Michael Kube-McDowell - Odyssey

“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.”

“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 positronic 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.”