by E. R. Mason
Chapter 5
Inside the hollow earth, the TEL 100D searched. The muddy, half-filled waterway played its games, winding this way and that, narrowing in some places, its ceiling becoming low in others. Garbage and stone jutted from the walls and overhead, adding to the menacing, absolute darkness that concealed the way. For most humans, the perilous, claustrophobic environment would have been too much. For Tel, it was of no consequence at all.
The robot measured its progress carefully; testing the floor beneath the roaring rush of water with each step; switching on its small, shoulder-mounted crystalline spotlight; memorizing everything in sight in little more than an instant; then switching back to darkness to save the life-essential energy in its power cells. There was little need for more than momentary light from the visible spectrum. The robot's super-fast visual processors could map the entire scene and store the data in less than one second. From that point on, the machine could see from within itself with an accuracy far greater than that of the human eye. Its scanners and infrared receivers would note any subsequent changes and supplement the search in a dozen different ways. Were it necessary, Tel could continue with no visible light at all.
Within the robot, an enormous data processing network ran continuously, a circulatory system made of electrons, subatomic holes, and laser-generated light waves. Hundreds of independently programmed microprocessors carried out their assigned functions: moving the arms, hands, legs and feet; measuring and testing external pressures and temperatures; and relaying term codes, recommendations, and evaluations to the central brain. Items of critical importance were tagged for priority while those that had ceased to be significant were discreetly dismissed.
In the mind of Tel, a human-like guidance process took place with a decisiveness exempt from emotion, and a determination that lacked human weakness:
Ambulatory pause-start scan(complete)-integrate map(complete)-objective search parameters(comparators negative)-systems check(nominal)-power checks(within limits)-time elapsed(within limits)-enable ambulatory(complete)-proceed, left projector, X coordinates 245, Y coordinates 340, Z coordinates 078 and grip(extension complete)-surface integrity subroutine(within limits)-left gear, X coordinates 350, Y null, Z null, surface integrity subroutine(nominal)-right gear, X coordinates 350, Y null, Z null, (peditation complete) surface integrity subroutine(nominal)-ambulatory pause-start scan....
The robot's slow pace disguised the rate at which data flowed through its electronic nervous system, some of it at the speed of light. It calculated the weight and dimension of each obstacle, the most efficient path for its removal, and the torque required to complete the task. When the water level in the tunnel suddenly began to drop, it was faced with its first real test of decision-making power. The tunnel had divided, sharing the flow of water. The current had become deceptively gentle, and only knee high. Since no preset conditions had been input to resolve the situation, the robot assigned each path a number and simply chose one at random, a machine's best guess. Both paths led more sharply downward into the earth. So there Tel went.
As the descent continued, progress became more difficult. Debris that had been easily swept along by the swifter currents above became lodged and tangled in the curves and dips of the shrinking passageway. Obstacles were becoming frequent, and maneuvering past them or clearing a path more difficult. To continue ahead also meant risking the chance of causing further collapse of unstable tunnel walls.
From above, Markman watched with fading hope as evening began to embrace the equipment-strewn site. Some spectators had begun to lose faith and leave. TV news trucks, with their giant roof-mounted dish antennae came and went, having missed the extraordinary sight of a TEL 100D robot being deposited into the disaster. They had left, mistakenly believing the robot to be a simple radio-controlled police bomb disposal unit, rather than the priceless masterpiece that it was. That mistake had greatly minimized publicity surrounding the robot, which pleased Professor Cassell to no end. Portable floodlights had been set up around the collapsing chasm, throwing eerie reflections off the wasted metal objects at its bottom. The crane operator slept in his control seat with his head tilted uncomfortably over backward and one foot propped up on the dashboard.
Markman rubbed at his temple and stared down into the hole. Time was becoming critical. There was no way to know how much power the robot was expending, and no way to be sure it would have enough for the return trip. If power levels fell below the required level for its motor drives, the machine would simply shut down to standby mode to preserve its memory and wait for rescue, indefinitely.
Ten hours into the ordeal things were beginning to look very bad. Tel was well overdue. To add to the uncertainty, a ten-foot section of ruptured parking lot had fallen into the hole, covering over most of the underground entrance. Enough water flow still passed into the earth to allow levels to remain stable, but there was no longer any opening for passage by anyone. No one had expected the operation to take so long. More people began to leave, though dozens still remained.
Someone had to start helping Cassiopia adjust to the idea that neither the boy nor her beloved robot would likely be coming back, and Markman knew that job was his. He went to the open passenger door on the van and leaned against the side panel where Cassiopia had faithfully continued to wait. They looked upon each other reassuringly.
"So, there's a restaurant still open a couple of blocks away. Want me to get you something?"
She shook her head. "No thanks, not hungry."
"We've got the spots all night, and the crane man has agreed to stay as long as we want. This could go on for quite a while. If you and the Professor wanted to head home and get some rest, I could stay here and keep an eye on things." He stammered the last few words and quickly realized he had already lost the gamble. She did not reply.
"Look, they're working on getting some equipment in here to try and dig out the tunnel, but it's going to be rough trying to do anything down in there. They probably won't get started until morning, so you won't miss anything." He paused and smiled reassuringly. "You know, despite the arguments I get into with that stupid robot, I have come to care about it. If ever there was an example of a chi spirit, that thing is one."
