Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flow’rs are dying
‘Tis you, ‘tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, and all the flow’rs are dying
If I am dead, as dead I well may be
I pray you’ll find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me
And all my grave will warm and sweeter be
And then you’ll kneel and whisper that you love me
Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so.
For several moments after Paul finished the last note, Capie said nothing, frowning instead, deep in thought.
“You didn’t like that?” Paul asked, puzzled by her reaction.
“Yes, I did,” she replied with a sad smile. “It was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. I’ve never heard that song sung better. Thank you. In fact, I have never heard any voice sing any song like that before. You did use magic to alter your voice, right?”
Paul shrugged, still not understanding why she hadn’t liked his performance. “Yes, I did. I used a combination of Andy Williams, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Jim Nabors, David Archuleta and Harry Connick, Jr, combining the best elements of all their voices. Sort of like what Data did when he was playing a violin in the episode “The Ensigns of Command” in Star Trek: The Next Generation.”
“Yes, I thought so,” she said with a ghost of a smile. “You did a very good job of it. But it has made me realize something.”
Paul frowned, now confused. “What?”
“This magic business,” she said. “Color me slow but I’ve never quite realized until now how much of an impact it will have on us. I mean, it can do far more than just cure spinal injuries. It could give me a perfect singing voice too, right? And painting skills, dancing skills, playing any instrument known to man, and so on and so on. And it can make me the most beautiful woman on Earth and nearly immortal as well. In fact, it’s taken until this moment for me to fully understand why the wizards of Errabêlu look down on mere Normals. It would be hard not to do so when they have perfect talents and perfect bodies that live nearly forever while everyone else is so obviously imperfect and thus inferior.”
Paul considered her words. “Yes, it’s the Gary Mitchell syndrome in the Star Trek episode “Where No Man Has Gone Before.” And yes, this thought occurred to me earlier as well. This kind of power is addictive as well as dangerous.”
“Yes, it is,” she acknowledged. “Paul, please promise me something. Please don’t let it change us. I love you just the way you are, with all of your imperfections. Please don’t make yourself into a Gary Mitchell. And I will work on keeping myself imperfect too. Let’s not become what they are: arrogant, sadistic, and selfish monsters.”
Paul nodded and smiled. “It’s going to be hard, you know. We use magic for so many things. It’s faster and so much easier to use than muscle power. But it’s a deal. I too love you for yourself, though I do want to see you become perfectly healthy. But otherwise, I agree. We need to work at staying as we are.”
What a wonderful and special woman he had married!
SEVEN
The planet Mars
Coprates Chasma
Gathol House
Wednesday, 3:33 p.m. LMST
December
Day 33
Capie was quietly building herself up to a full-blown conniption fit, stomping around the room, slamming down boxes of books and other supplies on the stone tables in the room and practically throwing items into drawers and onto shelves.
She was slaving away in the Dejah Lab (from A Princess of Mars), another in the maze of underground manufactured rooms north of the house. This particular chamber was rather large, more than two thousand square feet of floor space. For the moment, it was far more than she needed but, in time, her research and production of the MBE drug would fill all this space and several more laboratories like it, once they were hollowed out as well. She anticipated employing an entire army of Scotties in these rooms for that purpose at that time.
Right now, she would have been happy to have the assistance of just one such Scottie.
The hardware and supplies she had on hand were those she had brought from Earth in the cargo hold of the Sirius Effort, and they had been, by necessity, limited. However, there was more than enough to begin her research. And the quantity was such as to keep her busy for a few hours, sorting and organizing it all and setting up the appropriate working areas.
Up until three hours ago, Daneel 1 had been giving her a hand with all of the drudge work and they had been making fairly decent progress unpacking and putting everything into its appropriate location. But then Paul had casually dropped in and begged/borrowed/stole the Scottie ‘for a while, for a special project,’ to be returned promptly, just as soon as his small task was complete.
But three hours! Really! Capie was becoming increasingly convinced that she had been duped and that Paul had no intentions of returning Daneel 1 for the rest of the day. Indeed, she now strongly suspected that this would become a common place occurrence in the future, where his projects and work schedule might be, in his mind, of higher priority than anything she was working on.
Hence the growing anger on her part.
It just wouldn’t do, she suddenly decided in a huff. If she didn’t nip this sort of behavior in the bud now, Paul would never learn to cut her any slack in the future. And the Okar Workshop (The Warlord of Mars), where he was working today, was only fifty yards away via the interconnecting corridor. Time to pay him a visit and get Daneel 1 back.
In one-third gee, it was not easy to tromp out of the room but somehow Capie managed it.
The adjoining corridors were roughly hewn out of solid rock. Since they were considered industrial and temporary at that, Paul had decided that there was really no particular purpose in improving their appearance. There wasn’t even any lighting or provisions for such.
However, there was a three-way sign at the corridor junction, posted there by one of the Daneels, though neither she nor Paul could get the perpetrator to admit doing it. The sign pointing to the left read “This Way!” The one to the right: “That Way!” And the third sign pointed straight up, reading “The Other Way!”
