"Allen, Roger Macbride - 01 - Isaac Asimov's Caliban" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Roger Macbride)

ДMaТam, I am afraid I do not understand.У
ДI need time, Ariel. You know as well as I do that I need time to find things out for myself. I have, ah--interests--I wish to protect. Д
Tonya Welton rose, crossed the room, and began pacing back and forth, her actions at last betraying the nervousness Ariel had known was there. ДI have interests to protect,У she said again. ДHe is in hiding, Ariel,У Tonya said, and there was no need for her to speak the manТs name. ДHe wonТt even accept messages from me. That proves something is wrong. He is in danger, and that danger could only increase if his connection to me were revealed at the wrong moment. And I strongly suspect that Alvar Kresh would take a special pleasure in destroying anything--or anyone--that I hold dear.У

ALVAR Kresh was glad to get out of WeltonТs office, to put it mildly. As the elevator arrived at ground level, and he no longer had to hold his claustrophobia in check, he found himself breathing a sigh of relief, and felt his spirits suddenly rise. His anger seemed to fade away into the blessedly open skies.
ДI fear our visit was not especially productive,У Donald said. ДMadame Welton did not offer much in the way of useful information or insight, and I do not see what she learned from us that she could not have learned by our sending a data transmission. Nor can I see why our presence was needed at the Ironhead riot. Your deputies handled that without any need of your expertise.У
ДDonald, Donald, Donald,У Kresh said as they walked across the parkland toward their aircar.У And you call yourself a student of human nature. That meeting had nothing at all to do with the exchange of information. Human beings very often are not talking about what they are talking about.У
ДSir?У
ДWe were there not to assist in countering the Ironhead demonstration, but to witness it, and to get the clear message that the Leving case could make such encounters worse. If the populace of Hades gets the idea that Settlers are attempting to discredit robots by staging attacks that seem to be committed by robots, the Ironheads wonТt be able to handle all the new recruits.У
ДBut what concern is that of yours?У
ДI am in charge of keeping the peace, for one thing. But bear in mind that she chose to meet us on her turf. Up here, on the surface, the air is still smoky, and weТre near enough the perimeter of Settlertown that the air smells of desert again. Down below, all was serene and quiet, and the air was sweet. Another clear message: The Settlers have no reason to fear the rioters. The Settlers can hunker down in their artificial cave. But the citizens of Hades have no such option. And yet the current plans for terraforming all rely on the Settlers. In short, Tonya Welton was telling us we need her far more than she needs us,У Alvar Kresh said as they reached the aircar.
Donald sat down at the controls and they took off. ДDid it strike you as odd that she wished to know so much about the Leving case? After all, she has no responsibility to investigate crimes,У the robot said as he maneuvered for altitude.
ДYes, I wondered about that. In fact, I rather got the impression that she was waiting for us to say something we didnТt, though the devil alone would know what that might be. I donТt know, Donald. Perhaps she has some genuine personal or professional interest in LevingТs well-being.У
ДI see,У Donald said, some trace of uncertainty in his voice. ДBut I donТt regard that as a sufficient explanation of Lady TonyaТs strong interest. Note that she scarcely asked at all about Fredda Leving herself. It was only the robotic aspect of the case that interested her. Why does she care so deeply about the case, and why does she regard it as so overwhelmingly important?У
ДI tell you what I think, Donald,У Kresh said as he watched the landscape below. ДI think a Settler committed the crime, perhaps acting directly under Tonya WeltonТs orders, precisely to set off more disturbances and give the Settlers an excuse to get off the planet. Bringing us in today during the riot was merely the first step in orchestrating that withdrawal.У
ДMight I ask your reasons for thinking that?У Donald asked impassively as he guided the aircar.
ДWell, first off, I donТt like Settlers. I know thatТs not much of a reason, but there it is. And second, say what Tonya Welton will about this contingent of Settlers being trained to understand our ways and appreciate the Three Laws, I still canТt believe a Spacer would try any of the stunts that have been suggested to explain the attack. Think about them: building a remote-control device that mimicked a robot, strapping on robot feet and using a robot arm as a club, building and programming a special-purpose killer robot. No Spacer would do those things.
ДWelton was right about one thing--the Three Laws are close to being our state religion. Interfering with them, abusing them or the concept of robots in any way, would be close to blasphemy. There are times when I think our illustrious Governor Chanto Grieg is pushing so hard for change that someoneТs going to bounce up and call him a heretic. Maybe it even goes deeper than that. I find the very idea of perverting robots to be stomach-turning. ItТs like the prohibition against cannibalism or incest. I doubt any Spacer unbalanced enough to make the attempt would still be sane enough to do all the methodical planning required.
ДNo. Only a Settler would be stupid enough--well, all right, ignorant enough--to try and plant the idea that a robot could commit an act of violence. Any Spacer would know how deep and abiding the prohibition against that is.У
Alvar stopped and thought for a minute. Suddenly a new and disturbing thought dawned on him. ДIn fact, that might well be the motive. Maybe the Settlers donТt want to leave. WeТve been too tied up with figuring how the attack was made to stop and wonder why anyone would want to attack Fredda Leving.У
ДIТm afraid I donТt follow you, sir,У Donald said.
ДLetТs just ignore all of WeltonТs nonsense about respecting us as an alternate culture. She as much as said they came here as missionaries, hoping to convert us away from robots. The Settlers--this lot on Inferno, and all of them generally--are always casting about for ways to make the Spacer dependence on robots look like a weakness, instead of a strength. Trying to convince us to abandon robots. You spoke about the need for us to trust robots. Suppose the attack on Leving is the opening salvo in a campaign to make us afraid of our own robots?У
ДI see the point, sir, but I am forced to question the choice of Fredda Leving as the victim. Why would the Settlers attack their own ally?У
Kresh shook his head. ДI donТt pretend to understand their politics, but perhaps there is some sort of bad blood between Welton and Leving. Some sort of resentment, some sort of competition or disagreement between them. Jomaine Terach hinted at it. It must be tied up in this grand project we canТt be told about yet.
ДAnd I donТt think weТre going to get anywhere until we know what thatТs about.У

