It was a discomfort that came from an awareness of her own narcissism, something she had never experienced before, that was at once both fascinating and repulsive. She concluded she was attracted to feminine beings, but would rather it were not her own being. But what was the cause for the attraction? She concluded it must stem from that first powerful imprint on KeenEye that had not been altogether dispelled by her preference for the Derec imprint-the male imprint. That comfort with a masculine imprint was only a little less powerful than the laws that were intended to govern her behavior, but which she found so difficult to interpret for want of knowing what a human was. She could deprogram neither those laws nor her feeling of masculinity nor that insidious attraction for all that was feminine.
She found that she was experiencing another form of discomfort that came from listening to Jacob and Mandelbrot. She had never before heard two robots conversing with one another. The discomfort came not from that process but, again, from their words, what she deduced from their words. They were talking as though they knew what a human was, and she, SilverSide, was still exploring that subject by the process of multiple imprints, trying to progress to ever higher levels of intelligence, for surely only the most intelligent species in the galaxy could be the humans she was seeking.
“Jacob, you talk of the laws of humanics as though you know what a human is,” she said.
“Certainly,” Jacob said. “I am so programmed. How else could I implement the Laws of Robotics?”
“Am I human?” she asked.
“No. You are a robot,” Jacob replied.
“How do you know?”
“Master Derec says so. Further, my own senses tend to support his contention. You are not a mammal.”
“What about Mistress Wolruf? Is she human?”
“No.”
“But she is a mammal.”
“True. But not all mammals are human.”
“What is a human, Jacob?” Silverside asked.
“There are many definitions, some very complicated, some very simple. We are generally programmed with only one.”
“What is an example of a simple definition?”
“Accent in speaking Standard. Most humans speak Standard, so a simple definition for a special set of robots on a planet called Solaria once used the Solarian accent to define humans-a very simple test, not requiring any unusual instrumentation.”
“And how do you define a human, Jacob?”
“By the number of their chromosomes and the configuration of their X and Y chromosomes.”
“And how do you determine that information?”
“With an instrument-a cellular nanomachine-built into my right index finger.”
“You don't make that determination each time you meet that same human, do you?”
“No. Once I determine that a being is human, I put its image into a pattern-recognition table. Further, I am inclined to accept as human any being that approximates an average of those images-without the chromosome test.”
“Mistress Ariel and Master Derec are both humans, then.”
“Yes.”
“And which do you feel more compelled to protect?”
“My immediate master, Mistress Ariel.”
“And you, Mandelbrot, which would you favor?”
“Master Derec, although the choice would be difficult,” Mandelbrot said.
“And what about Wolruf?” SilverSide asked. “Would you protect her, Mandelbrot?”
“Yes. Friend Jacob and I are both programmed to treat her as human.”
“Don't you find that strange? A being that is…”
Thoughts of Wolruf as a human were shunted aside by the landing at the meeting site of black demonic beings-two of them-who simultaneously stalled out with perfect choreography, braking with their wings widespread, seeming to shut off the sun in the enveloping blackness of their presence. Then they touched down lightly, folded rustling wings close in to their bodies-shrinking to the size of the mammals they faced-and became black silhouettes surmounted by wicked-looking, snow-white hooks above burning red eyes.
The impenetrable soft blackness that shrouded their physical essence in mystery projected a disquieting impression of latent power.
SilverSide concentrated on recording everything that transpired. She thought that she was possibly observing the ultimate form of humanity, the final objective in a frustrating quest.
“Good morning, leaders of the Ceremyons,” Ariel said. “This is Wolruf and this is Derec, both members of our reprogramming task force. Wolruf, Derec, I would like you to meet Synapo, leader of the Cerebrons…”
The alien on the right expanded slightly with the rustling sound of a bat's wings amplified by an order of magnitude
“…and Sarco, leader of the Myostria.” The alien on the left expanded, rustling. Derec spoke next.
“My colleague Wolruf and I are honored that you will be working with us to produce an environment on your planet of benefit to both of our peoples.”
“That is to be desired,” the alien Synapo said with a strange accent, more pronounced than Wolruf's, which made understanding the alien even more difficult.
“But first,” Derec continued, “would you explain the nature of the dome and the method of its construction so that we may determine how best to modify the city within to be as innocuous as possible?”
“The node compensator is a localized separation of space and time,” Sarco said.
He said nothing further, as though that fully explained it. “Yes. Go on,” Derec said.
“That's it. A localized rift in spacetime,” Sarco said with mild disdain as though he were lecturing a backward student, “a locus of points in the cosmos where our universe no longer exists. “
“And how do you create such a rift?”
“Do you understand what I mean by a rift in the cosmos?” Derec hesitated.
“Not entirely,” he said.
“Then you 're not likely to understand how such a rift is created, and we should move on to more profitable subjects for discussion.”
Synapo entered the discussion at that point.
“The rift is created and enlarged by the intense application of electrons, which themselves are convolutions in spacetime. The stream of electrons-highly focused on a microscopic volume at the initial point of separation-enlarges the void progressively around the extent of the rift, much as I separate the gores of my reflector when I untether each morning.
“But as my colleague, Sarco, suggests, perhaps we should move directly to a discussion of your schedule for implementing harmonious cohabitation. “
“Strictly from visual observations, the dome seems to partake of the nature of a black hole,” Derec persisted. “Is that what you're saying?”
“Black hole?” Synapo said, as though now having difficulty himself with the trend of the conversation. “Black hole! Yes, that is a good analogy. The derivation of the word was not self-evident.
“Yes, the compensator is a black hole, but an unnatural one internal to the universe, not on the edge; a black hole as a concavity, not as a convexity at the edge where space and time separate in the course of the natural decay of the universe.
“Now may we move on?”
“Just two more questions,” Derec said. “When we look at the dome from the outside, we can't see the city. We see objects on the other side as though the dome and the city weren't there. Why can't we see the city inside?”
“The compensator's intense curvature of spacetime bends the light around the dome much as light from a distant star is bent slightly as it goes around our sun. In the case of the compensator, the bending is not slight. It is calculated to produce the effect of invisibility and nonexistence: one of its attributes as a compensator.