The only concession that Paul would make with the corridors was to level and smooth out the floor, both to accommodate wheeled carts and dollies and also as a safety issue in terms of eliminating potential trip hazards.
As Capie rounded the junction in the tunnel, she picked up a head of steam and stalked through the doorway of the Okar Workshop. Paul was turned, his back to her, working on some item or other on one of the work benches.
“Paul!” she barked, coming to a complete halt and putting both hands on hips. “Where are Daneels 1 and 2? How can I get any work—”
And then a hind portion of her brain got through to her conscious mind, loudly telling her that something unusual was in the room with them. Something—no, two somethings—that were floating in midair.
“What the…?”
Paul turned, grinning widely and pointed at the two objects. “Dear, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but ‘These are not the droids you are looking for,’ he said, quoting from Star Wars 4: A New Hope. “Instead, I’m honored to introduce to you the latest additions to our household, Daneel 3 and Daneel 4. Boys, say high to Mom.”
The two Scotties were vastly different in appearance to the first two Daneels. Both of the new Scotties were carbon black cubes, each eighteen inches on a side and otherwise completely featureless. No monitor screen, no switches, no seams, no
vents, no LEDs—nothing. Just black panels. And floating freely in midair, two feet above the work bench!
Daneel 3 spun 90 degrees and a very strange thing happened. A holographic image of a head appeared, projected out the top of the cube. It was instantly recognizable as Daneel’s head, with the same blond hair, the hazel eyes and the hint of freckles on nose and cheeks. But as a pure holographic image now, not on a LCD screen. What was more, it was totally life-like and utterly realistic. The total effect, with the black cube and his head sticking out the top, somewhat resembled a jack-in-the-box, an idea which she hurriedly dismissed.
“Hi, Mom,” said the Daneel image with a knowing smile. “Surprise! ‘Tony Stark was able to build this in a cave. With a box of scraps!’”
The other cube popped up an identical holographic image of Daneel’s head. “Daneel 4 reporting, Mom. How’s it going in the lab? Need a hand?”
“That’s a great idea, Daneels. You’re both free now to go help her,” Paul announced, with the wave of a hand before turning back to Capie. “Sorry it took so long, CB. There was a glitch in the personality cloning process. But how do you like the new look?”
Capie gulped and finally found her voice again. “I’ve been after you for months to do something about their unsightly neo-cubism appearance. But I didn’t expect a black cube!”
Her husband nodded, apparently amused by her comparison of the Scotties to a form of art. “The exterior panels consist of sheets of 10,000 layers of graphene. Extremely strong. And the talismans are tucked inside their frames. I beefed up the interior structure as well. These Daneels are bullet proof and can take a lot of pounding. In fact, this design is so successful that I’m doing a make-over of Daneels 1 and 2.”
Capie glanced over at the workbench and could see the chassis of one of the other Daneels, strung out in pieces, the LCD monitor off to one side.
“Hi, Mom,” said Daneel 1 on its screen, as it waved to her. “I’m positively delighted to get rid of the duct tape. Black is so chic, don’t you think?”
Daneel 2, sitting further down the bench, also waved from his LCD monitor. “The duct tape look was getting a bit ratty. But basic black…I don’t know. I’m thinking of adding red and white racing stripes.”
“Naw,” Daneel 3 said, chiming in to the argument. “Green and yellow dots, mate, that’s the ticket.”
“It’ll take me a couple of hours to get Daneels 1 and 2 squared away,” Paul told Capie, as he scratched one ear. “But please, feel free to take Daneels 3 and 4 with you.” He turned to the new Scotties. “Please help Mom all you can. Let me know if you have any problems, okay?”
“‘Compliance!’” the two new Daneels said in unison, floating toward the doorway.
“Come on, Mom,” said Daneel 4. “I have an idea on how to arrange your chemical cabinets.”
Paul raised an eyebrow at Capie. “What were you saying when you came in, CB?”
“Who, moi?” she asked with a feigned innocent air. “I just wanted to see if you have any preferences for dinner.”
“No, not really,” he replied with a small smirk. “Surprise me.”
With a quick grin, she said, “Funny man.” Then she turned and left.
Humming to himself, Paul turned and resumed work on a new titanium bracket for Daneel 1.
Ω
Day 38
“Dad? Oh, Dad?”
Paul turned to face the black cube floating up behind him. With fourteen operational copies of Daneels all active, he had found it necessary to paint a small number on the upper right corner of each of their cubes, in order to keep track of which one he was talking to at any particular moment.
“Yeah, Daneel 1? What’s up?” Paul asked.
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?” the Scottie asked, his holographic face projecting above the cube looking a bit apprehensive.
Paul chuckled. The task of keeping fourteen Scotties busy every day had rapidly gotten beyond his ability to keep up. So instead, Paul had appointed Daneel 1 as the group leader, a sort of squad sergeant, as it were. Paul’s intent was to eventually build an entire military organization, complete with all of the associated ranks. At the moment, however, Daneel 1 was taking Paul’s general overall directions and translating them into specific work tasks for all the other Scotties. Which seemed to be working rather well. Paul was delighted that Daneel 1 had been able to step up to the plate so handily.
