He could stop them cold if he revealed that he was human. They would have no right to harm his robot body under the First Law, then, and under the Second, they would have to obey him. Revealing himself would risk capture by the medical team, though, which he could not accept.
He shook his head, then, unsure of why he couldn’t accept that. They were dangerous to him, threatening…for some reason. In any case, they wouldn’t get him.
“Stop at the next stopping place,” he said to the booth.
His platform duly routed into the next available loading loop, and he quickly hopped out. This time he was ready for the moving ramp, and ran up it even as it carried him. Up on the street again, he found the number of robots very sparse, which was just as well. Any moment, the robots pursuing him would order them to join the chase.
He ran around a corner so that he would not be immediately visible when the pursuit poured out of the tunnel stop. A large door of some kind, apparently to accommodate sizable transports, was in front of him. He started to reach for the control panel to one side of the door, then realized that a work crew was almost certainly inside. The pursuit was sure to see him any second. He looked around frantically.
In the wall next to the door, he saw a broad, round opening with a closed iris cover. The cover opened at his touch, and the smells from within told him it was a trash chute. He slid into it feet first, face down, pressing his arms and legs against the slick sides of the chute to prevent himself from shooting down into the receptacle.
The cover irised shut over his head, so he concentrated on his hearing. Footsteps sounded nearby, hesitated, shuffled, and pounded on. No voices were used; they were communicating through their comlinks. He waited, in case more were coming.
He could smell faint oils, oxidized metals, and some mild odors he could not recognize. His human nose would probably not have smelled anything. Apparently, robots produced only inorganic waste, sparing him the strong and foul odors of organic decomposition.
He was not getting tired, exactly, but he was somehow aware of unusual energy expenditure-which meant the same thing, in a way. When he had heard no sound of any robots for several minutes, he touched open the cover and pulled himself out. As before, the block was empty.
“Fooled ‘em,” he said aloud with a certain satisfaction. He strolled to the corner and looked up and down the street. A few robots were walking about, but traffic was very light. “Okay, gang. Now for the big test. Can you recognize me again, or not?”
As he walked, he closely eyed the robots he passed. None seemed to have any concern with him. If he possessed no external identifying mark, then his pursuit had permanently lost him when they had lost sight of him. He was comlink-invisible; not only was he incapable of receiving those signals, but he could not be tracked down by any careless broadcasting on his part. Use of the comlink would also explain why the robots found identifying marks unnecessary.
He was lost in the crowd.
Jeff smiled, at least inwardly, at the thought.
Aurora had been settled primarily by the descendants of Americans from Earth. His own ancestors had been Chinese Americans; a number of such families had been scattered about on Aurora, but they were a modest percentage of the population. Jeff had grown up knowing that he was visibly distinct anywhere he went, and he had expected the same when he went off to college-though now he was no longer sure he was going to make it.
For the first time, he resembled everyone else on the planet where he lived. It was a new experience-practically a new concept to go with his new existence. His life as a robot could be completely different for this reason, as well as for the obvious physical change.
He had to do something with himself in this new body and in this new life, such as it was. It was too soon to know what, yet, but one fact was clear: no one knew what he looked like anymore; no one could catch him…
Perhaps he could make something of this new-found anonymity.
Chapter 10. Bacon
Derec ran his hand through the bristly hair on the side of his head and stared morosely into the screen. Maybe he was just too worn out to concentrate any more. He hoped that was the problem. If not, then the reason he couldn’t think of anything else to try with the computer was that he had already tried everything. He straightened in surprise when Ariel burst into their quarters.
“How did it go?” He looked up hopefully.
“I got us some help for a change,” she said brightly. “As soon as I run to the personal, I’ll tell you about it.”
He felt a kind of disappointment that he didn’t have any good news to report, but waited patiently until she had returned.
“You got us some help? Who is it? How’d you manage that?” He tried to cover his envy.
“I was talking to one of the robots, and the argument just came to me. I told a couple of them that there were humans lost in Robot City who were starving. That gave them a First Law imperative to help.” She fell into her chair with a sigh. “I’ve been on my feet enough for one day. But at least I accomplished something out there.”
“Good job,” he conceded. He sat back from the console, glad for an excuse to quit for a while. “But what about their regular duties? Didn’t they resist leaving them?”
“I just told them to continue their duties, and to keep an eye out for the human visitors while they did. Oh, and for them to pass the word on to other robots, of course.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. That way they don’t feel a conflict between their duties and a rather vague First Law obligation.”
“Did you tell them to report to the central computer?”
“Of course. But, uh…” She inclined her head toward his console with a pointed smile. “As I recall, your department hasn’t been exactly on top of everything.”
“Yeah, I know. Whether it gets on record where I can find it is an open question.” Derec acknowledged the point with an embarrassed shrug. “At least it improves our chances.”
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you about the new First Law argument right away. With the robots helping us search, we don’t have to do the legwork any more. Have you gotten anywhere?”
“Yeah-well, no, not really.” He sighed and looked wearily at the screen. “I’ve eliminated a number of areas as having no source of food. As near as I can tell, the only place to find edible plants and other plants with processible content is the reservoir area. They haven’t been sighted anywhere in that direction at all.”
“Maybe we should go out that way ourselves, and give this First Law argument to the robots working there, just in case.”
“I guess it couldn’t hurt. At the moment, I’m too tired to plan strategy.”
“We can do some more planning tomorrow. What else have you figured out? Or is that it?”
“No, that isn’t it,” he growled. “I’m sure now that the only chemical processors are ours, and the one that the robots used to feed us when we first arrived. Before, it was just a good surmise. Now I’m certain.”
“Where does that leave us now?”
Derec stifled a yawn and looked at the clock. “It leaves me beat, for one thing.” And too worn out to argue, he thought to himself as he shut off the console.
“It’s not that late, but I’m worn out, too. Besides, with the robots contributing, there’s a chance something will happen even if we aren’t killing ourselves every second.”
“I’m going to eat and then go collapse.” Derec got up and punched a code into the chemical processor. “Want anything?”
“As much as I’d rather not, I guess I’d better. I’m so sick of all the stuff it makes. I guess it doesn’t even matter very much what it is. Make it two of whatever you’re having, okay?”
“Coming right up.”
She was walking toward him when she suddenly gasped and bent forward at the waist, her eyes bulging, clutching her abdomen with one arm.
He moved quickly to catch her by the shoulders. Gently, he eased her into a chair. “What is it? Can I do anything?”