"I'm saying we've entered a new phase."
He raised an arm and pointed. She was more interested in the man — in his face. "There's one of our robots right there."
Laura peered out across the lawn to see the distant headlights of an approaching vehicle. She found herself wondering what connection Gray saw between the new phase and his sudden sighting of the robot.
Laura suddenly felt as if she were with the only other person on the earth. Alone amid the brightly lit objects that had sprung directly from his imagination. But it wasn't as if he were the only other person, she realized. It was as if he were at the center of the world that had sprung from his mind and now rose from the flat fields all around. The world that she had now entered.
Gray continued his walk toward the assembly building. "We made a discovery," he said. His voice again chased away Laura's thoughts. "To develop intelligence, we had to give the computer mobility. We had to give it the ability to explore the physical world. To pick objects up. To break them. To develop a 'feel' for all the laws of nature that we take for granted. Mobility — that's the key… in more ways than one."
He sighed. "We're operational with Model Sevens. The first two models were experimental. Then came the Model Threes, which are those cars we ride around the island in. Models Four and Five have been retired or immobilized as limited-sequence robots along the assembly line. Finally came the Model Sixes and Sevens. We've got a couple hundred Model Sixes that are still in use, and we're up to over a hundred Model Sevens."
He raised his arm again and pointed to their left. "That one's a Six."
It was still a great distance away, and Laura could see nothing save a vehicle with a pair of closely set headlights and a flashing beacon on top. It was driving along the field straight their way. A faint hum like that of a lawnmower could be heard.
They were walking toward a point that would intersect the path followed by the robot. Laura studied the [garbled] approached.
Its ability to mow grass at thirty miles per hour seemed less impressive than the driverless cars of the earlier generation.
"Both the Sixes and Sevens were designed entirely by the computer. And the computer itself is, for the most part, designed by itself. We know pretty much how the hardware works. What's revolutionary is the software."
When the Model Six was about a hundred yards away, the noise of the mower was cut. The wheeled robot had halted. A large, centrally mounted arm lifted a rigid bag high into the air. By snagging the bottom of the bag on the lip of its towed bin, the robot managed to turn the unwieldy bag over. Grass cuttings poured into the bin. A light shone down from atop the superstructure — the robot's "head" and the arm tilted the bag up so the light shone inside. Some cuttings were obviously caught inside. To dislodge them, the robot turned the bag upside down again and shook. It then repeated the inspection with the light. On the third try it slammed the bag down, which apparently did the trick. The robot resumed its course — the mower's growl first rising, then falling upon contact with uncut grass.
That showed logical problem-solving, Laura thought. Out of the blue Laura felt a rushing sensation like she was shot along a path for which she was unprepared. She grew chilled as the implications of what she'd observed sunk in. Had they taught it to bang the bag like that, or had it learned on its own?
For the first time, Laura inspected the lights atop the robot.
There was no flashing beacon on its "head" as she had thought. There were a pair of lights mounted atop the machine flitting independently about the ground in rapid jerks. Jumping from one patch of grass to another, the high-intensity beams ranged in jittery motions across a broad arc in front of the vehicle, shifting in almost nervous agitation several times every second. The lights were searching the field along the robot's path.
Laura headed down the paved walkway toward the robot, watching the spectacle of its highly coordinated movements as it neared. Gray followed her now. When they were about twenty yards away, the brilliant lights atop the robot locked onto them. Laura stopped and raised her hand to shield her eyes. The robot's mower shut off completely — the whir of the blades quickly winding down.
A few moments later, the twin searchlights were extinguished.
All was quiet now. Laura stared at the motionless robot. The two housings encasing the lights remained trained on them.
"Mr. Gray," a voice boomed from some unseen loudspeaker behind them, "please report to the computer center."
The announcement echoed across the field, and Gray turned and said, "I guess we'll do our tour of the assembly building later this evening."
He turned and gently ushered Laura back toward the bunker. She still stared at the darkened, motionless machine over her shoulder.
She couldn't shake the feeling that despite its apparent inactivity, it stared back at her as well.
As soon as they turned, the light illuminated them again — their figures casting long shadows along the walkway in the high-intensity beams. The skin on Laura's back crawled. They were being watched.
The lights moved on, and the mower started up.
Laura couldn't resist another glance over her shoulder. The robot's single long arm stretched out in front of its carriage as both lights focused on a fixed patch of earth ahead — and a piece of trash just beside the walkway. Laura stopped to watch. As the robot passed the illuminated focus of its attention, the arm snapped at the ground with surprising speed. Continuing on, the robot crossed the road and held its closed claw up to the lights, rotating its trophy first left, then right. Following the inspection, it casually reached back and tossed the trash into the towed bin. It didn't have to look back, Laura noticed. It knew where the bin was.
Gray stood beside her in silence, his face an inscrutable mask.
"That was really amazing!" Laura said.
Slowly, the corners of his lips curled and his expression — his entire manner — softened. The thin streaks of blazing artificial light flickered in his dark but smiling eyes.
He turned and headed for the bunker. Laura followed him down the steps to the metal door — searching for clues in the expression of the silent and enigmatic genius.
10
Gray stared into a peephole at the entrance to the computer center. A metallic popping sound emanated from deep within the concrete. He straightened, and with a rumble the ponderous door began to recede into the wall. Eyeing the stainless steel mechanisms protruding from the doorframe, Laura first thought the place was built like a vault. Or a blast shelter, she decided on further reflection.
The foot-thick slab of metal thudded firmly into place, and a lighter inner door hissed and briskly slid open. A dimly lit room lay ahead. Through its center was a narrow, metal gangplank which had two railings running from one side to the other. Laura followed the silent Gray into the compartment, feeling in the pinch of her throat, the shallowness of her breathing, and the thump of her heart the return of an overwhelming unease. Gray halted halfway across the gangplank, which was suspended in air inside the black metal chamber.
The sound of compressed air accompanied the closing of the compartment's exit. Through the walls Laura could hear the vault door closing as well. She searched the recesses of the dark chamber for clues as to its purpose. The floors, walls, and ceiling were black metal slats — the angles all directed toward the slender catwalk.
Laura waited for Gray to proceed, but he stood lost in thought — one hand firmly gripping the railing.
"Oh," he said, "I should mention that the computer center is semi-clean. We have to minimize dust, you understand." A buzzer sounded, and a screen ahead glowed red with the words "Blowers Activated." A rapid series of clacks sounded from behind the grates that surrounded them. Gray shouted, "You might want to hold onto…!" — his last words drowned out by the whine.