Perihelion iarc-6

by William F. Wu

  “You mean if I instruct a robot to tell me something, he might be late fulfilling his duties or something.” Derec nodded slowly. “With someone as paranoid as Dr. Avery, I guess maybe those small variations might cause a review…if he noticed them.”

  “I am calculating probabilities only, of course,” said Mandelbrot. “I am balancing potential benefit against possible danger.”

  Derec realized, suddenly, that he welcomed the chance to rest. He didn’t think of himself as a coward, or feel afraid. In fact, the Robot City he remembered had not been nearly as dangerous as Aranimas, the pirate. Still, he just didn’t feel right. Maybe he should lie down.

  “All right, Mandelbrot,” he said. “You two go. We’ll stay here.”

  Chapter 4. Priority 4 Regional Contingency Power Station

  Mandelbrot climbed up the ladder from the office to the top of the Compass Tower with Wolruf clinging to his back. They got through the trapdoor without incident. Then the robot began the long but simple task of descending the narrow line of footholds down the steep front face of the pyramid.

  He almost certainly could have found his way down the labyrinth within the Compass Tower to the main entrance. However, he did not want to be questioned by security robots about his presence if he was found there. Derec had pointed out that if he was questioned about climbing down the outside of the Compass Tower, he would not have to reveal his knowledge of a secret entrance.

  Derec had also told him of how he and Ariel had painstakingly climbed down these small hand and footholds when they had first arrived on the planet. They were only as large as a hand or foot might require, and the severe angle of the pyramid face offered little margin for error. For a robot, of course, the descent presented no significant challenge.

  Mandelbrot spent the time of the descent considering how best to proceed. When they reached the ground, Wolruf let out a long sigh and collapsed in relief to the ground.

  “Are you harmed?” Mandelbrot asked her.

  “No.” The little alien shook her caninoid head back and forth. “Don’t like rride.”

  Mandelbrot looked around. A number of humanoid robots were walking briskly on their way; among them, a much larger number of function robots, of all sizes and varied shapes, pursued their own duties. In spite of the unfamiliar architecture, this was basically the Robot City he remembered from his other visit here.

  “What arr ‘u going to do now?” Wolruf inquired.

  “I must take a calculated risk,” said Mandelbrot. In a space of time too quick for the alien even to notice, he made contact with the central computer and said, “I am a humanoid robot requesting duty assignment in the city matrix.”

  “WHAT IS YOUR PRESENT ASSIGNMENT?”

  “None.”

  “WHAT WAS YOUR PREVIOUS ASSIGNMENT?”

  “None.”

  “YOU ARE IN ERROR. ALL ROBOTS IN ROBOT CITY HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED DUTIES. IF YOU HAVE RECENTLY BEEN RELEASED FROM A REPAIR FACILITY, YOU SHOULD GO THROUGH NORMAL REASSIGNMENT CHANNELS AT THAT FACILITY. “

  “I have not been recently released from a repair facility. I am prepared to undertake duty assignment.”

  “WHAT IS YOUR SERIAL NUMBER?”

  Mandelbrot invented one that fit the pattern of other serial numbers he had noticed on his last visit.

  “IT IS NOT ON FILE. ARE YOU A VISITOR TO ROBOT CITY?”

  That was the question for which Mandelbrot was waiting. The way the computer responded to his answer might determine whether or not he would become a fugitive. “You should have me on record. I have past history on Robot City.” It was not a falsehood, but it was deliberately misleading. He didn’t add that he was on record by the names Alpha and Mandelbrot, not by the number he had just made up. The need to protect himself and his human companions allowed him to feel comfortable with the misdirection.

  “YOUR NUMBER IS NOW ON FILE. YOU ARE NOW INCORPORATED INTO THE CITY MATRIX. YOU ARE ASSIGNED TO DUTY AT THE PRIORITY 4 REGIONAL CONTINGENCY POWER STATION. REPORT IMMEDIATELY.” The computer proceeded to give city coordinates for its location.

