“But here the climate was truly savage. No amount of fleshly adaptation could sustain us against the alternate desiccation of the summer sunlight and freezing of the winter. But we discovered how actually to shape our environment somewhat for our comfort, by Grafting deep pools in hollows on the land that the predators could not reach, or by walling off sea inlets so that predators had difficulty passing. Food was a serious problem on land, but we learned to cultivate simple cells and feed on them.
“The most important breakthrough was the development of linguistic communication. It enabled us to form, in effect, a larger entity, that was better able to cope with inclement conditions. We now dominate our planet, and no other species preys on us. But when the first shuttle from an alien planet landed, we realized that a great deal more remained to be mastered.”
“But how do you reproduce?” Mach asked.
“By fission. We grow to sufficient size, then divide into clone entities, each the same as the original.”
“But this should result in the continual fragmentation of the species,” Mach protested.
“No. When two of us have need, we flow together, and the dominant genes establish a new entity with traits of each of the contributors. Then we fission, and the clones are similar. This process maintains a unified species.”
“But each individual loses its identity when mergence occurs,” Mach protested. “A new individual is formed, a compromise creature.”
“Yes. This is why our leading scholars avoid mergence as long as possible. Unfortunately, mergence is our nature; aging and weakening occur if it is postponed too long. Thus we are unable to maintain a truly discrete intellectual stratum in the fashion of the creatures of other planets. This, we now perceive, is a liability.”
“Sexual reproduction allows individuals to reproduce in a species-unifying way without sacrificing their individuality,” Mach said. “That is an asset.”
“Yes. That is why we seek to master this style of reproduction. We are devising a mechanism of uneven fission, so that the clones are not of the same size.”
“But the merging entities must still form new individuals,” Mach protested. “The size should not affect that.”
“True. But it enables one of the clones to retain identity.”
“I am a machine. My thinking may be limited. I don’t follow this.”
Coan showed him to another exhibit. This was an expanded view of two amoeba. “Each adult fissions unevenly,” he explained. As he spoke, the models divided, each forming one large and one small daughter cell. The amoeba, of course, were single-celled, despite their size. “But this is contrary to our nature; the smaller individuals cannot survive alone, being too small to sustain the sophisticated processes of our advanced state. They must merge immediately, while the larger ones are able to survive independently.” The two small ones merged, forming a new individual of about the size of the parent amoeba.
Now Mach understood. “The two parents survive unchanged; together they have generated a new individual, without sacrificing their identities!”
“Yes. This is our analogue of sexual reproduction. By this device we can retain our memories and culture, without sacrificing succeeding generations. But problems remain. The fission into uneven clones is not natural to us, and there is little individual incentive to do it. We need to make it sufficiently rewarding so that every one of us has an incentive to do it this way instead of the old way.”
“And so you are studying the other species of the galaxy, seeking the secret of sexual attraction and fulfillment,” Mach said. “That was what Agape was doing, when she encountered—” He hesitated, then continued. “Me.”
“Yes. It appears that she was successful.”
“I believe so. Not only did she learn the physical pleasure of sexual union, she learned the emotional pleasure of love.”
“We have had difficulty with the latter concept.”
“I am sure you have! But Agape will try to explain it to you when she returns to this planet. Meanwhile, if I might offer a suggestion—”
“We are seeking suggestions from all sources.”
“I am a robot. I have no natural emotions or pleasures. All that I am is unnaturaclass="underline" the result of programming for specific effects. Yet I do have pleasure, and I do love. Perhaps you need to program artificial inducements for your artificial process of reproduction.”
“How can you, as you say a machine, know that your feelings would have meaning for living creatures?” Coan asked. “You have had no living experience.”
Mach decided to be open. “I have had living experience. My identity has crossed over into the body of a living male. I found the sensations and emotions more intense, but of the same general nature. I had not understood them before that experience, but when I returned to my machine body, so did the emotions, and I know they are the same, only reduced somewhat in strength. Enhancement of my programming could correct that. If you could arrange for genetic programming of similar emotions—”
Just then two others barged into the chamber. “My pursuers!” Mach said. “I must flee or fight!”
“But there can be no violence here!” Coan protested. Mach ran for the far exit—and encountered a third intruder, a Moebite in the form of a giant legged ball, with two tentacles at the top holding the poles of what he recognized as an electronic shorting device. One touch of that, and he would be turned off. They had come prepared!
But they were amoeba, not robots. They lacked his strength and ferocity of reflex. He dived below the dangerous tentacles and slammed into the ball-body. It squished. He reached up to grasp the insulated handle end of a pole and ripped it out of the flaccid grasp. He jammed the point against the opposite point.
There was a flash. That shorted out the shorter; it was now useless. He dropped it and scrambled on out of the chamber.
Soon he found himself outside, on land. But the others were following, and he knew they would not be careless again with their shorters. He had to get farther away.
The water! He could handle it, and the shorter could not. He would be safe there. He ran for it, and plunged in.
In a moment he was in the wilderness of uncivilized Moeba. Life was thick, here in the sunlit shallows, and he discovered to his surprise, also beautiful.
Some shapes were like yellow ferns, waving gently in the warm current. Some were like patches of blue gelatin, spread across the warm rocks. Some were like pink puffballs clinging to vertical surfaces, and others like the thick brown bristles of scrub brushes. Some were like flowing syrup, and some like puffy white mold—which they just might be. Many were like large ant eggs standing on end, and many others were like dewed spider webs.
This was the realm from which Agape had sprung. He made a file of photographs of it, so that Bane would be able to recall this information and see it all, exactly as Mach was seeing it now, when Bane returned to this body. Mach knew that his living other self would be pleased.
He was safe, now, walk-swimming through the water. But how was he to return safely to Proton? By this time Citizen Blue would have secured things there; all Mach needed to do was get there, and see how Fleta was doing.
He decided to wait a reasonable interval, then return to the museum, where the Moebite authorities should have dealt with the intruders. As Coan had said violence was not tolerated there; they would do whatever they did to criminals. Then he would be able to return to the space station in the normal manner and take the next ship for Proton. It should be straightforward now that he had triggered the trap and escaped it. Agape too, should be safe, when she came here; the Contrary Citizens’ fangs had been pulled, at least on this planet.