The Virtual Dead

by E. R. Mason

Chief Hank Wandell stood precariously close to the jagged edge of the gaping sinkhole. It looked like a gateway to hell. It had already swallowed a considerable section of one city block and seemed unwilling to stabilize. He peered over the one-hundred-foot drop at the rushing river below, listening to his rescue team coordinator’s plea.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this Hank, ever. They had one in Mexico a while back, a real monster, but not like this. That cave entrance and the big rocks at the bottom kinda look like the caves we dive in at Blue Springs. This thing must be ancient. The water’s fast, but it’s still only about chest high. If we took some gear down there and some safety equipment, we could probably get in.”

  Shaking his head, Wandell tried to sound conciliatory. "No one else, I repeat, no one is going back down into that thing. I don't care, Steve. We know it’s blocked by beams farther in. We nearly lost your man on the last try, and he was barely down. For god's sake, you can see the thing's still caving in!"

  In silent protest, the frustrated team leader walked back to his associates, where he quietly conveyed the Chief's rejection of their plan.

  Wandell stared down fearfully into the massive pit. All around, the sides were continuing to collapse, covering the tangled mass of cars, power lines, and ragged chunks of asphalt that had fallen in. This was a granddaddy as sinkholes went, one and one-half acres of disappearing parking lot and roadway. It had barely missed several residential homes and one old brick business building. The farthest point across was at least two hundred and fifty feet. The collapse had happened so suddenly it was fortunate that more people had not gone down with it. Had the nearby county office building been open for business, and it would have in another couple of hours, its parking lot would have been routinely busy. He shuddered at the thought of how many might have been lost.

  But there was no real relief in the thought, for one family had been unlucky. There had been no chance of escaping the ride down into the mouth of the collapse. The rear door of their late model minivan marked the spot where their nightmare had begun. The van had crashed into the rushing water and submerged nose first, forcing the horrified parents to escape through open windows as they clutched at their seven-year-old son. But the current had been too strong. It had taken the boy down into the darkness of the half-filled tunnel at the deepest end. Wandell's team had arrived in time to save the parents, but the continuing breakup around the pit, and the rushing water had made it too dangerous to send searchers into the tunnel, though several were asking to go.

  Wandell glanced back at his rescue team. For all of man's faults it seemed there was never a shortage of individuals willing to do anything to save a child in trouble. He looked with guilt and anxiety at the several hundred people being held back from the site. They were there partly to gawk at the size of the hole, but mainly to express their concern for the missing boy. They massed around the large, yellow crane mounted on its jacks as close as possible to the edge. The heavy machine easily used up what little parking lot remained. Its boom extended out over the pit with an empty rescue harness suspended from it.

  Wandell struggled with his decision. They would wait. The boy’s chances were slim to none. The re-formation would have to stabilize enough to risk the life of someone on the rescue team unless a better way could be found. He cursed under his breath and looked up to see a speeding white van suddenly race onto the scene. It maneuvered carefully through the masses, pulled up alongside the command station and parked with a jerk. From the passenger's door a bearded, gray-haired man practically jumped out of the vehicle. He appeared disoriented and ruffled from a ride much faster than he was accustomed to. He straightened his outmoded gray suit jacket and ill-matching tie and took in the crowded, disheveled landscape. Behind him, Scott Markman hurriedly emerged from the driver's side. He wrenched up the back of his washed out blue jeans and tucked in his blue cotton dress shirt. He gestured with concern and moved around to the side of the van to slide open its large loading door.

  Cassiopia Cassell climbed out from the shadows within, her slinky figure shaping the soft white shift she wore, her long ivory blonde hair splayed over the right shoulder. The thin, sheer fabric skirt ended above the knee and the stockings and heels were obvious evidence that her presence had been required without warning.

  Professor Cassell, finally satisfied he had somehow survived Markman's wild driving, met his daughter as she stepped down. Behind her, the vehicle's principal cargo came dimly into view.

  Seated within the equipment-packed van was something that looked alien. Though its form was humanoid, the dull, chrome finish of its body placed it radically apart from anything even close to human. The molded mechanical joints in the arms and legs displayed a complexity that seemed beyond that of modern science. The softly-glowing, gold-tinted wraparound visor sunken into the smooth metal face suggested life of a different kind. The heavy robot waited patiently, its elaborate, micro-cable-driven hands resting idly in its lap. A hush began to circulate through the crowd of onlookers.