  Mandelbrot waited to see if the computer would attempt a, shift in his programming, but it did not. No matter how paranoid Avery was, he had not programmed suspicion of unemployed robots into the central computer. Now Mandelbrot was relieved.

  “I have been assigned a duty in the city matrix,” he said to Wolruf. “This will aid me in gathering information.” He was aware that the little alien had hardly had time to blink while he had conducted his exchange with the central computer.

  “Wherr do we go?” She asked.

  “We are going to Priority 4 Regional Contingency Power Station. This way.”

  “What is it?” Wolruf asked as she ambled along beside him, gazing around at the sights.

  “I surmise from its name that it supplies power to a limited portion of the city in the event of a failure in the main system. Priority 4 suggests a relatively important part of the city.”

  “Long walk?”

  “It is a greater distance than you would care to walk. However, I believe we will find a tunnel stop shortly along this street. Certainly one will be near the Compass Tower.”

  Mandelbrot did not want to consult the central computer again so soon for anything he could learn himself. The current location of tunnel stops was an example. Every time he asked a question that a Robot City robot should already know, he would increase the chances of being investigated or even forcibly repaired.

  They located a tunnel stop promptly, and rode down the moving ramp into the tunnel itself. Mandelbrot again placed Wolruf on his back, before stepping into the cramped platform booth. There was just enough room for both of them. He gave his destination to the console and let it figure out the nearest tunnel stop. Then they were off, riding the upright booth as it slid forward on the siding.

  A moment later, the booth swung into one of the trunk lines with the other moving platforms. Humanoid robots rode with them on all sides, as motionless as Mandelbrot within their booths. The computer sped them up, slowed them down, and changed them from one parallel trunk line to another as the traffic flow changed as a result of some booths entering from sidings and others exiting onto them.

  The booth they rode slowed smoothly, swung onto a siding, and glided to a stop. Mandelbrot stepped out and rode the ramp up to the street before setting Wolruf down again.

  This area of the city was not noticeably different from the one they had just left. The city was too new to have old and new neighborhoods as such. It was highly organized, of course, but much of the pattern was not readily visible, such as the power grid or the tunnel system.

  Mandelbrot oriented himself and led Wolruf to the power station. It was hardly more than a door in a very tall, narrow building wedged between others on three sides. Just as he entered, he used his comlink to report his assumed serial number, his name, and a request that communication be spoken aloud. In work stations of this kind, robots in Robot City often used their comlinks exclusively.

  “I am the Station Supervisor,” said a humanoid robot inside the door. “My name is Tamserole. I was told to expect you, Mandelbrot. Why do you wish to speak aloud?”

  “I have a personal preference for this.” Mandelbrot did not draw attention to Wolruf by looking at her or mentioning her. He knew she would listen carefully to any conversation. “What are my duties here?” He waited to see if Tamserole would require the use of comlinks.

  “Come with me.” Tamserole had glanced at Wolruf, but apparently had no interest in her.

  Mandelbrot and Wolruf followed Tamserole into the building. The inside was quite narrow and its single impressive feature was a pillar of shiny metal alloy, one meter thick, rising into the ceiling. A console of some kind was set into its base.

  “Our task,” said Tamserole, “is to make this unit fully automated so that l-and now you, of course-may discontinue our duties here and accept our migration programming.”

  Mandelbrot had no idea what m
igration programming was, but Tamserole obviously assumed he knew. At the moment, Mandelbrot did not dare reveal his ignorance.

  “I do not understand why I have been given an assistant by the central computer, when I have been told to reduce staff here to zero, not to increase it,” said Tamserole. “Do you know why?”

  “I believe so,” said Mandelbrot. “The central computer could not locate any past duty file on me. I think it decided to give me a redundant position until I prove my efficiency.”

  “That is logical enough,” said Tamserole. “I wish I had been informed, however.”

  “What is my duty?” Mandelbrot asked again.