"What is a chi?"
"Where I come from the priests and monks teach us that all things come from the thoughts of the One. You'd probably use the word God in place of the One. They believe everything is alive in its own way since it comes from the giver of life. They say that life began in the simplest of mineral forms and evolved up to what we are today. They would consider the robot to possess a complex chi, a true spirit of life."
"Scott, why don't you just say God, if that's what you mean?"
"Are you kidding? That name has been so abused; many people have come to avoid it at all costs. There's been more money collected in the name of God than there probably is in the national debt. Somewhere along the way some have come to think God's work can't be done without money. The name God has been used to tell people what to think, how to live, and sometimes to teach them they are inadequate or inferior, all things that are perfectly contrary to the truth."
She smiled wearily. "Markman, there you go again. One minute you're a gun-toting cowboy, and then the next a philosophical ancient. You're the strangest boyfriend I've ever had...."
Cassiopia bit her lip. The word boyfriend had seemingly escaped of its own volition. It was probably because she was so tired. She silently cursed herself for the slip and wished for a hole to crawl into and hide. Quickly she realized that there was, unfortunately, a large one nearby.
Markman slowly reached up and pulled gently at the collar of her dress, until their faces were nearly touching. "Where I come from, they would substitute the word lover, for boyfriend," he said, and gently kissed her on the lips. In the van's back seat, Professor Cassell wondered if his impersonation of a sleeping man was adequate.
"Perhaps you're right. We should try to rest," she said sof
tly.
"I'll get someone to drive you. Give me just a minute."
He headed for the side of the hole, where a woman police officer stood guard on the remaining crowd. As he approached, the officer gestured with frustration at the pit.
"Look, it's collapsing around the opening again."
Markman stared down at the mud-and-asphalt-packed hole where the flowing water continued to disappear underground. Above it, more dirt was sliding sporadically down over the shrinking cavity. The possibility that collapses were also happening farther inside seemed likely.
"Officer, could you call for someone to drive the Cassells back to their place?"
"Sure," she replied.
Markman watched the dirt rain down the side of the sinkhole and wondered what fate the young boy and TEL 100 had met. Perhaps it had been a crazy idea to send the machine in. It had been a gamble at best. Now both were hopelessly lost. He felt a touch of guilt but quickly dismissed it. No price could ever be put on the life of a child. No risk was ever too great. He thought to see Cassiopia off and started to leave when a glint of light from the debris around the water flow caught his eye. I'm wishing so hard that I'm making myself see things, he thought.
He had begun to turn away again when a second flash of silvery light flicked on and off as more dirt moved downward. His pulse quickened and his stare froze on the spot.
Suddenly, a mud-caked, silver arm jutted out from the cascading dirt flow and quickly withdrew back in. Then it jutted out again, and again.
He yelled hoarsely, "Cass!" and ran toward the crane operator. Cassiopia needed no further explanation. She jumped from her seat in the van, fell harshly to the ground, tearing her stockings, then scrambled back up and ran in her bare feet toward the hole.
A woman bystander who had camped herself as near as possible to the edge climbed frantically to her feet and attempted to yell an alert, but instead emitted an unintelligible scream that made everyone within fifty feet of her jump awake. Since there were few officers left on the scene, the crowd quickly began to push toward the edge of the hole, trampling over the flimsy police tape that had been used to cordon off the area.
At the bottom of the massive hole, a muddied, silver arm continued to dig and push its way into the open. A heavy, mud-caked mechanical leg followed. Like a silver ghost emerging from a grave, the robot pushed through the wall of dirt and into the brilliance of the spotlights. It stood boldly amid the rushing river and tilted its head upward to scan the surface above the hole. Under its right arm, dangled the limp, blue form of a young child. The boy's head hung down. His hair was packed with mud, his right arm swinging freely.
Markman raced furiously to harness himself and cursed at his ineptness with the release mechanism. As soon as it was locked in place, the crane operator, now wide awake from a rush of adrenaline, raised him and swung him into a position directly over them.
Carefully he was lowered into the hole and met the ragged-looking pair. He hung barely above the angry current and held to one of Tel's shoulders for stability.
"Tel, give me the boy."
The robot complied. It opened its dirty machine arms cautiously and released its delicate package. With its arms still outstretched, it tracked the ascent of the two humans as they quickly disappeared up into the blinding light.
"He's breathing," shouted Markman, and a cheer rose up from the crowd. As they crossed over to the safety of the unbroken earth, the policewoman tenderly retrieved the child and ran to her police car where a second officer had the engine running. Mourning parents would soon receive a dispatcher's call that would seem as though it had come from heaven.
Amid the celebration, a tandem harness was quickly rigged to bring up Tel. Minutes later, its return to the surface brought a second, loud chorus of cheers and applause. Cassiopia greeted her non-sentient friend with a bear hug that covered her ruffled white shift with mud. The indifferent machine responded dutifully by verbalizing, "Cassiopia, task resolved."
At the back of the crowd, a dark figure looked on intently from a rusted, dilapidated, brown and white van. His hair was crudely trimmed, and his face dirty. He observed the proceedings with great interest, and as the gathering dispersed, followed the van to the home of Professor Cassell, where he watched from the shadows and planned.
Chapter 6