“We haven’t stolen our truck yet,” Ariel said gloomily.
Derec found himself joining her in gloom as they made their way back to the expressway; and then they found it jammed and had to stand on the lower-ratings’ level. It traveled just as fast, but it was a tiring nuisance.
They stopped off at the kitchen for a light lunch, and at the Personals on the way back to the apartment. Derec made his way back to Sub-Section G, Corridor M, Sub-Corridor 16, Apartment 21, from the Personal, with a skill that was by now automatic. Then he sat and waited. And waited.
Derec was quite concerned by the time Ariel returned, and became more concerned with one look at her. She had taken twice as long as he, and looked dull.
“What took you so long?”
“I got lost,” she said lusterlessly.
“You look-tired. You want-to lie down?” Derec’s voice kept catching with his fear.
“I guess.”
But Ariel sat down on the couch and didn’t move. She didn’t respond to anything Derec said. After a long while she got up and dragged herself into the bedroom.
Derec was worried and restless. He had wanted to discuss ways and means of getting a truck, but that was impossible under the circumstances. She obviously had at least a mild fever.
Instead, he spent the afternoon viewing books. Some of Dr. Avery’s local collection were Earthly novels; some were documentaries; some were volumes of statistics about population densities, yeast production, and so on. It was not the most stimulating reading he’d ever done, but Derec read or viewed the documentaries-some were print, some audiovisual.
Presently he found that it was late and he was hungry, but he hesitated. “R. David, please check on Ariel and see if she is awake. If so, ask if she would like to accompany me to the section kitchen.”
The robot did so, found her awake, and repeated the answer Derec had heard: “No, Mr. Avery, Miss Avery does not feel hungry and requires no food.”
He hesitated about leaving her. If she felt hungry later, he could accompany her to the kitchen door, but doubted he’d be allowed in again tonight. Still, he could hang around outside and hope he wasn’t questioned by a policeman. In any case, he himself was quite hungry despite his worry over Ariel.
He went out, stopping off at the Personal again and getting a drink from a public fountain outside it, then threaded the maze to the section kitchen. This time he got table J-10, and there was a longer wait; he saw that the room was near capacity. There weren’t two adjoining spaces free at the table, as the Earthers tended to spread out as much as possible.
It was a gloomy meal, alone amid so many.
Then he retraced his weary route. I suppose a person could get used to this, he thought. It’s inconvenient, but you don’t miss what you never had. The Earthers obviously didn’t give it a thought.
Questioned on this subject, R. David said, “It is not necessary for all Earth people to make this trek every time, of course. Holders of higher steps in each rating have such things as larger apartments, activated wash basins, subetherics, and so on. Of course, it is far more efficient to supply one section kitchen for four or five thousand households than to supply a room for cooking in each of these apartments, plus a cooker, food storage devices, food delivery, and so on. Just so with subetherics, when one big machine can replace a thousand small ones.”
“But some people do have these things, and convenient laundry facilities in Personal, without having to go to the section laundry. Don’t the have-nots resent these privileges?”
“Perhaps some do so, Mr. Avery, for humans are illogical. But human emotions are allowed for in the distribution of these favors, according to the Teramin Relationship.”
“The what?”
“The Teramin Relationship. That is the mathematical expression that governs the differential between inconveniences suffered with privileges granted: dee eye sub jay taken to the-”
“Spare me the math; I’m a specialist in robotics, and even my math there is not fully developed. But I’m interested; I’ve never heard of any kind of math being applied to human relations. Can you express this Tera-whatchacallit Relationship verbally?”
“Perhaps an example would suffice, master. Consider that the privilege of having three meals a week in the apartment, even if the recipient has to fetch the meals himself from a section kitchen, if the privilege were granted for cause, will keep a large if varying number of people patient with their own inconveniences. For it demonstrates that privileges are real, can be earned without too great an effort, and have been earned by people whom one knows.”
“Interesting,” said Derec, thinking that the robots of Robot City ought to know this. “How do you know all this?”
“I aided Dr. Avery in his researches on society. I also aided him in his research into robotic history.”
“Robotic history? On Earth?”
“But of course, Mr. Avery. The positronic brain, and the positronic robot, were invented on Earth. Susan Calvin was an Earthwoman, and Dr. Asenion an Earthman.”
Those names he knew-Dr. Asenion, especially, the man who had codified the mathematics that expressed the Three Laws in ways that made it possible to incorporate them into positronic brains. But Earth people! Still, it might explain much about Robot City. Dr. Avery was studying mass society and non-specialized robots on Earth.
“Is there a book on the mathematics of human society?” he asked, thinking it might well be good to take such a thing back to Robot City. Those poor robots had scarcely ever seen a human being, yet they were designed to serve mankind.
“I believe there are no Spacer books on the subject, Mr. Avery. However, I have several Earthly references of which you may have copies.”
“I’d like that.”
He’d like even more for Ariel to wake up and be her old self again. All during the afternoon he had had twinges of sharp fear, and kept trying not to remember that her disease was ultimately fatal.
Chapter 8. Outside!
Apparently everybody in Webster Groves had the idea of getting breakfast early; this was the worst jam yet. Ariel shifted from foot to foot and had the ungallant wish that Derec would carry her. Finally, however, they got in, made their way to their table, and sat with twin sighs.
The meal was lavish and included quite a few choices, including real meat sausages. Derec ate heavily, she saw, taking his own advice: it might be a long day. She tried to do so, but could not.
“I thought you were feeling better,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, and tried valiantly to eat more. How could she explain that her problem was as much psychological as physical? She had felt better this morning, but perhaps she was still feverish. Derec, in fact, had looked bad himself, as if he’d had another and worse nightmare. He’d said nothing.
“Just a claustrophobic attack,” she muttered to him.
Derec nodded somberly.
It was partly that. Partly it was depression. Partly, she thought, it was sensory overload. Earth was so overwhelming! Even now-ten thousand jaws masticating food and the ceaseless din and motion around her-she wanted it all to stop for a minute, just for a minute! Even in her sleep, however, it never stopped.
And her illness was undoubtedly creeping up on her. If it crossed the blood-brain barrier, they had told her, it would be fatal. Until then she could still hope-dream-of a cure. Well, the moments of inattention she had been experiencing, the fugues as she relived past memories only to lose them forever, the dreamlike hallucinatory state she often found herself in, could only mean one thing.
How could she tell Derec?