  “I have been changing the procedure since learning you would join me,” said Tamserole. “Until now, I have been programming the local memory of the central computer terminal in this console to make the judgements I have previously made myself. I will now leave you here to familiarize yourself with what I have done. Improve on it if you can.”

  “What is your new duty?”

  “I located areas in the power system that can be streamlined. I have already instructed function robots assigned to this station to meet me at certain areas of the city. I will supervise their improvements and attempt to identify other potential ones on the spot.”

  “Very well.” Mandelbrot moved to the console and began studying the various readouts.Wolruf followed him unobtrusively.

  Tamserole left the station without further discussion.

  Mandelbrot first looked quickly through the information that told him the range and system that the station governed. As he had surmised, this was a backup facility that only went on line when and if the main power system failed. Once he had learned some basic information about his new duty, he ignored his work in order to call up the central computer through the console.

  Questions posed through the console would initially be interpreted by the central computer as normal activity at the power station. If they aroused enough suspicion, of course, the central computer would realize that they were irrelevant to station duty and might be coming from the same humanoid robot who could not explain his recent past. Mandelbrot could not, however, pass up this opportunity.

  Since the central computer had already refused to admit that Dr. Avery was on the planet, he would have to begin with indirect approaches. At least he had more information to work with than he had had in Avery’s office.

  “What is migration programming?” He asked.

  “PROGRAMMING THAT INSTRUCTS EACH HUMANOID ROBOT TO REPORT TO ITS ASSIGNED ASSEMBLY POINT.”

  “What is the purpose of this programming?”

  “TO INSURE THAT EACH ROBOT ARRIVES ON SCHEDULE AT ITS ASSIGNED ASSEMBLY POINT.”

  That was no help.

  “What is the purpose of the assembly point?”

  “IT IS A RENDEZVOUS SITE FOR MIGRATING ROBOTS.”

  “What will the robots do at their assembly points?”

  “THEY WILL FOLLOW THEIR PROGRAMMING.”

  “What will their programming be at that time?”

  “IT WILL VARY WITH EACH ROBOT.”

  Mandelbrot was about to ask for an example when the computer returned with its own question.

  “WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF YOUR QUESTIONS?”

  Mandelbrot considered aborting the dialogue, but did not want to raise any further questions about his behavior. He answered cautiously. “To learn why robots are migrating and what they will do at the assembly points.”

  “YOUR MIGRATION PROGRAMMING IS SUFFICIENT INFORMATION FOR YOU AT THIS TIME.”

  Mandelbrot did not dare reveal that he had not received such programming. If the city realized that, it would almost certainly try to program him. He might lose his independence in that event, and become an integral part of the city matrix. He looked down at Wolruf, who was waiting patiently.

  “I will fulfill my duties here for a time and try to gather more information,” said Mandelbrot. “Do you feel safe in moving around on your own?”

  “Yess,” said Wolruf. “Will walk around. Come back herr to meet u’. Okay?”

  Mandelbrot considered the central computer. If he inadvertently alerted it in some way and triggered an investigation, he would not want to remain here. “I prefer a neutral site. Can you get back to that tunnel stop we used to get here?”

  “Yess,” Wolruf hissed with her version of a grin. She obviously thought it a silly question. “ ‘U say when.”

  Derec was lying on the couch with his eyes closed, tossing fitfully. He had eaten as much as he wanted, though he had had to force down enough to constitute even a small meal. Before, he had felt too weak to sit up; now, he was too restless to relax.

  “Turn over,” Ariel said gently.

  “Huh?” Derec started to look up at her, but he felt her hands slide under his shoulders and push him carefully onto his other side.

  “Lie face down,” she said.

  He welcomed the chance to follow directions instead of make decisions. When he tried to push himself to roll over all the way, though, his hands kept slipping on the fabric. Both his arms flailed weakly, accomplishing nothing. Finally, her slender fingers groped under his arms for a moment and gripped him just enough to help him onto his front.

  Derec let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. Her fingertips began massaging the muscles of his upper back. Instantly, the tension began to break a little at a time.

