No one said anything. Georgi stared at his hands, his fingers woven together and his thumbs jousting. Margaret looked off into space — her whole body twisted away from the table. Hoblenz stared at Laura.
"So what are we going to do?" Dorothy asked softly, tossing her prized palmtop onto a yellow notepad.
"We're going to do our jobs," Gray said.
A sigh of frustration burst from Filatov. "But the computer's down to fifty-five percent capacity! We should've crashed hours… days ago."
"And we didn't," Gray replied.
"But we don't know why we didn't! How can the computer be doing everything on fifty-five percent capacity? It's impossible!"
"I think I can answer that," Laura said, looking at Gray. When he returned her gaze but said nothing, she continued. "The computer is partitioned in half. The computer we all talk to is located in the main pool underneath us, and the Other is in the annex. The Other controls the Model Threes and most of the facilities around the island."
"Not the assembly building," Gray interjected, and everybody looked his way. "The computer can't recognize it from the outside but it has managed to hang on to all of its operations inside." There was silence, and all his department heads wore looks of great astonishment. Gray turned back to Laura. "You can go on now."
Laura had the complete attention of the table. "My guess is that the functions being performed flawlessly are all on the Other's virus-free side of the partition. Is the 'stampede' occurring in the main pool?" she asked Dorothy.
The girl nodded. "We're not even getting any reports from the annex."
Laura was strangely unexcited at having guessed correctly. She felt a sense of security and confidence in rendering her opinions that might have owed itself to the painkillers.
"So what is the Other?" Margaret asked — her question directed not to Gray but to Laura.
"I don't know. The best analogy that I've been able to come up with is that it's a second personality that inhabits the computer. That, of course, raises the possibility of multiple personality disorder, which in humans is totally debilitating."
No one scoffed at Laura's theories this time. There wasn't even the obligatory snort from Margaret.
"Any other questions?" Gray asked, as if he himself had conducted the briefing.
"Yeah," Hoblenz replied in his gravelly voice. "What was on those rockets, Mr. Gray?" Everyone looked at the black-clad soldier in shock but then slowly, one by one, turned their eyes to Gray.
"Were there weapons in those payload bays? Is that what those robots in the assembly building have been loading?"
Gray's face was a mask.
He said nothing.
"I would also like to hear your answer to that question, Mr. Gray," Filatov joined in, not looking up from his clenched hands.
"The media — the news broadcasts carried on our own programs are saying that you might have launched some sort of orbital weapon platform. Since none of us here knows what was on those flights — including even your own director of space operations, apparently" — Filatov nodded across the table at the silent man—"for all we know that report is accurate."
Gray took a quick inventory of the faces around the table, ending with Filatov's. "I would tell you if you needed to know."
The emotions registered on the faces Laura surveyed ranged from anxiety to outright anger. "What about the navy ships?" Hoblenz asked. "There's about two thousand marines offshore our island. They may be over the horizon, but their hovercraft and helicopters can be here inside an hour. What's your plan, Mr. Gray?"
"My plan is for all of you to go about your jobs, and for me to go about mine. But since it seems to be of great interest" — his eyes panned the table and stopped on Laura—"let me assure you that I do not intend to engage in hostilities with anyone. If I've created the impression in the capitals of the world that I have an ace up my sleeve, then fine. But if I've created that impression in any of you, let me repeat one more time that there will be no bloodshed on this island or anywhere else."
"What if the robots don't oblige?" Hoblenz asked.
"That's another matter entirely."
"I've got men out there patrolling dark streets and risking their lives. Or so it would seem to them and to me. I'd like to know so I can tell 'em whether or not any of those robots are of the dangerous variety."
"You can tell them they are not."
"Well I know I can tell them that, but is it true?"
"If you mean true in the sense of whether any robots are homicidal, the answer is that they are not. They are, as we all know, dangerous machinery to be given a healthy measure of respect. But let me reassure you that none of the six Model Eights that are operational are homicidal in their intentions, goals, or plans."
"What about the other forty-two or so down under that mountain?" Laura asked.
"They aren't yet operational," Gray said as if that did away with her concern. "Now, I suggest you all return to your posts."
No one said anything as they filed out.
Laura pushed her chair back from the table. "Not you, please," Gray said.
The comment didn't go unnoticed by the others, nor did the fact that Gray waited in silence for them to leave. Hoblenz was the last one out, and he slapped the plate to close the door manually.
Gray and Laura were left alone. Laura's last glimpse of Hoblenz was of his hard stare.
"I thought maybe I would log on for a while longer," Laura said, "before turning in."
"The computer's too sick to talk right now," Gray replied, staring off into space. "Are you ready for another dose of the truth?"
This is it, Laura thought, bracing herself. It was either something mind-blowing or something truly bad. Whichever it was, Laura dreaded hearing it.
"If you want," she said just above a whisper.
Gray focused on the polished conference table as if reading from a TelePrompTer, but he read his lines too slowly and unnaturally. "I know how the soldier died last night. I've known it all along." He looked straight at her. "I killed him."
She stared into his eyes, concentrating all her attention not on what she saw there but on what she thought the man to be. "I don't believe you." She shook her head. "You ripped his head off? What? With your bare hands?"
"It might as well have been." He went back to his script, again not looking at her. "Last night I was working in Krantz's facility, trying through the terminals there to establish a link with the Other. The computer paged me, and I logged on to my cellular laptop. The computer told me it was having a nightmare. It happens sometimes — strange reports of fleeting perceptions — and it's been happening more frequently now that its world model is fragmented. This one was of strange animal noises from the jungle in the vicinity of the computer center. I got Hoblenz to send out a patrol. When the computer told me it'd heard the sound again, I started to get nervous."
He paused to take a long gulp of coffee from his mug. "The computer couldn't see the area, because it's lost those cameras to the Other, so the fastest thing I could think to do was to climb into one of Krantz's VR workstations. They're connected to the Other and to its model of the world. When I powered up the workstation, the VR picture of the nuclear lab seemed complete so I took off running. I ran down the coastal road into the Village." He looked up at Laura. "I amplified the audio, and I could easily hear the screams and breaking branches. When I got into the Village I ran into a trash bin behind the grocery store."
"Wait a minute," Laura said. "You're talking about where the kid at the town meeting said he saw something, right?" Gray nodded. "But this was virtual reality. I mean, you were really just in the workstation." He nodded again. "So how could that little boy have seen you? You weren't really there."