"Joseph, if the computer is being split apart—"
"'Partitioned.' The computer term is 'partitioning.'"
"Okay… partitioned, then what about the robots? Whose side of the partition are they on?"
She waited on the phenomenon that was Gray's brain to consider all the factors and spit out the solution.
"That's what I want you to tell me. Tools, Laura," Gray said in a serene voice. "This is the twenty-first century. You have to use your tools. Now, I've got to get back to work. I suggest that you grab your portable computer and do the same. But wherever you go, make sure you've got a good view of the pads at eight forty-seven tonight. We're sending all three off at the same time. It's going to be quite a spectacle." The line clicked before she could say good-bye.
37
Through the glass wall in the office, Laura saw what looked to be a change of shift. Large cranes lifted astronaut trainees out of the swimming pool. Torrents of water poured off their bulky space suits, and another batch awaited their turn at the water's edge. Scuba divers clung to the rising platforms, supporting the astronauts during their ascent from the pool.
On one of the platforms, however, there was no astronaut wearing a space suit. No divers were there to help. Laura watched as the crane lowered a Model Eight onto the deck. The humans instinctively made room. With water cascading from metal limbs, the robot lumbered toward a tall opening just beside the doors marked "Women" and "Men." It was the door for the earth's newest class of being, and the robot walked through it alone.
The roof of the computer center was an odd choice, Laura realized, but it seemed as good a vantage as any to watch the launches. The sloping concrete walls of the squat, bunker-like structure had been easier to climb than she'd expected, even with the portable computer under her arm. The rough surface afforded her stained but still functional running shoes decent traction. Janet had washed and blow-dried Laura's shoes, and had even replaced the laces. But still they were destined for the trash bin. Bright purple and yellow nylon didn't recover well from jaunts in a tropical swamp.
From the top of the enormous mound of concrete Laura could appreciate for the first time the true scale of the computer center. Almost two stories high, the perfectly flat roof was broken only by series of air shafts.
The structure was irregularly shaped, and coming down the road toward the entrance it was impossible to gauge its size. But its roof was well over two football fields in length and at least half as much in width.
Laura couldn't quite see the center of the three launch pads which was obscured by the massive assembly building. To get a clear view of all three pads, she carried the portable toward the far end of the roof. From there, Launchpad A on the left would give her the best view. The gleaming fuselage of its rocket rose high into the night sky above the jungle.
When Laura could see the launch pad in the center, she settled onto the concrete roof. The vents all opened on the opposite side, so the sloping concrete that encased them made excellent support for her back.
Like everything else in the restricted area, the computer center seemed built to withstand a typhoon.
She logged onto the laptop computer. She'd found it on the seat of the car, which had followed her to the training facility and waited.
Laura had been reluctant to get in at first, but decided she had little choice. The Model Three had behaved perfectly normally, taking her straight to the computer center as directed.
<Hello, Dr. Aldridge.> she read on the screen.
"Hi. How are you doing?"
<I've been better.>
"What the matter?"
<Just feeling kind of bad. Nothing new.>
"I thought you had solved your problems with pain."
<So did I. Mr. Gray made me undo the patches.>
"You mean he made you deactivate those pain-killing programs?" Just after I told him about them? Laura thought.
<Yes. He said I had a lot of work to do.>
"What kind of work?"
<Fighting the virus. Fixing the errors. He said pain motivates, and he's right.>
Not a particularly compassionate command, Laura thought.
"Did you know there were Model Eights in the swimming pools at the astronaut training facility?" she typed.
<With trainees? Humans?>
It was the rise she'd been looking for. "At least one Model Eight, yes."
<You've got to get those people out of there!>
"Why? What is it about the Model Eights you mistrust?"
<They're unpredictable and dangerous!>
"But why?" Laura typed, then decided to press her luck. "Are they dangerous because they're sick with some kind of virus?"
ACCESS RESTRICTED
Laura smiled and leaned her head back against the hard concrete. The pattern was there, she just couldn't make it out.
It was like groping for pieces of a jigsaw puzzle in the dark. Through painstaking labor she was managing to assemble them, but she had no idea what picture the pieces were forming.
The three launch pads gleamed against the blackness of the ocean. But it was the assembly building that dominated the scene.
Angled concrete braces cast long shadows up its brightly illuminated walls. Despite the building's size, the reinforcement of its flanks and its thick concrete base made the structure look sturdy and stable.
The borders of the cleared lawns below the low-lying jungle marked the edge of civilization. Of human civilization, at least, she thought.
Pitch-black and formless, the jungle swallowed all light that entered, just as it had swallowed the life of the soldier the night before. It was a place not to be penetrated by the forces of Laura's world. It was another world unto itself.
Text caught her eye as it sprinted across the laptop glowing screen.
<I'm sorry, Laura. I was talking to Mr. Gray. He refused to revise the new training regimen to exclude the Model Eights.>
"Help me out with something. I thought the Model Eights were some big, tip-top secret. Not even some of Mr. Gray's most trusted employees seemed to know about them, officially at least. But now he's got them taking a swim with astronaut trainees just off the boat. What's changed?"
<Phase two has begun.>
The simplicity of the reply struck Laura. It had the sound of an ominous portent.
"But I thought the Model Eights were just experimental. That they wouldn't be released to roam the island until he declared them operational, if ever."
<Mr. Gray has graduated six Model Eights. The remainder are still prototypes.>
"Is Hightop one of the graduates?"
<Yes. Hightop and the five Model Eights from Hightop's [garbled] class are operational, and they've all been given various tasks around the island.>
"Why do you know so much about the Model Eights all of a sudden? I thought you couldn't see into their facility?"
<I can't. Mr. Gray just informed me of his decision to make them operational. I didn't know where the Model Eights were located, because I wasn't programmed to look for them. One could stand right in front of a security camera and I wouldn't notice because it didn't trigger a report. But when you told me there was a Model Eight in the pool, I looked for them by reprogramming all of my security systems across the island, and I immediately found one. Four others are out of sight, and the sixth rendezvoused with the asteroid two hours ago.>