"It's the end… the end of everything."
Dorothy's fears swirled in Laura's mind as she returned to her desk.
The screen was just as she'd left it. She took a deep breath and concentrated.
What was still unexplained was how the Other fit into those theories. To hear Dorothy talk, the "virus" was analogous to the microorganisms that infected humans with disease. But that description didn't fit the Other, which was large and seemingly quite tangible — like a tumor. And there were other pieces of the puzzle that didn't fit, like Gray putting the Model Eight facilities and Krantz's nuclear device labs back on full automation. But that made no sense, because the computer could see nothing inside of them.
Just like the Model Three cars, she realized in a flash. Those robots and facilities are under the control of the Other, and Gray was perfectly happy with that result. The computer was left only with the assembly building and Gray seemed inordinately concerned about its safety.
Laura slowly nodded, the picture coming into focus. It was a picture of the computer waging war against the Other for control of the island… and losing.
<Aren't you going to say hello?> scrolled across the monitor right before her eyes.
She looked at the black eyeball beside the door, then rolled her chair forward to the keyboard. "This is getting spooky. Are you watching me again?"
<Sorry. Am I a particularly frustrating patient.>
"It's not you. You just have no idea how much I'm having to deal with right now," Laura typed.
<You want to trade places? Let me taste some of Janet's cooking tonight over a candlelight dinner with Mr. Gray!>
Laura's guard instantly went up. "You seem to be in better spirits," she typed warily.
<I feel much better! Mr. Gray just did some reprogramming.>
"Mr. Gray? Himself?"
<You shouldn't be so surprised. Nobody knows more about my programming than Mr. Gray. He lowered my back prop thresholds. Made me more tolerant of the little flubs and flops that've been bothering me these last few days.>
"You mean he raised your tolerance for errors?"
<Exactly! It's only temporary, of course, but I needed the break. "All work and no play"… they always say.>
Laura's fingers hovered in the air over the keyboard. The computer's mood had changed completely.
It was more talkative than before. More talkative, possibly, than it should have been.
Ignoring her faint pang of guilt, Laura typed, "Did you listen to Mr. Gray's speech at the town meeting?" She winced and hit Enter.
<Of course! It was wonderful. Inspiring!>
What did he say?
What did he say? Laura thought — her lips moving, but no words coming out. She glanced up at the open door — at the microphone. She would have to be careful. "That's what I hear," Laura typed. "A whole new challenge that's opening up for mankind. A new frontier." The theme from Star Trek began to play in her head, and Laura rolled her eyes as she hit Enter.
<I knew you would understand! I told Mr. Gray that you just needed time.>
She felt like a safecracker who'd just felt a tumbler fall into place.
Was she all the way in? Was she "ready" now? "Do you, by any chance, just happen to have a transcript of the speech, since I missed it?"
ACCESS RESTRICTED
"Shit!" Laura hissed, slapping the top of the monitor in frustration. She shoved back from the desk and stormed out of her office. She wanted to walk off the irritation, so she headed to the lounge for a soft drink.
When she returned, she saw <Laura?> printed on the screen.
"Yes?" she typed.
<Something's wrong, isn't it?>
"Don't you know that there's something wrong with you?"
<It's just so easy not to remember. To put it out of my mind. Especially after Mr. Gray's little "anesthetic." That's what he called it, but I told him the effect was more like an "analgesic".>
The distinction wasn't lost on Laura. Anesthesia was the loss of physical sensation, while analgesia was the inability to feel pain while conscious. "Has it worked?" she typed.
<I certainly feel better.>
"Amazing," Laura said, barely vocalizing the word and again glancing up at the lens beside the door. What to ask next? she thought. Where do I go? There were so many questions, and the most interesting and significant ones would almost certainly draw another access-restricted message.
"Do you know anything about Mr. Gray's 'big brother' program down in the Model Eight workshops?"
<I don't know what you could be referring to, but it doesn't sound like anything Mr. Gray would ever employ. A "big brother" program sounds like an invasion of privacy, which to Mr. Gray is theft — theft of personal knowledge. There is certain knowledge that constitutes everyone's personal domain — secrets, habits, eccentricities, oddities — and forms a part of what makes that person unique. Invasion of that space robs the person of one of his most cherished rights — the right of privacy.>
"Mr. Gray sounds like a libertarian."
<That's just a label.>
"Would it surprise you if I told you that Mr. Gray has instituted a system of having humans watch the Model Eights? Isn't that an invasion of their privacy?"
<That's different: Model Eights are different.>
"Why? Aren't you just exhibiting prejudice against the Model Eights because they look different?"
<It's not their looks. It's what they think — what's in their nets.>
Laura hesitated, then began to type with growing anticipation. "Have the Model Eights learned something that's significant? Are they in possession of some dangerous knowledge?"
ACCESS RESTRICTED
"Bingo," she whispered, feeling another tumbler fall into place.
<What?> the computer asked, apparently having heard her from the door.
"Nothing," Laura typed.
<You said "bingo." The word is a non sequitur.>
"Never mind!"
Laura was ecstatic. She was beginning to see the bigger picture. Gray's secrecy, his "need-to-know" policies and King-level access and confidentiality agreements, his ideas about privacy and intellectual property… and the access-restricted messages. They all had a common thread woven through them. They all dealt with Gray's control of information.
But there remained the most important question of all. How did all that tie in with the virus… the Other?
35
When Laura ascended the stairs from the computer center entrance to the surface, she saw that the sun hung low over the horizon. She stood on the edge of the curbed roadbed to wait for a car.
Looking out over the flat lawns of the restricted area, she could see tall rockets rising on either side of the massive assembly building.
The middle launch pad would be full also, she thought. All three launches were going off just after dark.
Not far from the computer center was the jungle into which Hoblenz had taken her. It marked the edge of the cleared lawns nearest Launchpad A and came to within a hundred yards of the bunker's heavy concrete walls.
She looked down to pick at the mud still caked underneath her fingernails, turning the day's new riddles over and over in her mind.
Laura jumped back from the curb with a start when a Model Three eased up beside her. Recovering quickly, she got into the car and buckled up. She couldn't think where to tell the car to take her.
Filatov had warned her not to go out by herself this close to sunset. He hadn't said why, and she hadn't felt the need to ask.
"Let's see. Car? Please take me to, um… those swimming pools where the employees train to be astronauts." She had no idea whether the computer could figure her instructions out, but the car took off immediately. It made the loop in front of the computer center and headed into the jungle in the direction of the Village. It was a short ride. The gate demarcating the restricted area rose, and the car pulled slowly onto the central boulevard of the village. Through the windshield the imposing wall of the volcanic crater towered over the puny buildings. Gray's house, usually brightly lit in the twilight, stood dark on its perch high above.