by Isaac Asimov
“Did they bring the ship — our ship — in, then?”
“That is my understanding. Of course, my concern since that time has been with your care.”
“Of course,” Derec echoed. If Aranimas’s ship is here, maybe I didn’t lose the artifact after all, he thought joyously. “Listen, Dr. Galen, what would you say to my getting up and doing a little walking? Airbeds are as comfortable as beds get, but I’m tired of just lying here. Maybe I could go see what kind of shape the ship is in, answer any questions the dispatcher has.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Dr. Galen said. “Your injuries are not yet sufficiently healed to permit that.”
“What are my injuries?”
“You suffered flash burns over fifteen percent of your body, primarily over your arms, face, and neck. Three of your ribs were cracked —”
“I must have fallen on the tile I was lifting.”
“— one puncturing your right lung and causing it to collapse. Your right eardrum was perforated and had to be replaced.”
“Frost! How long have I been here?”
“The ship on which you were found was boarded six weeks ago.”
“Six weeks! Was I in a coma or something?”
“Burns are extremely painful, as is reconstructive epidermal surgery,” Dr. Galen said. “I kept you under chemical narcosis during treatment and the initial phase of recovery.”
“I guess I should be grateful. But six weeks —” Belatedly Derec remembered that he had not been alone on the raider ship. “Where’re the others? Wolruf — Alpha — the girl. What’ve they been doing while I was narc’d?”
“I am sorry. The only persons found were yourself and a female human.”
Feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, Derec looked away. It did not mean that Wolruf was dead and Alpha destroyed — there was a chance, perhaps even a good one, that they were on the larger portion of the ship still in space. But it did mean that while Derec had escaped and survived, he had not lived up to his promises to the caninoid. “I’m sorry, Wolruf,” he whispered.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Never mind,” Derec said. “Tell me about the girl.”
“She was found near you inside the ship —”
“That’s not what I mean. Tell me how she is.”
“Patient Katherine’s physical —”
“Katherine — is that her name?”
“Is there some error?”
“No — no, that’s her,” Derec said. “Where is she?”
Dr. Galen turned away to the right and gestured with his hand. “Orderly, draw the curtain back.”
Derec turned his head to the right. What appeared to be the wall of his room suddenly become transparent, allowing him to see a slight human figure floating in a halo of light. She was naked, and he looked away, faintly embarrassed. When he did, he realized that he was naked, too. It was very straightforward and practical for them to be naked in a hospital, but something of a surprise all the same.
“How is she?”
“Her integumentary injuries were more extensive than your own, but she is healing well. Of course, her chronic condition remains unchanged.”
“What condition is that?”
“I’m sorry.” The robot paused. “I see that I have made an error. Since you were traveling together, I did not think that I was betraying any secrets by discussing Katherine’s chart. I will have to report myself for this indiscretion.”
“I don’t care about that,” Derec said impatiently. “Has she been awake?”
“No. Nor would we have allowed you to awaken if we did not need your assistance.” Dr. Galen gestured with his right hand. “Close the curtain.”
“Assistance with what?” Derec asked as the wall became opaque again.
“Sir, in the course of your care certain services have been rendered on account. It has not only been our obligation but our pleasure to be able to help you. However, as hospital administrator I am obliged to determine whether this account is collectable or is to be charged against regular station operations.”
“You woke me up to ask me for my insurance card?”
“There is also the question of medical history. We can determine genetic endowment directly, but it is not always possible to determine all the synergistic outcomes of a particular gene complex. Without direct evidence, I have been obliged to follow more conservative parameters in your care, which in turn has had the effect of prolonging your recovery somewhat.”
“I don’t understand. What about her?” Derec demanded. “You said she was hurt more badly than I was. Wouldn’t it be even more important to find out who she is and get her medical history? Why me and not her?”
“Sir, while you were unconscious, we attempted to identify you by means of all the standard systems. We were not successful.”
“Standard systems —”
“Fingerprint, retinagraph, absolute blood protein typing, and twenty-third chromosome codon map. We were not able to establish a match.”
“Of course you weren’t. I’m not from here.”
“Sir, by hyperwave we have direct access to the records of all fifty Spacer worlds.”
“Did you check the records for Aurora?”
“Yes. We were not able to establish a match.”
“But I’m from there — I know I am.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Aurora keeps scrupulous records on their citizens as part of their population-control program. If you were an Auroran, this conversation would not have been necessary.”
“But you found out who she is,” he said.
“That is correct. Katherine’s full records were made available to me.”
With sudden fury, Derec demanded, “Are you telling me that you searched the citizenship records of fifty planets and can’t find out who I am?”
“No,” Dr. Galen said. “We have searched the records of fifty-five worlds, including Earth and the four nearest Settler planets. We do have a right of request with most Settler worlds for access to their records. Unfortunately those records are not as complete as we are accustomed to dealing with, and in some cases are not even centralized. Also, certain worlds charge exorbitant fees to respond to data requests from Spacers and then are exceedingly slow to respond. For all these reasons, it seemed to us that a more straightforward inquiry was in order.