  "Come out, please Tel," commanded Cassiopia.

  The robot responded. Those who had not noticed what was transpiring now stopped to stare at the unearthly sight. The robot lumbered out the open door, carefully placing its massive legs in calculated steps as it crouched below the low ceiling of the rocking, burdened van. It stepped down to the sound of softly whirring motors, straightened up, and assumed its desired position of rest, standing loyally before Cassiopia.

  Chief Wandell approached the small group and stopped next to Markman. He appraised the shiny machine with distrust. It had been involved in a previous case in which several people had been killed, and a number of odd questions had remained unanswered.

  "What is this, Scott?" Wandell looked annoyed.

  "Have you sent anyone back down for the kid yet?"

  "No. It's still collapsing all around. Nobody can go into that thing."

  Markman glanced at the robot and then back at Wandell. "He can."

  A moment of doubt and hope was exchanged among the group as they appraised the TEL 100D.

  Professor Cassell took his daughter by the arm and led her a short distance away. He brushed an errant ant from her long silver-blonde hair and spoke apprehensively. "Daughter, you understand I have extremely serious doubts about this."

  "Father, he can do this, I know he can."

  "My dear, you have meddled with Tel's intellect to such an extent that I am no longer sure what it will do."

  "Why do you say that?"

  The Professor sighed and shook his head tiredly. "You have given the thing a mind of its own. Do you know it refuses to do certain mundane tasks when I ask it?"

  "What? What are you talking about?"

  "It evades some of the menial jobs that are contained in its programming base. It can recite all of the proper steps and sequences, but when the requirement comes due, it somehow manages to be involved with other matters and is very evasive when questioned."

  "Father, you're overreacting. After all, he saved my life once, didn't he? ...And probably yours, also."

  "Yes, yes, that's true, with the help of a certain friend of yours. But that does not justify inconsistency in its actions, daughter."

  Cassiopia placed her hand on her father's arm and gazed reassuringly into his brown eyes. "Father, Tel could bring back a small boy."

  "Yes, dear daughter, and you understand, that is the only reason I'm going along with this madness."

  Markman came up alongside them. "We're about ready, Cass. If you're still willing to try this."

  With a last reassuring look to her father, Cassiopia returned to the robot. The shadow from the crane's boom passed over them as the operator lowered the nylon harness within reach of Markman. Cassiopia spoke. "Tel, do you understand the program objective?"

  The robot replied coarsely, "Yes, Cassiopia, locate and retrieve designated subject."

  "And do you understand this will be a fully autonomous procedure? You may not default to any
requirement for supplemental user input?"

  "Yes Cassiopia, there will be no user interface until return to starting coordinates."

  "Okay, Tel, say assigned time limitations for this task."

  "Four hours from user mark. If objective has not been located, return to starting coordinates for user-assisted task termination."

  With a nod of affection, she checked the small access doors on the robot's chest plate, the fourth time she had done so. "Tel, say self-protection perimeters."

  "No system operations or exposures calculated to be in excess of 100D limitations. Power levels must remain equal to or greater than fifty percent. Violations of these limits constitutes default to return instructions when no other subroutines apply."

  "That's good, Tel, very good."

  Markman pulled the harness over to the robot and cast a nervous glance at her. She took hold of one of the straps and opened the single-man harness for the robot to see. "Tel, do you understand this lifting attachment?"

  "Yes, Cassiopia, a simple quick release mechanism."

  With Markman's help, she fit the lightweight straps onto Tel's hard body and secured it. A pang of painful affection swept over her as the reality of what they were about to attempt set in.

  "Tel, you are to protect yourself at all times. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Cassiopia." The robot's machine voice sounded almost annoyed.

  Markman signaled the crane operator, and the harness slowly tightened around Tel's rigid upper body. Its oversized, shoe-shaped feet remained locked in their horizontal position as it was hoisted upward and gently swung into position over the hole. Its dull, mirrored finish cast random glints of morning light as it turned slowly at the end of the taut cable.

