Tonight, however, as he tossed and turned, the dream was somewhat different.
Not surprisingly, it began in the square.
It was night, and Derec was alone. There was not an entity in sight. And as he looked at the slightly taller, slightly more freakish versions of the buildings around the square, he doubted there was an entity in the city.
But something was missing. He sensed that though the square was deserted, it was even emptier than it should be.
Something elseshould be here. Circuit Breaker! Where was Circuit Breaker?
Derec looked down to see that the plasticrete was crawling up his feet, fastening him to the spot. There was the distinct sensation of his feet merging with the plasticrete, of the meta-cells beginning to function in harmony with his biological cells. Derec held down his growing sense of panic with an effort. He did not know which he feared more: the conclusion, or awakening before he learned what it might be.
In a matter of moments the meta-cells completely smothered Derec. So thoroughly had the metallic cells mingled with his own that he did not know where they ended and where his began.
Strangely, he felt himself to be wider, taller, more physically substantial in every respect. He could not see nor move, yet found he had no yen to do either. He had become Circuit Breaker itself, gathering in the energy of the starlight, transforming it, amplifying it, and casting it out. He was stronger, sturdier, and more solid than he had ever been before.
But he had also lost his mind. Suddenly he had gone from a someone to a no one. He didn't even miss his sense of identity. He couldn't understand why he had wanted his memory back in the first place. What good could thinking and knowledge do him, standing so strong and bulky against the atmospheric tides?
Derec awoke gradually; a profound feeling of mental displacement aggravated him during those moments in which his mind hovered in the regions between waking and sleeping. In fact, those moments stretched out for an uncommonly long time. Both his immediate future and immediate past seemed hopelessly out of reach.
But the future already beckoned. He realized that for the last several moments he had been listening to a loud pounding on the door. He recalled an appointment with annoyance. It was too bad. He half wished he could return to sleep. He could certainly use it.
Oh well, there's nothing I can do about it now.
He rubbed his eyes. "Hold on," he said. "I'll be right there!"
But the knocking continued unabated, growing progressively more insistent. Now Derec was really annoyed. The persistent knocking, if it came from a human, would be very impolite. But robots had no choice but to be polite, regardless of the circumstances. What kind of robot would be so obviously predisposed toward the overkill of unnecessarily persistent knocking?
Derec suddenly realized. Oh no! I'd forgotten it was Harry!
Derec dressed hurriedly, opened the door and, sure enough, Harry was standing at the threshold. "I assume I have not been knocking too long," the robot said. "I have a hundred questions to ask you."
"And I've got a few more than that to ask you," Derec replied, motioning him inside, "but I'm afraid we've got a limited amount of time today."
"So am I to assume that you are interviewing Lucius later?" asked Harry. "Why chat with that genius when you have me around?" Then: "Was that good? Was it humor ous?"
Derec tried to hide his smile. He didn't want to encourage the robot, which didn't need it anyway. "I think you'll both prove equally important to my studies of what's been happening to robots on this planet. Did you bring your friends along?"
"M334 and Benny? No. They are working on a project of some sort together. I think they want its nature to be a surprise."
"And it probably will be," said Derec sarcastically, "if the events of the last few days have been any indication."
"Forgive me in advance, but was that remark also an attempt at humor?"
"Not really, no.”
"I see. You must understand it is often difficult for a robot to understand what a human's tone of voice means," said Harry, again very politely.
Derec decided to take the question seriously. "It was a casual observation, a commentary laced with what I presumed to be light-heartedness, an attitude which frequently gives rise to humor."
"It sounded sarcastic, insofar as I can comprehend these things. "
"Did it, now? Maybe M334 should be here after all. Our conversation last night was your first real contact with the human race, wasn't it?" asked Derec, punching up a cup of coffee from the dispenser.
"Yes, and an auspicious one it was, too.”
“Whose tone is elusive now, Harry? How long have your pathways been consumed with the objective to achieve humor?"
"Since the replicating disaster that almost destroyed Robot City, from which you saved us, thank-you-very-much."
“And since then you've been pursuing your goal with the single-mindedness characteristic of robots?"
"How else?”
“How else, indeed. Hasn't it ever occurred to you that even humor has its time and place, that the average human being simply can't bear to be around someone who answers every query or makes every casual observation with a smart remark? It gets predictable after a while, and can cause an otherwise pleasant social situation to undergo rapid deterioration. Which is another way of saying that it gets boring. Dull. Mundane. Predictable."
"It fails to elicit the proper response."
"Robots can't laugh," said Derec cryptically, sipping his coffee. As bitter as bile, it was exactly what his nerves cried out for.
"I see you have deduced the basic conundrum in which I've found myself since I embarked on my little project."
"Believe me, it's obvious. But seriously, Harry, how would you react if you were walking down the street and a manhole suddenly opened up beneath you and you fell in?"
"What is a manhole? Is that some kind of sexual reference?"
"Ah, no, a manhole is an opening in the street, usually covered, through which someone can enter into a sewer or a boiler."
"Can you be certain there is nothing covertly sexual in those words? I have been diligently studying the craft of the double entendre, but there is much I have yet to grasp because all I know about human sexual matters is what material the central computer calls up for me."
"I must personally inspect that material as soon as possible. But to keep to the main subject, how would you feel if you fell down a manhole?"
Harry almost shrugged. "I would feel like going boom.”
“Seriously."
"My logic circuits would inform me that the end was near and, knowing me, would close themselves down in an orderly fashion before I suffered the indignity of random disruption."
"I see. And how would you feel if you were walking down the street and saw me falling down a manhole?"
"Why, logically, that should be hysterical. Unless of course you went splat before I could fulfill the demands of the First Law."
"Hmmm. You see, in such an eventuality, you would identify with my loss of dignity and, were you human, would relieve your anxiety by laughing. Before you rescued me, that is. The question is: how can you relieve anxiety if you can't laugh?"
"Everyone can agree it's funny. That is how my comrades inform me when they believe I am on the beam."
"But a comic performing jokes in front of an audience of robots can't stop his act after each joke to ask everyone if he's on the right track."
"There are ways around that. It is customary in a formal situation for robots to nod their heads if they think something is funny. At least, that is what I am trying to convince them to do."
Derec finished his coffee in a gulp and immediately punched up a second cup. "I see you've given this some thought."
"One or two."
"Is that an attempt at irony?”
“No, at a joke."