  As he relaxed, he concentrated more on the relief in his muscles that her massaging brought about. He could feel tiny vibrations each time she pushed, as though very slight kinks were snapping. Itwas like loosening any ordinary adhesion that might build up, such as a crick in one’s back, only they were very small.

  “Is this helping?” She asked.

  “Yes,” he whispered, not wanting to put out the energy to speak aloud. “It’s wonderful.”

  She gradually worked her way downward. He could feel her breaking these kinks all the while. As more of his muscles were freed of them, he was able to relax a little more, and he became drowsy.

  She continued for a time without speaking.

  “You really feel bad?” Ariel spoke softly after a while. “I mean, you haven’t been awake that long.”

  “Sleepy,” he whispered faintly. Her fingertips were a persistent, rhythmic source of pleasure. They moved back up to his shoulder muscles again and broke more of the adhesions.

  He stopped relaxing. After a moment, he noticed it himself. As he started to wake up again, he opened his eyes, wondering what had happened.

  “Feeling better?” She asked cheerfully.

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “What is it? Should I stop?”

  “Could you-I mean, would you mind doing my upper back again? Right away?”

  “Sure.” She returned her hands to the area where she had started, and where she had just kneaded a second time already.

  “Thanks.” Derec paid close attention this time. The same kinks were loosened as before. He felt the same vibrations, the little snappings that relieved him of tension in the muscle.

  Only those kinks had returned almost instantly. Not as many were back, at least not yet. He felt fewer this time than either time before. Still, the pattern was clear. The massages would have to be constant to do him any good.

  “Is that better?”

  “Uh-it’s fine. Look, I don’t want you to tire yourself out. Thank you. It does help.” That was true, but he couldn’t have her do so much work indefinitely for relief that lasted only a matter of seconds, or perhaps a few minutes.

  “I’m glad.” Ariel quit, but remained sitting next to him, flexing her fingers.

  “Could you help me turn over?”

  “Of course.”

  Again, his arms were weak and rubbery when he tried to push himself onto one side. She took his shoulders and brought him around in a kind of twist, where his pelvis and legs lay prone, but his upper body lay on one side. Then she moved to his legs and, with considerable effort, pulled him en
tirely onto his side.

  “There.” She let out a breath and smiled.

  He looked up to study her face. His secret hadn’t lasted very long. He was clearly in serious trouble and worsening rapidly.

  “Derec? What is it?”

  “I don’t see how I’m going to make it.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I’m so tired. And weak. You can see for yourself. Avery could be anywhere on the planet, and I don’t think I have much time.” Even his tongue was slurring a little.

  “You shouldn’t talk like that.” Her voice was sharp with some of her old spirit. “Mandelbrot can do anything a robot can do, plus some extras. And hasn’t Wolruf proven herself many times over?”

  “The time,” said Derec. His anger flared, giving him energy. “We just don’t have much time. Sure, I think we-or they, anyhow-can find Avery sooner or later. But it may be too late for me.”

  “After everything that’s happened to us? You’re going to give up now? Come on!”

  “Well, what can I do? Just lie here?”

  “Maybe we can still think of something. We got away from Aranimas, didn’t we? We got out of Rockliffe Station, and we solved the shapechanging and the murder mystery-or I should say, you did…” Her voice trailed off.

  He waited a moment, expecting her to continue. When she didn’t, he looked up at her.

  She was staring at him with horror on her face. Startled, he raised up enough to look himself over, but saw nothing unusual. He passed his hand in front of her face but she did not react.

  “Ariel,” he said firmly.

  “It’s Derec,” she whispered. “He looks just like Derec. It’s impossible.” Suddenly she turned and leaped off the bed, only to run into the desk almost immediately. Her legs buckled and she thumped hard on the floor, blinking rapidly.

  Derec forced himself up on one elbow and reached down to grip her arm. “Ariel. Can you hear me?”

  She was looking around the room very slowly. At first she didn’t seem to hear him, but then she nodded, almost imperceptibly. “You’re up,” she said, surprised.