“Therefore, could you please tell us who you are?”
The empty feeling had returned full force. “I wish I could,” Derec said hoarsely. “Stars, how I wish I could.”
Chapter 14
KATE
“HOW INTERESTING!” DR. Galen exclaimed. “Do you mean to say that you have no personal memories whatsoever?”
Derec repeated the now familiar litany of events which began with his waking in the survival capsule. Partly because he was growing weary of the tale himself and partly to minimize questions, he glossed over some of the details, including the fact that the raider had been screwed by aliens.
“I will have to amend your chart to reflect this state of retrograde amnesia,” Dr. Galen said when Derec was through. “This is a much more fascinating problem than your other injuries. As a matter of fact, amnesia is a hobby of mine.”
“What do you mean, a hobby?”
“Perhaps I should say specialty, but that does not convey the deep intellectual satisfaction it gives me.”
“How many cases have you treated?”
“You will be my first,” Dr. Galen said. “I am tremendously pleased by the opportunity.”
“Your first?” Derec said, incredulous. “How can you call yourself a specialist, then? And what do you mean saying that you’re ‘fascinated’ or ‘pleased’? You’re not programmed to experience emotion.”
“Strictly speaking, that is correct,” Dr. Galen agreed. “But the concept of losing one’s sense of identity has always created the kind of positive positronic state which I associate with the term fascination. You see, due to the memory structure of the posit
ronic brain, it is quite impossible for a robot to forget anything, least of all its own identity. Amnesia represents a state for which robot experience offers no analogue.”
“The lure of the unknown.”
“Diagnostic robots such as myself are constructed with a reinforced curiosity integral,” Dr. Galen said. “Perhaps that is a contributing factor.”
Derec felt as though he were being lectured in his own specialty. “But positronic brains go south all the time,” he protested. “They’re vulnerable to hard radiation, to glitches in the power supply — lots of things can go wrong.”
“That is correct, Derec. But those conditions you describe would result in mental shutdown, and in some instances the complete destruction of the positronic brain. However, humans are frequently able to continue to function with such a major system failure. That is what I find fascinating. Beyond that, I believe that robots have much to contribute to the investigation of human brain function, including memory defects.”
“Why is that?”
“I note that many human philosophers have recognized that the search for self-knowledge is the hardest search of all. It is extremely difficult for the human brain to contemplate and analyze the human brain. Its limitations make it impossible to see its limitations.”
Derec found himself in agreement with the robot. “The only thing a camera can’t see is itself. The only thing a ruler can’t measure is itself.”
“Quite. Questions of human brain functions have therefore been the slowest to yield to investigation by human researchers. Many aspects of human behavior are still puzzles despite centuries of neurological and biochemical studies.”
“So what do you think you can do?”
Dr. Galen spread his hands wide. “Positronic brains were not developed by copying how human brains function. They were developed by copying how human beings behave. Therefore, though the positronic brain is the product of the human brain, it represents a distinct form of intelligence and a different perspective.”
“Are you saying that positronic brains are more capable than human brains?”
“The key is that a robot does what it does differently than a human brain,” Dr. Galen said diplomatically. “I am convinced that it is an invention of the human brain which will eventually unlock the secrets of the human brain. So I am pleased to have the opportunity to do more than study and speculate.”
Derec shook his head. “Forget it. I don’t want to be a lab animal.”
“Forgive me,” Dr. Galen said. “In my enthusiasm I neglected to make clear that my primary interest is to help you. There are tests which I can perform to determine the cause of your condition. Depending on the cause, there may be measures which can be taken to reverse your condition.”
“Do you mean you can bring my memory back?”
“I will not know the likelihood of that until I have examined you.”
Derec regarded the promise of a magic cure with skepticism. “Look, I’m not going to be here very long,” he said. “Let’s not start something we won’t have time to finish.”
“I do not understand.”
“You said that ships call here every two months. If I’ve been here six weeks, my ride out of here should show up in two weeks — probably less.”
“No, Derec,” Dr. Galen corrected. “Fariis came and went while you were recovering. The next vessel, the Heritage, is due in six weeks, three days.”
Derec stared. “A ship’s already been here? Then why am I still here?” he demanded.
“This station’s medical facilities are superior to those on board Fariis. It was not possible to release you to them in your condition.”
Derec closed his eyes and sighed. “All right. Probe away.” His eyes opened and he struggled to a seated position. “But I want to know what you’re doing before you do it, do you hear?”
“Thank you, Derec,” Dr. Galen said politely. “What do you know of amnesia?”
“Just what I see on the hypervision.”
“That is unfortunate,” Dr. Galen said.
“It’s just a saying. Actually, I don’t even remember that.”
