The animal at once rose to its full height and roared deafeningly. Gnut advanced. Then closed again, and the separation of before was repeated. The robot continued inexorably, and now the gorilla began to fall back down the building.
Suddenly the beast darted at a manlike shape against the wall, and with one rapid side movement dashed the fifth robot attendant to the floor and decapitated it.
Tense with fear, Cliff crouched behind his own robot attendant. He thanked Heaven that Gnut was between him and the gorilla and was continuing his advance. The gorilla backed further, darted suddenly at the next robot in the row, and with strength almost unbelievable picked it up from its roots and hurled it at Gnut. With a sharp metallic clang, robot hit robot, and the one of Earth bounced off to one side and rolled to a stop.
Cliff cursed himself for it afterward, but again he completely forgot the picture. The gorilla kept falling back down the building, demolishing with terrific bursts of rage every robot attendant that he passed and throwing the pieces at the implacable Gnut. Soon they arrived opposite the table, and Cliff now thanked his stars he had come away. There followed a brief silence. Cliff could not make out what was going on, but he imagined that the gorilla had at least reached the corner of the wing and was trapped.
If he was, it was only for a moment. The silence was suddenly shattered by a terrific roar, and the thick, squat shape of the animal came bounding toward Cliff. He came all the way back and turned just between Cliff and the port of the ship. Cliff prayed frantically for Gnut to come back quickly, for there was now only the last remaining robot attendant between him and the madly dangerous brute. Out of the dimness Gnut did appear. The gorilla rose to its full height and again beat its chest and roared its challenge.
And then occurred a curious thing. It fell on all fours and slowly rolled over on its side, as if weak or hurt. Then panting, making frightening noises, it forced itself again to its feet and faced the oncoming Gnut. As it waited, its eye was caught by the last robot attendant and perhaps Cliff, shrunk close behind it.
With a surge of terrible destructive rage, the gorilla waddled sideward toward Cliff, but this time, even through his panic, he saw that the animal moved with difficulty, again apparently sick or severely wounded. He jumped back just in time; the gorilla pulled out the last robot attendant and hurled it violently at Gnut, missing him narrowly.
That was its last effort. The weakness caught it again; it dropped heavily on one side, rocked back and forth a few times, and fell to twitching. Then it lay still and did not move again.
The first faint pale light of the dawn was seeping into the room. From the corner where he had taken refuge, Cliff watched closely the great robot. It seemed to him that he behaved very queerly. He stood over the dead gorilla, looking down at him with what in a human would be called sadness. Cliff saw this clearly; Gnut’s heavy greenish features bore a thoughtful, grieving expression new to his experience. For some moments he stood so, then as might a father with his sick child, he leaned over, lifted the great animal in his metal arms and carried it tenderly within the ship.
Cliff flew back to the table, suddenly fearful of yet other dangerous and inexplicable happenings. It struck him that it might be safer in the laboratory, and with trembling knees he made his way there and hid in one of the big ovens. He prayed for full daylight. His thoughts were chaos. Rapidly, one after another, his mind churned up the amazing events of the night, but all was mystery; it seemed there could be no rational explanation for them. That mockingbird. The gorilla. Gnut’s sad expression and his tenderness. What could account for a fantastic melange like that!
Gradually full daylight did come. A long time passed. At last he began to believe he might yet get out of this place of mystery and danger alive. At eight-thirty there were noises at the entrance, and the good sound of human voices came to his ears. Stealthily Cliff sneaked down the narrow way and peeped fearfully around the ship. There Gnut was in his accustomed place, in the identical pose he had taken at the death of his master, brooding sullenly and alone over a space traveler once again closed tight and a room that was in shambles. The entrance doors stood open and, heart in mouth, Cliff ran out.
A few minutes later, safe in his hotel room, completely done in, he sat down for a second time and almost at once fell asleep. Later, still in his clothes and still asleep, he staggered over to the bed. He did not wake up till midafternoon.
