The aliens seemed not to notice. Synapo came to stand in front of Ariel.
“Sarco and I are pleased to meet with you again, small leader.”
It was Sarco then who was standing in front of Derec.
A faint but pungent puff of ammonia tingled the tip end of her nose. She controlled the sneeze only with great effort.
“Wolruf, Derec, and I are equally pleased to meet again with the leaders of the Cerebrons and the Myostrians,” she said, “and pleased, also, to report that our program modifications are complete and being satisfactorily implemented. Our new plants are sharing The Plain of Serenity with an equal stand of indigenous grass to minimize the ecological disturbance as our farms spread across the plain.”
“I am pleased to report that Sarco can find no significant disruption in our weather,” Synapo replied, “nothing that can be attributed to your activities.”
“That is good news indeed,” Ariel said.
Diplomatically, there was no way to avoid the bad news; it had to be dealt with before they could leave the planet feeling comfortable in their relations with the Ceremyons. She continued without pause:
“Now I must express our sorrow that an unavoidable incident took the life of one of your people and of one of ours.”
“That was Neuronius, my errant friend and erstwhile assistant. I fear he brought it on himself, and though I regret his behavior and now his loss, I regret more that he had to take one of your people with him. We had thought it was the changeable one you call SilverSide. He and Neuronius had had an earlier meeting, which did not end too agreeably. But it was SilverSide who arranged this meeting, so it obviously cannot have been him.”
“Yes, I am Adam SilverSide.”
Adam's voice startled Ariel. She now regretted intensely that she had brought him along. She never intended for Adam to be an active participant in the meeting. Yet, there he was, standing beside Derec as though he carried as much weight as Wolruf.
Before Ariel could say anything, Adam continued.
“Jacob Winterson was the one who was killed, Miss Ariel's personal robot and the one whom I had taken as my imprint at one time. I see now that Neuronius must have mistaken him for me. That was not clear until this moment.”
“We regret that one of us took your trusted servant from you, Miss Ariel Welsh,” Synapo said, “but we must rejoice that he did not take Adam SilverSide as well. Neuronius was sick but refused all offers of help, something we could do little to correct.”
At that moment Ariel would have welcomed them taking Adam SilverSide as well.
“We must all put those bad things behind us,” she said. “We have other responsibilities and must now leave your fair planet to resume other, less-rewarding efforts. Our robots have all been reprogrammed, their future mission is clear, and I'm sure you will find them pleasant cohabitants. It has been a sincere pleasure to know both of you, Leader Synapo and Leader Sarco.”
“Let me participate to this extent,” Sarco said, “that I assure you on your departure that all Myocerons will endeavor to do what is best for those you leave behind-both the Myocerons and your robots.”
“Speaking of those we leave behind,” Ariel said, “one last thought: you will find that we have left both the farm and city operations under the supervision of a robot we call Wheeler, who now has the form of a small Ceremyon, the only robot on the planet with that form. His Robotic Laws recognize Ceremyons with the same weight accorded humans. Thus, he and the other robots will carry out any orders you may choose to give them.”
“Who knows what the future may hold?” Synapo responded. “Your vision at least allows us to handle that future in our own way, and for that we are grateful. And now I echo my colleague's sentiments, Miss Ariel Welsh,” Synapo said, “and we say goodbye. May good fortune attend all your future endeavors.”
The two aliens took to their wings and seemed, thereby, to sail gracefully out of Ariel's life, but not without leaving her severely disturbed: by the good feelings as they departed; by the knowledge that the wild one had contributed, no matter how unknowingly, to Jacob's death; by the pain of having to remember Jacob so publicly; and now that it was all over and the letdown began to settle in, by the realization that she had been neglecting Derec for a long time.
She turned to him then, pulled his head down, and gave him a kiss and a hug. When he responded with equal ardor, she felt the mantle of leadership slip from her shoulders, and the relief from that burden was so great, she felt that she would never again grouse over its lack, nor begrudge Derec the privileges of the office whenever he chose to assume them.
She had been neglecting someone else, too. She released Derec with her left arm and reached over to get a handful of Wolruf's fur, pulling her into a three-way embrace with Derec.
“We have pulled it off,” she said. “You guys are something else.”
Looking around Derec's shoulder, she winked at Adam SilverSide. He would know that was meant to include him in the embrace. It was her painless way of thanking him-without his knowing it and feeling smug and superior-for his last ditch effort at The Cliff of Time. It was he who had first jeopardized and then saved the whole show and strengthened the bond between Synapo and her in the process.
They were a strange pair: Adam and Eve SilverSide. Whence did they come? If they didn't profess to obey the Laws of Robotics, she would have been inclined to term them alien robots. What did the future hold for them-and for that matter, what did the future hold for the rest of them, having to deal, as they must, with Adam and Eve?
[Synapo: Because of his dominant personality, the leader of the Cerebrons is also the unofficial leader at this particular time of all the superintelligent organisms called Cerebryons. He plays a dominant role in the activities of both the Cerebrons and the Myostrians, the two tribes which constitute the race of Ceremyons (or Mycerons, from a Myostrian point of view).
The Cerebrons are the mediators and deep thinkers of the race, spending their time in cogitation of philosophical problems while pursuing a nomadic life drifting over the Oyster world.
The Myostrians are the active doers, responsible not only for predicting the weather-and guiding the Cerebrons to locations of optimal conditions-but responsible also for controlling the weather. They tend to stay at fixed locations for relatively long times, but move around as necessary to set up or construct the various tools and structures used to control the weather.]
Cordell Scotten
The author-a chemical engineer and designer of computer systems for process control-left Dupont, Atomic Energy Division, in 1982 to spend full time writing fiction and practicing amateur theoretical physics. He sold a short story and a novelette to Analog, and between the two, took time out to pursue ideas concerning the nature of space and time by taking graduate courses in quantum mechanics, general relativity, and related subjects at the University of South Carolina. He has now expressed those space-time ideas mathematically in a paper-a conjecture-which is currently being considered for publication in a technical physics journal. The weather node compensator in this book and a novel nearing completion are based on fantasized extrapolations of that conjecture.