“That is just as well,” Dr. Galen replied. “Amnesia has been used as a convenient device in fiction for centuries, usually in defiance of known facts. A common plot is for a victim to suffer a blow to the head, forget everything and everyone and begin leading a new life, then be restored in the closing scene by another blow.”
“That does sound sort of familiar. Maybe I have seen one or two like that,” Derec admitted.
“Please do your best to forget them,” Dr. Galen said disapprovingly. “They will only hinder understanding.”
Over the next three days, Derec learned a great deal about amnesia. He had had no idea how many kinds of amnesia there were and how many different causes had been identified. Under other circumstances, it would have been more than he wanted to know. But since he was personally affected, he avidly absorbed everything Dr. Galen told him.
Amnesia could affect the past (retrograde) or the present (anterograde). It could have physical causes (organic) or emotional ones (psychogenic). Some amnesiacs were unable to remember anything for more than a few seconds, while others would forget everything for only a few seconds at a time. Some victims knew that they were having difficulty, while others passionately denied it.
Nine out of every ten cases of amnesia, Derec learned, had some specific physical cause. Those causes were as different as inflammation of the whorled and folded outer layer of the brain, hardening of the cerebral arteries, electric shock, and deficiency of B vitamins. (Also on the list, but nowhere near the top, was a blow to the head.)
“In more primitive times, many cases of true organic amnesia were wrongly diagnosed as psychogenic,” Dr. Galen said as though outraged by the fact. “Patients who needed drugs or surgery were offered hypnosis and psychotherapy.”
“Maybe all amnesias have some physical cause,” Derec suggested. “Maybe the ten percent we still think are psychogenic are the ones we just haven’t found the organic cause for.”
But Dr. Galen dissented. “The distinction between mind and brain has not been completely erased by medical science. The mind is more than the sum of the brain’s parts. There are things that happen at that level of synergy which cannot be traced to specific physical events.”
Even so, the testing focused first on the possible physical causes. Dr. Galen subjected him to cortical analysis, an endorphin response test, three different nondestructive scans of his brain, and even a biopsy and culture for encephalitis.
“Your own awareness of your loss of memory is a clue, as your apparently unimpaired intelligence,” Dr. Galen told Derec. “You retain your sense of time and of the connectedness of events. All of these things are meaningful.”
But the unhappy truth was that all the clues added up to naught, and all the tests revealed nothing. Derec learned several new words to describe his condition —” fractionated retrograde hypnosis-resistant psychogenic amnesia” — but he learned nothing about himself.
“I can find no physical cause,” Dr. Galen concluded reluctantly at the end of a week. “Your cortex, thalamus, mammillary bodies, and fornix bundle are all normal. And yet you have not responded to any psychogenic therapy I am aware of. I am sorry, Derec, I have failed you.”
“Don’t take it so hard,” Derec said, sighing. “I’m beginning to get used to life in the dark.”
In the course of the testing, Dr. Galen had gradually allowed Derec more and more freedom of movement until he had the run of the small hospital complex. Physically, he was nearly completely restored. His new skin was no longer painful to the touch and was gradually becoming less sensitive to variations in temperature. His ribs had knitted while he was kept unconscious, and the only sign they had even been broken was an occasional stitch of dull pain when he drew a deep breath or stretched the wrong way.
Despite that progress, Dr. Galen resisted releasing Derec from his care. The furthest he wo
uld go was to allow Derec to move from the ICU to a private room with more traditional accommodations. But the robot’s recalcitrance was not entirely a surprise. With their special First Law responsibility as healers, robot doctors were notorious for their caution.
But Derec suspected that it was not the injuries to his body that concerned Dr. Galen, but the injury to Derec’s mind. The real reason for keeping Derec nearby was to keep him under observation while he treated Katherine. Since Dr. Galen could not be in two places at once, he was keeping his two patients in one place.
Derec could not order Dr. Galen to stop worrying about him, so he resigned himself to living within the robot’s restrictions. In some ways, Derec welcomed the vacation from responsibility. His body had had time to heal, but his mind still vividly remembered the erupting surface of the asteroid, the electric blue pain from Aranimas’s stylus, the sudden flash of the booby trap exploding in his face. He had a right to a few days of peace.
Or so Derec thought. But one day of idleness was enough to satisfy that need. The next morning he did not wait for Dr. Galen’s ritual visit and examination, but went looking for the robot himself. He found him standing at the biomedical monitor at the foot of Katherine’s bed in the ICU.
“Good morning, Derec,” the robot said. “I am sorry that I was delayed. How are you feeling today?”
“Restless,” Derec said. “I’m ready to get back to a normal life.”
“But you are in the fugue state of an amnesiac episode,” Dr. Galen said. “A normal life is not possible for you now.”
“I’ll settle for the substitute at hand,” Derec said. “I can’t just sit around here hoping my memory will come back.”
“What is it you wish to do?”
“I guess I won’t know until I find out what’s already been done for me,” Derec said. “Outside of the robots on the station, who knows that I’m here? Is anybody trying to find out who I am?”