  The lowering began, down past the plane of broken earth and into the massive cave-in. The crowd pressed at the police barriers in an attempt to see, as Tel approached a spot within the pile of twisted garbage that was interrupting the flow of water.

  The crane operator paused, waiting for the cable's slow, uncontrolled rotation to bring the robot around to face the rugged cave entrance. When the correct posturing had been achieved, he lowered the weighty legs down into the water and continued until Tel was submerged halfway up its chest plate. With one of its powerful hands, Tel held to a half-buried, jagged piece of asphalt, while using the other to press free the harness's quick release. The cable swung upward and away, leaving Tel to mark its time and choose a path into the darkness.

  For a moment the robot stood motionless, as though fearful to proceed. Cassiopia, Professor Cassell, Markman, and Chief Wandell watched breathlessly from a position precariously close to the edge. The Professor shook his head with ever-increasing doubt. But a moment later, Tel began its journey without looking back. It reached forward, grabbing whatever was available and pushed through the rushing river, disappearing into the mouth of the underground.

  "If only we had time to set up telemetry," said Cassiopia, her eyes staring blankly into the distance. She looked at Markman who returned a supportive stare. "We would have been able to monitor his progress. We would have known he was okay."

  "It wouldn't have changed much," he replied. "It would still be out of reach."

  The waiting began. The onlookers gradually dispersed into smaller groups, and the low drone of idle conversations again drifted through the air. After thirty minutes of hoping for a quick, miraculous rescue, Wandell and Markman left the edge of the hole and moved over to talk with the restless members of the rescue team. Some of them seemed stunned that a machine might be able to do more than they. Cassiopia and her father returned to the van, where the Professor fell asleep in the back, while Cassiopia pretended to study handwritten scrawls of formulas and programs in the passenger side of the front seat. The worn, aqua-blue notebook in her lap was the only thing she had time to grab on her way out. She found herself repeatedly looking out the open window in the direction of the rescue team, too often to seriously consider the paperwork in hand. Even though she feared greatly for the beloved robot, as well as the small boy it searched for, something else was also troubling her.

  Cassiopia felt insecure. It was quite possible that she was in love with Markman. Having spent most of her young life skipping ahead through classes and leaving behind temporary friends, she had found serious social attachment a concept easy to avoid. And though she had excelled at math and science, she was practically illiterate in matters concerning the heart.

  So it had come quite unexpectedly that someone equally inept in social protocol had been able to break through the barriers that she had so scrupulously constructed to protect herself from that awkward and illogical custom called intimacy. Now she found herself completely lacking the necessary understanding to sort out her own tangled emotions. Poring over dozens of pages of dry programming data had always been like eating candy to her. But suddenly there were frequent, annoying interruptions from within; feelings that would pop up out of turn, seemingly immune to her usual discipline.

  But there was a pleasantness about it all. The distractions left her seeing his face or feeling his touch, such troublesome things. It wasn't supposed to happen this fast. Was it?

  Cassiopia took refuge in the fact that she had not yet committed herself to anything. No superficial sentiments were required of her. She didn't actually have to tell him she cared for him if indeed that's what this unwanted distraction was all about. Besides, she had absolutely no idea how to go about doing such things. Most likely this was a trivial phase reaction to the new socio-physical experience of having made love once, well twice, and it was likely to fade quickly away and bother her no more. That would be that. She returned to her page of robotic personality enhancement programs. They were by far more interesting than anything else. Weren't they?

  Would he be feeling similar things? Certainly she wouldn't ask him about such matters; it might imply involvement of her own. Oh well, these things were of no consequence. Back to the safe, familiar world of binary math, where everything in the known universe could be expressed in the wonderful simplicity of zeros and ones; cold and concise, completely reliable and with sufficient time, always understandable.

  Could love be expressed in these ways? That didn't seem possible. Too irrational. Too much chaos. Add the interactions of more than one individual and the complexity would be overwhelming. Forget it, back to the real world.

  Was there anything to eat around this place?

  Cassiopia's mind refocused on the scene surrounding the big, new hole in the earth, and a wave of fear washed over her. She quickly forgot her personal dilemma and said a prayer for the small boy, and for the silver robot searching the dark unknown.