Chapter 3
Cliff awoke slowly, at first not realizing that the images tumbling in his head were real memories and not a fantastic dream. It was recollection of those pictures which brought him to his feet. Hastily he set about developing the film in his camera.
Then in his hands was proof that the events of the night were real. Both shots turned out well. The first showed clearly the ramp leading up to the port as he had dimly discerned it from his position behind the table. The second, of the open port as snapped from the front, was a disappointment, for a blank wall just back of the opening cut off all view of the interior. That would account for the fact that no light had escaped from the ship while Gnut was inside. Assuming Gnut required light for whatever he did.
Cliff looked at the negatives and was ashamed of himself. What a rotten picture man he was to come back with two ridiculous shots like these! He had had a score of opportunities to get real ones—shots of Gnut in action—Gnut’s fight with the gorilla—even Gnut holding the mockingbird—spine-chilling stuff!—and all he had brought back were two stills of a doorway. Oh, sure, they were valuable, but he was a grade-A ass.
And to top this brilliant performance, he had fallen asleep!
Well, he’d better get out on the street and find out what was doing.
Quickly he showered, shaved, and changed his clothes, and soon was entering a nearby restaurant patronized by other picture and newsmen. Sitting alone at the lunch bar, he spotted a friend and competitor.
“Well, what do you think?” asked his friend when he took the stool at his side.
“I don’t think anything until I’ve had breakfast,” Cliff answered.
“Then you haven’t heard?”
“Heard what? fended Cliff, who knew very well what was coming.
“You’re a fine picture man,” was the other’s remark. “When something really big happens, you are asleep in bed.” But then he told him what had been discovered that morning in the museum, and of the worldwide excitement at the news. Cliff did three things at once, successfully—gobbled a substantial breakfast, kept thanking his stars that nothing new had transpired, and showed continuous surprise. Still chewing, he got up and hurried over to the building.
Outside, balked at the door, was a large crowd of the curious, but Cliff had no trouble gaining admittance when he showed his press credentials. Gnut and the ship stood just as he left them, but the floor had been cleaned up and the pieces of the demolished robot attendants were lined up in one place along the wall. Several other competitor friends of his were there.
“I was away; missed the whole thing,” he said to one of them—Gus. “What’s supposed to be the explanation for what happened?”
“Ask something easy,” was the answer. “Nobody knows. It’s thought maybe something came out of the ship, maybe another robot like Gnut. Say—where have you been?”
“Asleep.”
“Better catch up. Several billion bipeds are scared stiff. Revenge for the death of Klaatu. Earth about to be invaded.”
“But that’s …”
“Oh, I know it’s all crazy, but that’s the story they’re being fed; it sells news. But there’s a new angle turned up, very surprising. Come here.”
He led Cliff to the table where stood a knot of people looking with great interest at several objects guarded by a technician. Gus pointed to a long slide on which were mounted a number of short dark-brown hairs.
“Those hairs came off a large male gorilla,” Gus said with a certain hard-boiled casualness. “Mo
st of them were found among the sweepings of the floor this morning. The rest were found on the robot attendants.”
Cliff tried to look astounded. Gus pointed to the test tube partly filled with light amber fluid.
“And that’s blood, diluted—gorilla blood. It was found on Gnut’s arms.”
“Good Heaven!” Cliff managed to exclaim. “And there’s no explanation?”
“Not even a theory. It’s your big chance, wonder boy.”
Cliff broke away from Gus, unable to maintain his act any longer. He couldn’t decide what to do about his story. The press services would bid heavily for it—with all his pictures—but that would take further action out of his hands. In the back of his mind he wanted to stay in the wing again that night, but—well, he simply was afraid. He’d had a pretty stiff dose, and he wanted very much to remain alive.
