Michael Kube-McDowell - Odyssey

By the time he was ready to find out, Wolruf had either grown bored or was obliged to go tend to some other duty. That was a fortunate turn, since when the robot was activated, it would be facing a situation that no robot had ever faced before. It would have to decide whether Aranimas and Wolruf were “human” enough that it was required to protect them and obey their orders.

Since robots were as a rule literal-minded to a fault, it should not have been a problem. Aranimas was clearly an alien, despite his superficially humanoid appearance. Wolruf was even more so.

Those who manufactured robots did not ordinarily limit the definition of a human being, but left it as broad as possible. A power plant worker in a max suit did not look human, but a robot would obey its order. Robots were not, could not be, completely literal. They did not judge merely on appearance. A three-year-old child was human, yet a robot would frequently decline its orders.

It was possible that the programming which permitted those distinctions would find some fundamental identity between the aliens and Derec. If there was any way of preventing that, Derec was determined to do so. Because of the First Law, the robot could not be used against him. But if the robot could be persuaded that the aliens were not entitled to protection under the First Law, he might be able to use the robot against Aranimas.

With some trepidation, Derec pressed the power reset. A moment later, all of the robot’s joints except those in the damaged arm stiffened. Its eyes lit up with a red glow that pulsed rhythmically.

“Alpha alpha epsilon rho,” Derec said, repeating the sequence of Greek letters which had appeared on the ID grating. “Sigma tau sigma.”

There was a brief pause, and then the robot’s eyes began to glow steadily. “My default language is Galactic Standard, Auroran dialect,” it said. “No other language banks are currently available. Is that acceptable, sir?”

Derec broke into a smile. After his frustrations with the robots on the asteroid, it was a pleasure to be addressed civilly again. “Auroran Galactic is fine.”

“Yes, sir. Who is my owner, sir?”

“I am,” Derec said. “You are never to acknowledge that to anyone. But if you ever receive conflicting orders from myself and another, my orders are always to take precedence.”

“Yes, sir. By what name may I call you, sir?”

For some reason, Derec resented having to supply the robot with his meaningless, casually adopted name. “Derec,” he said finally, unable to think of an alternative.

“Yes, sir. To what name would you like me to respond?”

Derec suppressed a bitter laugh. Who am I to tell you your name, when I can’t even tell myself mine? “So long as you are the only one on this ship, Alpha is name enough.”

“Thank you, Derec. During my power-on self-test I detected a number of error states. Would this be a convenient time to review them?”

“In a moment,” Derec said. “Can you scan this compartment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are there any spyeyes here with us?”

“I detect no active sensors of any sort, Derec.”

“Good. Listen closely. I need to tell you something about what’s happening. You and I are on board a spaceship populated by hostile lifeforms. These lifeforms are a potential threat to both of us. Until I tell you otherwise, you are to immediately enter a passive wait-state any time we have company or I leave the lab.”

“I understand. You do not wish them to know that I am functional.”

“That’s right.”

“Is it possible that these wait-states will be of extended duration, sir?”

“It is.”

“Then may I ask if there are any problems to which I may devote myself during those periods?”

“I’m sure we’ll find some,” Derec said. “Right now, the problem is getting you in shape. Let’s have the first anomaly off your error list.”

The first that Derec knew of Wolrufs return was when the robot stiffened suddenly and its eyes went black. A few seconds later, the caninoid entered the lab and crossed to where Derec was seated. She stood at Derec’s elbow and peered briefly into the exposed inner mechanisms of the robot, then turned to him. She seemed less animated than she had been earlier.

“Aranimas would like a report on ‘urr progress.”

“You can tell Aranimas that I have reason to hope I’ll have a robot for him in a few days.”

“ ’Ow many days?”

“I don’t know,” Derec said, laying down the pen he had been using as a probe. “I also don’t know how much it’ll be able to do. I’ve replaced a few damaged components. Right now I’m trying to do something with the servo linkages for the right arm, which are really a mess. Was it you people who roughed up these robots, or did you find them this way?”

“Can’t say,” Wolruf said, and headed for the door. “I tell Aranimas.”

“Hold on a moment,” Derec said, standing. “You can also tell him that I don’t work around the clock. I need time to rest and a place to do it.”

“Rest ‘ard to get on Aranimas’s ship,” Wolruf said, gesturing toward the floor. “Sleep ‘ere.”

That was not an entirely unhappy prospect, since Derec had already determined that he had some privacy there. “What about a pillow, some kind of cushion?”

The caninoid made a sort of whistling sound that Derec read as a sigh. “I get ‘u something,” she said, and started to go.

“Am I going to be allowed to eat?” he called after her.

The sigh was a wheeze this time. “I get ‘u something.”

“Tell you what, Wolruf,” Derec said, drawing closer. “Why don’t you show me where the food is kept, so I can get it myself when I’m hungry? That’ll save you some running around on my account.”

Wolruf wrinkled her cheeks in surprise, then frowned. “Aranimas wants ‘u working, not running errands. Thass my job.”

“You’ve got enough things to do without all the extra work I’m creating,” Derec said on a hunch. “If Aranimas makes a fuss, I’ll tell him I insisted. If I’m going to do my best work, I’m going to need to get out of that lab from time to time just to clear my mind.”

Cocking her head, Wolruf considered. “Okay. I show ‘u.”

“Great. Ah-one more thing.” The thought of an alien Personal was an unpleasant one, but he was suddenly aware that there was some urgency. “I have-um-excretory needs. Do you also-ah-is there-”

Wolruf laughed, a sound like purring. “Of course. Come, I show ‘u that, too.”

There seemed to be fewer aliens afoot in the ship at that hour, which started Derec wondering about the sleep cycles observed by the various species aboard. The curiosity stayed in his mind while Wolruf showed him the Personal, identified to him the three foods in the pantry considered safe for him, and escorted him back to the lab. By that time, he was certain that she was fatigued, and when she left him, he was certain that it was for an appointment with a bed.

There was no lock on the lab door. There was no Narwe guard to note his comings and goings. The opportunity was there, if he wanted it. Wolruf would not disturb him. Perhaps Aranimas was now sleeping as well. Derec could scout the layout of the ship, snoop in some of the hundreds of storage bins he had seen.

Or perhaps Aranimas was waiting for a report from Wolruf, and might soon be coming to check Derec’s progress personally. Or perhaps he never slept. Perhaps his mind was structured in a way that he did not need the periodic “dumpings” dreams represented, his metabolism clocked at a steady pace rather than cycling through active and passive periods.

The uncertainty stilled Derec’s impulse to go exploring, at least for a time. Turning to the food he had carried back with him, he gnawed at a few of the thick crackerlike biscuits, ate most of the fatty mottled-blue paste, sipped at the honey juice. Though his taste buds regarded it all with suspicion, none of it alarmed his stomach.