“Of course,” Paul replied. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, Dad, I’m a little confused on direction here,” the Scottie admitted. “I know that you intend to create another six Daneels in the next generation of Scotties. But, at the moment, we only have three spare CPU modules and the discrete components to fabricate maybe four, possibly five motherboards.”
“Correct,” Paul said agreeably. “And then there is the lack of talismans for those six new Scotties.”
“Right. Now, Mom is keeping three of us busy helping her. And I’ve got Daneels 2 and 3 looking for pallasite meteorites, Daneels 5 and 6 at Syrtis Major mining komatiite, Daneels 4, 7 and 8 mining bertranite near Olympus Mons, and Daneels 9 and 10 scouring the planet looking for tantalum. So far, they aren’t having much luck.”
“What’s the confusion?”
“I understand the need for the talismans,” Daneel 1 admitted. “But what good will the talismans be without the Scotties to go with them? Shouldn’t we also be collecting new material for the CPUs? And what do we do about the lack of the discrete components? The diodes, transistors, capacitors and such? All of the ones we’ve used so far we brought with us from Earth. Shouldn’t we now fabricate the other discrete components we need here on Mars?”
“Lots of questions, I see,” Paul noted with approval. “So let’s answer a few of them. As you know, Christmas is coming up pretty soon, and that is going to disrupt our schedule a bit. There really isn’t time to add six new Scotties with talismans before the holidays, so we are going to modify our objectives a little.”
Daneel 1 looked even more bewildered. “In what way?”
“First, by all means, I want to keep the Daneels on the mineralogical surveys. We need to know where to find the metals and minerals for the new Scotties. We will focus on their construction after Christmas. And don’t worry about the discrete components. I have a plan to furnish them later. But for right now, I would like to concentrate on two other tasks, other than the surveys.”
“And they are?”
“First, I want to make two chutzpahs, one for Capie and one for you. That’s all we can afford to make, for now. So, have the Scotties mine what is needed for just two chutzpahs from the deposits they find, process it, and perform the isotope conversions. But don’t do the chutzpah ceremonies. Not yet.”
“You said there were two tasks.”
“Right. Second, I want two volunteers for a special mission.”
“A special mission?” Daneel 1 asked frowning. “Is it dangerous?”
“It could be,” Paul admitted uncomfortably. “I need them to go to John Doe Mons. They won’t have to stay there long. Two days, maybe. For a special high power project.”
“Is it a secret?” Daneel 1 grimaced and looked down. “More important, do I really want to know what they will be asked to do.”
“Oh, I think you will approve.”
Ω
Day 44
“Have you talked to Ariel-Leira recently, CR?” Capie asked with a hint of aggravation.
Paul grimaced, instantly peeved, knowing exactly how his wife felt. The mirror woman had recently started whining about the view out the window, how static and how brown it all was, insisting on a change of venue. Unfortunately, it was already the best view on the entire planet.
The two of them were at the breakfast table, eating pancakes covered with maple syrup with a side order of bacon. The meal had been prepared by Daneel 14, who was doing most of the breakfast cooking these days.
“I’m open to suggestions on her situation,” he
muttered. “I’m thinking, at the first chance we get, we send her back to Earth.”
“Amen to that idea!” Capie chuckled curtly.
A change of subject was needed here, Paul knew. Fortunately, he had one.
“What’s on your schedule for today?” he asked with an innocent air. “Have you got time to come see something important?”
“I’m really busy right now!” protested Capie irritably as she waved a fork in her husband’s direction. “I am busy mapping all the human DNA strands. You have no idea how complicated that is!” she added.
“You will want to make time for this,” Paul assured her with his most charming smile. “And it won’t take long. A couple of hours, if even that much.”
“But you won’t tell me what this is all about?”
“It’s a surprise,” he informed her.
“Not my birthday, our anniversary, nor is it Christmas yet,” she muttered. Then she sighed and put on a tired smile. “Okay, but only because I love you. And I want to leave Daneels 6 and 9 working in the lab while I’m gone.”
“Sold!” Paul responded with a wide grin.
Ω
“Where are we?” Capie asked as she stepped free of the portal and glanced around the horizon through the diamond helmet of the spacesuit she was wearing.
“Ascraeus Mons,” Daneel 1 replied. “The second tallest mountain and volcano on all of Mars, a mere 59,793 feet tall. Of course, we are not quite that high up since we are standing on the main caldera. It’s more like 48,600 feet above datum. We are approximately dead center of the volcano so it’s possible to see most of the rim around us, except for where the other, older calderas overlap.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why are we here?” Capie asked, glancing curiously over at Paul.
Several feet away, a new portal opened up and four more of the Daneels flew through. All four had extruded holographic ‘arms’ out the sides of their cubes. And in their ‘hands’ each one was carrying an object.
Capie’s breath caught in her throat. “Is that an emerald crystal? And a block of tantalum?” She swung on Paul. “A talisman? Or a chutzpah?”
The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War Page 7