He walked over and looked a long time at Gnut. No one would ever have guessed that he moved, or that there had rested on his greenish metal face a look of sadness. Those weird eyes! Cliff wondered if they were really looking at him, as they seemed, recognizing him as the bold intruder of last night. Of what unknown stuff were they made—those materials placed in his eye sockets by one branch of the race of man which all the science of his own could not even server to disfunction? What was Gnut thinking? What could be the thoughts of a robot—a mechanism of metal poured out of man’s clay crucibles? Was he angry at him? Cliff thought not. Gnut had had him at his mercy—and had walked away.
Dared he stay again?
Cliff thought perhaps he did.
He walked about the room, thinking it over. He felt sure that Gnut would move again. A Mikton ray gun would protect him from another gorilla—or fifty of them. He did not yet have the real story. He had come back with two miserable architectural stills!
He might have known from the first that he would stay. At dusk that night, armed with his camera and a small Mikton gun, he lay once more under the table of supplies in the laboratory and heard the metal doors of the wing clang to for the night.
This time he would get the story—and the pictures.
If only no guard was posted inside!
Chapter 4
Cliff listened hard for a long time for any sound which might tell him that a guard had been left, but the silence within the wing remained unbroken. He was thankful for that—but not quite completely. The gathering darkness and the realization that he was now irrevocable committed made the thought of a companion not altogether unpleasant.
About an hour after it reached maximum darkness he took off his shoes, tied them together and slung them around his neck, down his back, and stole quietly down the passageway to where it opened into the exhibition area. All seemed as it had been the preceding night. Gnut looked an ominous, indistinct shadow at the far end of the room, his glowing red eyes again seemingly right on the spot from which Cliff peeped out. As on the previous night, but even more carefully, Cliff went down on his stomach in the angle of the wall and slowly snaked across to the low platform on which stood the table. Once in its shelter, he fixed his shoes so they straddled one shoulder, and brought his camera and gun holster around, ready on his breast. This time, he told himself, he would get pictures.
He settled down to wait, keeping Gnut in full sight every minute. His vision reached maximum adjustment to the darkness. Eventually he began to feel lonely and a little afraid. Gnut’s red-glowing eyes were getting on his nerves; he had to keep assuring himself that the robot would not harm him. He had little doubt but that he himself was being watched.
Hours slowly passed. From time to time he heard slight noises at the entrance, on the outside—a guard, perhaps, or maybe curious visitors.
At about nine o’clock he saw Gnut move. First his head alone; it turned so that the eyes burned stronger in the direction where Cliff lay. For a moment that was all; then the dark metal form stirred slightly and began moving forward—straight toward him. Cliff had thought he would not be afraid — much — but now his heart stood still. What would happen this time?
With amazing silence, Gnut drew nearer, until he towered an ominous shadow over the spot where Cliff lay. For a long time his red eyes burned down on the prone man. Cliff trembled all over; this was worse than the first time. Without having planned it, he found himself speaking to the creature.
“You would not hurt me,” he pleaded. “ I was only curious to see what’s going on. It’s my job. Can you understand me? I would not harm or bother you. I … I couldn’t if I wanted to! Please!”
The robot never moved, and Cliff could not guess whether his words had been understood or even heard. When he felt he could not bear the suspense any longer, Gnut reached out and took something from a drawer of the table, or perhaps he put something back in; then he stepped back, turned, and retraced his steps. Cliff was safe! Again the robot had spared him!
Beginning then, Cliff lost much of his fear. He felt sure now that this Gnut would do him no harm. Twice he had had him in his power, and either time he had only looked and quietly moved away. Cliff could not imagine what Gnut had done in the drawer of the table. He watched with the greatest curiosity to see what would happen next.
As on the night before, the robot went straight to the end of the ship and made the peculiar sequence of sounds that opened the port, and when the ramp slid out he went inside. After that Cliff was alone in the darkness for a very long time, probably two hours. Not a sound came from the ship.
