Derec and Ariel had to get back there.
“I must warn you that this conversation is being recorded, and that anything you say may be used against you. Further, you have the right to remain silent, if you feel that your interests might be threatened by answering. On the other hand, we have as yet no positive evidence that any crime has been committed. The Bureau has been called in primarily because you are allegedly a Spacer…diplomatic reasons, that is,”
Derec nodded, throat tight.
“Who are you?” the agent asked abruptly.
“Derec.”
“And your last name?”
Derec debated, decided not, and said, “I sit mute.”
“That is your right. Do you wish a witness that you have not been coerced?”
“Waived, but, uh,” Derec could not quite remember the Spacer legal formula-so far it had seemed close to Earth’s. If anything, Earth was more fanatical about preserving the individual’s rights than the Spacer worlds were. “Oh, I wish to retain the right to ask for a witness later.”
“Waived right to a witness pro tern,” said Donovan, nodding shortly once, in faint approval. “I assume then that you do not mean to sit mute to all questions. Therefore, I ask you: have you ever had Burundi’s disease, popularly known as amnemonic plague?”
“I don’t remember.” Derec smiled faintly at the other and received a faint smile back.
“Do you remember your last visit to Towner Laney Memorial Hospital, two days ago, and the blood sample that was taken at that time?”
Derec remembered the visit, but not the blood sample. Even when Donovan pointed at the red scab inside his left elbow, he still didn’t remember the sample being taken.
Concerned, Donovan said, “Do you assert that it was taken without your knowledge; particularly, do you accuse anyone of using anesthesia on you against your will?”
“Is that a crime on Earth? No, I make no such-uh-assertion. I just don’t remember…I was probably in a fog. I usually am, these days.”
The agent looked at him. “Isn’t unauthorized anesthesia a crime on the Spacer worlds?”
“It might be, but I doubt it. I doubt that it happens often enough for anyone to pass a law against it. The robots would prevent it, usually.”
“Hmmm,” said the Terry, possibly reflecting that a robot-saturated society might have its points. “In any case, I now inform you that a blood sample was taken from you on that occasion and carefully studied. The conclusion of the doctors here, and at the Mayo, and in Bethesda, is that though you have antitoxins to Burundi’s, you have never had the disease in its severe form.”
Derec stared at him.
Donovan continued, “Yet, something you said to the Spacer plague victim, and which she answered, indicates that your memory was lost in the characteristic fashion of this disease. Can you elucidate that, or do you wish to sit mute?”
The robots.thought Derec. Furniture to a Spacer, he had paid no attention. And usually a robot’s discretion was proverbial, so much so that their testimony was rarely heard even in Spacer courts. But these had been instructed to record and play back everything that Ariel said. Derec couldn’t remember what she and he had said, but they’d given the game away more than an Earthly week ago.
Had they mentioned Robot City?
“Why do you ask?” he asked warily.
“Do you suffer from amnesia?” the other countered.
Derec ought to sit mute. He considered that seriously, wondered if perhaps it was already too late, then thought of a possible way around.
“Why do you ask? Surely it’s no crime to suffer amnesia. Nor would I expect the Terries to be called in even if a Spacer suffered. The condition isn’t contagious, you know.”
“There are laws against harboring certain diseases, nevertheless,” said Donovan automatically, but he waved that aside. “Public policy. No, the question here is more serious. Essentially, two things about you alarm us. One is that you do not remember your past. The other is that you are not on Earth.”
Derec gaped at him, almost started to ask exactly where St. Louis was.
“Officially, I mean,” said Donovan, frowning in irritation. “We’ve done a thorough computer check, and we find no sign of you before you appeared here a couple of weeks ago, eating at the section kitchen, big as life and twice as natural. This was brought to our attention by the hospital’s accountants and computer operators, who have never discovered how your partner’s records vanished out of the hospital’s computer.”
The Terry looked at him again. “Normally I wouldn’t reveal so much, but there’s a good deal of alarm in Washington. It’s considered that you are not the source of the mystery, and may in fact be unaware of it. Who sent you to Earth, and why?”
Derec’s mind was spinning like a wheel, but he managed to say, “I suppose you figure the ones who sent us have done this computer trick. How could they possibly have?”
Donovan shrugged angrily. “Any number of ways, I suppose. There’s talk of bandit programs that take over computers. More realistically, there’s talk of disappearing programs, that automatically wipe themselves after a certain time-that is, they contain instructions that cause the computer to wipe them, do you see?”
Derec nodded, a memory clicking into place. He’d heard of such programs as toys, but a good computer could usually retain them. And a network of computers…if you were getting food or lodging with your ration tag, that allocation would have to be routed through so many computers that though the first computer might lose the program, the memory of the transaction would remain. His little erasure at the hospital had been simple, and he’d caught the accounting trail early, so there was no trace.
But of course there was no memory of their arrival in any Earthly computer. Only in one Earthly positronic brain.
“Violation of the Immigration Act can be charged against you,” said Donovan chattily. “We couldn’t make it stick without proof that you knowingly and deliberately invaded without the legal formalities. But we could hold you pending an investigation.”
“We couldn’t go far in any case,” said Derec. “Earth is one big jail.”
Donovan nodded. “ Any planet is.”
Derec tried to imagine how many computers in how many bureaus and branches of government would have to be foxed to slip a spy in. His mind boggled; no wonder they were concerned. Far easier to believe that a ship sneaked in and dropped someone, despite orbital radar and other detection devices.
They were overreacting: easier to slip in spies in other guises, like traveling sociology students. Except that Spacers never went anywhere on Earth, and now here were two of them.
“How many of you are there, on Earth?” Donovan asked casually.
It hit Derec that he didn’t really know. He had supposed that Dr. Avery worked alone, but his belief that it was so didn’t make it so. Besides, Dr. Avery worked through robots, and there could be any number of them
“I don’t know,” he said frankly. “We were told little. I have reason to think that we are the only two.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to find volunteers for social studies on Earth. Too few Spacers care about the subject in the first place; they’d rather study robotics.”
Donovan nodded, sitting leaning slightly toward him, not at all relaxed. There was so much energy and sheer competence in that pose that Derec had the sudden realization that if he were to attack the Earthman, the other would pinion him as efficiently as any robot. If not quite as gently. The idea of concealing the location of R. David and the apartment seemed silly. This man represented a planetwide investigative organization.