“I think I understand,” said Jane. “It’s Hunter being out of range to help us. isn’t it?”
Marcia nodded tightly. “Of course it is.”
“But we’re fine,” said Steve.
“We aren’t used to living without robots around like you are, Steve,” said Jane. “Remember? You made a few comments on our first mission about that. I’ve learned to improvise on these missions myself-and to get along without Hunter right next to me. That’s all it is.”
“Yeah?” Steve shook his head, looking at Marcia. “She’s panicking because Hunter is down the road and doesn’t want to reveal his strength?”
Marcia shrugged, glaring at him.
“Well, look,” said Steve, “I think we should consider riding down there after Hunter, no matter what he said. We can help him get free.”,
“I don’t think we should,” said Jane. “His reasons for waiting were clear. At least, we should call and talk about it with him again.”
“We’ve taken more risk and initiative than that on our own before.”
“It’s not just us. I’m arguing about this as a roboticist. Hunter doesn’tchoose the First Law; it governs his behavior whether he likes it or not, and he has given us his current concerns and interpretation already.”
“If we find him, the First Law will make him free himself to protect us, won’t it? Like I said to him?”
“Yes, probably. But there’s more to consider. During the last mission, Hunter finally allowed himself to take trips back to our own time in the middle of a mission in order to escape trouble. He’d never done that before. That was a real change in judgment for him.”
“What about it?”
“I’m worried that pushing him into a severe First Law dilemma might force him to take us back again. Every time we vanish and reappear, we increase our chances of being seen and we lose some continuity in our plans. In the long run, we might be better off cooperating with Hunter for now.”
“Well…you’re the expert on this stuff,” Steve said reluctantly…
“You mean we aren’t doinganything?” Marcia looked back and forth between them in disbelief. “We’re just going to sit and wait?”
“For now,” said Jane.
“Let’s get some sleep,” said Steve, straightening from leaning against the door. “We’ll need it tomorrow. You two stay here; I’ll go across the hall. Just make sure that your lapel pins are turned on. We don’t want to miss Hunter calling again.”
“You and Marcia are supposed to be married,” said Jane.
“Nobody’s going to notice how we divide the rooms,” Marcia muttered irritably. “I’ll stay with you.”
Steve watched her for a moment, tempted to tease her about refusing to play-act her role by sleeping in the other room with him. Then he decided she was already upset enough. With a brief nod to Jane, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Across the hall, he entered his own room and found enough moonlight shining around the shutter on the window for him to see. Ignoring the unlit candle, he closed the door and undressed. The chilly mountain air also leaked into the room, but he could tolerate the temperature.
In the darkness, under the covers, he found himself tense and wide awake. He could hardly stand Marcia, but the uncertainty about Hunter bothered him, too, in a different way. Marcia felt vulnerable without a robot to protect her. Steve simply felt that he was wasting time, lying here doing nothing while Hunter remained a captive.
Hunter had stopped struggling in order to conserve his energy. He did not know how much strength he would need to free himself. Also, no matter what actions he took, he could not replenish his energy supply until the sun reappeared.
Someone had thrown a cloth bag over his head. It smelled strongly of hay, overwhelming his olfactory sense. Now only his hearing and sense of touch brought him information.
The same seven humans still stood around him, talking excitedly. At this point, only two were actually holding him, one on each arm. Of course, if he pulled free, the others would immediately jump on him again.
The voices around him had been talking for some time, arguing about what to do with him. Most of their chatter had been indecisive and unimportant. However, Hunter noticed that all of them repeatedly referred to him as a “spirit.”
Hunter searched his knowledge for the significance of this. At first he thought it might be a colloquial reference to him as a foreigner. He knew that many years later, in the nineteenth century, a Chinese nickname for Europeans and white Americans was “foreign devils.”
“We must decide what to do,” one man said clearly. He spoke with some authority. “Otherwise, we may argue here in the woods all night.”
“Our choices are three,” said another man. “One, tie him up in the forest and leave him. Two, remain here and keep watch over him all night. Three, offer him sacrifices of food and wine and give him our respect.”
No one laughed. Hunter realized that these were serious choices, not jokes. They really believed he was a spirit of some kind.
“We must chain him while we speak,” said someone else. “Away from the road.”
The two men holding Hunter’s arms pulled him forward. He followed, stepping carefully on the uneven ground to find his footing. His escorts were slower than he was, but they made some effort to guide him, he supposed to avoid tree branches and large rocks.
After a walk of no more than about ten meters, he was stopped and backed up against a tree trunk. He heard the clink of metal and then felt chains pulling him fast against the tree. While his captors muttered to themselves about the exact placement of the chains, he called his team again.
All three of them responded with drowsy voices, at first talking at the same time. No matter which rooms they were in, they all had their lapel pins turned on.
“I have a question for Marcia specifically,” said Hunter. “My captors refer to me among themselves as a spirit. However, I cannot reconcile some apparent contradictions. They cannot decide whether to leave me chained to a tree or to make sacrifices to me. The former seems hostile, the latter respectful. Is this choice normal?”
“I can’t tell yet,” said Marcia. She cleared her throat, yawned, and then spoke with more certainty. “Um, this is related to their local folk religion. It evolves constantly and varies from one geographical location to another, sometimes even between neighboring provinces or villages.”
“Oh, wonderful,” muttered Steve. “So it’s impossible to know what they’re thinking at all.”
“Let her go on,” said Jane.
“It’s not totally impossible,” said Marcia. “Hunter, what robotic abilities did you exhibit to them? They must have some reason to believe you’re not human.”
“None.” Hunter quickly reviewed all his actions from the time he and the team had first arrived at the inn. “I am certain that I have revealed no abilities to this particular group that are not human.”
“Well…that won’t help us, then. Maybe you resemble a spirit in some folk tale.”
“Hold it,” said Steve. “You mean, like if someone fit the role of Cinderella?”
“Or King Arthur or Paul Bunyan,” said Marcia. “Hunter, from what you’ve said, they may consider you a good spirit who is misguided or out of control.”
“In what respect?”
“Maybe they believe you have been sent here to do something specific that they don’t like.”
“Yes? What does this mean?”
“Well, this would explain that they want to stop you from fulfilling your instructions from the spirit world-whatever they think those are-but they still want to remain on your good side.”
“I understand,” said Hunter. “This is consistent with their behavior.”
“I have to ask you something, Hunter,” said Jane. “Is the Third Law likely to become an imperative soon? That is, are you in danger-or do you expect to be?”
“No,” said Hunter. “If the situation changes and the / Third Law forces me to escape, I must do it alone without endangering the team.”
“Can you reach the belt unit?” Jane asked. “If so, you could return to our time, then come back to this time in another location.”