Cliff knew he should sneak up to the port and peep inside, but he could not quite bring himself to do it. With his gun he could handle another gorilla, but if Gnut caught him it might be the end. Momentarily he expected something fantastic to happen—he knew not what; maybe the mockingbird’s sweet song again, maybe a gorilla, maybe—anything. What did at last happen once more caught him with complete surprise.
He heard a sudden muffled sound, then words—human words—every one familiar.
“Gentlemen,” was the first, and then there was a very slight pause. “The Smithsonian Institution welcomes you to its new Interplanetary Wing and to the marvelous exhibits at this moment before you.”
It was the recorded voice of Stillwell! But it was not coming through the speakers overhead, but, much muted, from within the ship.
After a slight pause it went on:
“All of you must … must …” Here it stammered and came to a stop. Cliff’s hair bristled. That stammering was not in the lecture!
For just a moment there was silence; then came a scream, a hoarse man’s scream, muffled, from somewhere within the heart of the ship; and it was followed by muted gasps and cries, as of a man in great fright or distress.
Every nerve tight, Cliff watched the port. He heard a thudding noise within the ship, then out the door flew the shadow of what was surely a human being. Gasping and half stumbling, he ran straight down the room in Cliff’s direction. When twenty feet away, the great shadow of Gnut followed him out of the port.
Cliff watched, breathless. The man—it was Stillwell, he saw now—came straight for the table behind which Cliff himself lay, as if to get behind it, but when only a few feet away, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. Suddenly Gnut was standing over him, but Stillwell did not seem to be aware of it. He appeared very ill, but kept making spasmodic futile efforts to creep on to the protection of the table.
Gnut did not move, so Cliff was emboldened to speak.
“What’s the matter Stillwell?” he asked. “Can I help? Don’t be afraid. I’m Cliff Sutherland; you know, the picture man.”
Without showing the least surprise at finding Cliff there, and clutching at his presence like a drowning man would a straw, Stillwell gasped out:
“Help me! Gnut … Gnut …” He seemed unable to go on.
“Gnut what?” asked Cliff. Very conscious of the fire-eyed robot looming above, and afraid even to move out to the
man. Cliff added reassuringly: “Gnut won’t hurt you. I’m sure he won’t. He doesn’t hurt me. What’s the matter? What can I do?”
With a sudden accession of energy, Stillwell rose on his elbows.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“In the Interplanetary Wing,” Cliff answered. “Don’t you know?”
Only Stillwell’s hard breathing was heard for a moment. Then hoarsely, weakly he asked:
“How did I get here?”
“I don’t know,” said Cliff.
“I was making a lecture recording,” Stillwell said, “When suddenly I found myself here … or I mean in there —”
He broke off and showed a return of his terror.
“Then what?” asked Cliff gently.
“I was in that box — and there, above me, was Gnut, the robot. Gnut! But they made Gnut harmless! He’s never moved!”
“Steady now,” said Cliff. “I don’t think Gnut will hurt you.”
Stillwell fell back on the floor.
“I’m very weak, “ he gasped. “Something — Will you get a doctor?”
He was utterly unaware that towering above him, eyes boring down at him through the darkness, was the robot he feared so greatly.
As Cliff hesitated, at a loss what to do, the man’s breath began coming in short gasps, as regular as the ticking of a clock. Cliff dared to move out to him, but no act on his part could have helped the man now. He gasps weakened and became spasmodic, then suddenly he was completely silent and still. Cliff felt for his heart, then looked up to the eyes in the shadow above.
“He is dead,” he whispered.
The robot seemed to understand, or at least to hear. He bent forward and regarded the still figure.
“What is it, Gnut?” Cliff asked the robot suddenly. “What are you doing? Can I help you in any way? Somehow I don’t believe you are unfriendly, and I don’t believe you killed this man. But what happened? Can you understand me? Can you speak? What it is you are trying to do?”
Adventures in Time and Space Page 102