Ganymede to destroy the verminous so-called intelligences that attempt to dispute our dominion of the Universe.”
“The human beings of Ganymede have never attempted—” began Three, in mild expostulation.
“Silence!” snapped the Jovian. “Return now and tell them what you’ve seen. Their own feeble force fields—such as the one your ship is equipped with—will not stand against us, for our smallest ship will be a hundred times the size and power of yours.”
Three said, “Then there’s nothing more to do and we will return, as you say, with the information. If you could lead us back to our ship, we’ll say good-by. But by the way, just as a matter for the record, there’s something you don’t understand. The humans of Ganymede have force fields, of course, but our particular ship isn’t equipped with one. We don’t need any.”
The robot turned away and motioned his companions to follow. For a moment they did not speak, then ZZ One muttered dejectedly, “Can’t we try to destroy this place?”
“It won’t help,” said Three. “They’d get us by weight of numbers. It’s no use. In an earthly decade the human masters will be finished. It is impossible to stand against Jupiter. There’s just too much of it. As long as Jovians were tied to the surface, the humans were safe. But now that they have force fields—All we can do is to bring the news. By the preparation of hiding places, some few may survive for a short while.”
The city was behind them. They were out on the open plain by the lake, with their ship a dark spot on the horizon, when the Jovian spoke suddenly:
“Creatures, you say you have no force field?”
Three replied without interest, “We don’t need one.”
“How then does your ship stand the vacuum of space without exploding because of the atmospheric pressure within?” Arid he moved a tentacle as if in mute gesture at the Jovian atmosphere that was weighing down upon them with a force of twenty million pounds to the square inch.
“Well,” explained Three, “that’s simple. Our ship isn’t airtight. Pressures equalize within and without.”
“Even in space? A vacuum in your ship? You lie!” “You’re welcome to inspect our ship. It has no force field and it isn’t airtight. What’s marvelous about that? We don’t breathe. Our energy is obtained through direct atomic power. The presence or absence of air pressure makes little difference to us and we’re quite at home in a vacuum.”
“But absolute zero!”
“It doesn’t matter. We regulate our own heat. We’re not interested in outside temperatures.” He paused. “Well, we can make our own way back to the ship. Good-by. We’ll give the humans of Ganymede your message—war to the end!”
But the Jovian said. “Wait! I’ll be back.” He turned and went toward the city.
The robots stared, and then waited in silence.
It was three hours before he returned and when he did, it was in breathless haste. He stopped within the usual ten feet of the robots, but then began inching his way forward in a curious groveling fashion. He did not speak until his rubbery gray skin was almost touching them, and then the radio code sounded, subdued and respectful.
“Honored sirs, I have been m communication with the head of our central government, who is now aware of all the facts, and I can assure you that Jupiter desires only peace.”
“I beg your pardon?” asked Three blankly.
The Jovian drove on hastily. “We are ready to resume communication with Ganymede and will gladly promise to make no attempt to venture into space. Our force field will be used only on the Jovian surface.”
“But—” Three began.
“Our government will be glad to receive any other representatives our honorable human brothers of Ganymede would care to send. If your honors will now condescend to swear peace—” a scaly tentacle swung out toward them and Three, quite dazed, grasped it. Two and One d
id likewise as two more were extended to them.
The Jovian said solemnly: “There is then eternal peace between Jupiter and Ganymede.”
The spaceship which leaked like a sieve was out in space again. The pressure and temperature were once more at zero, and the robots watched the huge but steadily shrinking globe that was Jupiter.
“They’re definitely sincere,” said ZZ Two, “and it’s very gratifying, this complete about-face, but I don’t get it.”
“It is my idea,” observed ZZ One, “that the Jovians came to their senses just in time and realized the incredible evil involved in the thought of harm to a human master. That would be only natural.”
ZZ Three sighed and said, “Look, it’s all a matter of psychology. Those Jovians had a superiority complex a mile thick and when they couldn’t destroy us, they were bound to save face. All their exhibitions, all their explanations, were simply a form of braggadocio, designed to impress us into the proper state of humiliation before their power and superiority.”
“I see all that,” interrupted Two, “but—”
Three went on, “But it worked the wrong way. All they did was to prove to themselves that we were stronger, that we didn’t drown, that we didn’t eat or sleep, that molten metal didn’t hurt us. Even our very presence was fatal to Jovian life. Their last trump was the force field. And when they found out that we didn’t need them at all, and could live in a vacuum at absolute zero, they broke.” He paused and added philosophically, “When a superiority complex like that breaks, it breaks all the way.”
The other two considered that, and then Two said, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Why should they care what we can or can’t do? We’re only robots. We’re not the ones they have to fight.”
“And that’s the whole point, Two,” said Three softly. “It’s only after we left Jupiter that I thought of it. Do you know that through an oversight, quite unintentionally, we neglected to tell them we were only robots.”
“They never asked us,” said One.
“Exactly. So they thought we were human beings and that all other human beings were like us!”