THREE hours later, Alvar Kresh sat at his desk, reading through the daily reports, making notes to himself on the status of this investigation, that application for promotion. By rights, he should have gone home to bed, allowed himself some rest. All told, he had gotten perhaps an hourТs sleep the night before. But he was too keyed up to sleep, too eager to leap back in and get on with the chase.
Except, as yet, there was nothing to chase. Until and unless Gubber Anshaw emerged from his home, Kresh would be unable to question him. Maybe the forensic labs would be able to come up with something as they sifted through all the physical evidence at the scene. Kresh had a bet with himself that forensics would come up with something--but that it would be misleading. Whoever had done this thing seemed damned clever at leaving clues that did not point anywhere.
But until something broke with a witness, or evidence, there was damn little he could do.
No, there was one other possibility. There was always the chance of another incident. Another attack that could give him a pattern, a rhythm, he could work with. Another attack carried out a bit more sloppily. It was a terrible thing for a policeman to wish for a new crime to be committed, but there were precious few other ways he could get a break on this case. What else could he do? Send half the force out randomly searching for robot-soled boots? Surely the perpetrator had destroyed them by now, or else hidden them well indeed, ready for the next attack.
Alvar struggled to get his mind off the case. After all, he did have a department to run. He managed to get through a worrying report from personnel, regarding a sudden uptick in the number of resignations from the force. But his resistance to distraction did not hold for long. Even that report, with its hints of a danger to the whole future of the department, did not occupy the whole of his mind.
Because the Settlers were here to take over. He knew that much, deep in his gut. No matter how many denials or reassurances they made, no matter how much noise Governor Grieg made about rapprochement and new eras of cooperation, Kresh would still believe--would still know--the Settlers looked at Inferno simply as a world ripe for colonization.
For the time being, the Settlers--at least most of them--were making polite noises, being respectful of local culture, but that would not last. Local culture. There was a political code word, if ever there had been one. A euphemism for the use of robots. Some optimists thought that the Settlers on Inferno would grow used to robots, come to see the advantages of robots, and perhaps even return home to their Settler worlds singing the praises of robots. A market would develop for Spacer robots on Settler worlds, and everyone would get rich selling robots to Settlers.
But Kresh had no such illusions. The Settlers were here to take over, not to be sold serving robots. Once they were firmly in control of Inferno--well, all it took to be done with a robot was a single shot from a blaster. After they had wiped out the robots, the Settlers wouldnТt even need to move against the Spacers. Spacer culture--and individual Spacers--needed robots the way a person needed food and drink. Too many jobs were given over to robots, too many people had never bothered to learn tasks that were more easily left to robots. Without robots, the Spacers were doomed.
Which brought him back to his central point: What happened to Spacers if robots could no longer be trusted?
And what if the Settlers engaged in a plot for the express purpose of finding out?

BLEND in, Caliban told himself. Observe what the other robots do. Behave as they do. Already, he had developed the sophistication to know his very survival might depend on acting like the others. He walked back and forth across Hades, watching and learning, shuttling back and forth across the city as day crossed the sky and night came on.


6

GUBBER Anshaw paced the floor of his living room in fretful distraction. They had to have found her by now. Surely they had. But had she survived? The question clawed at his soul. She had been alive when he had left, of that much he was certain. Surely a robot had found her and saved her. That place was teeming with robots. Except, of course, Gubber himself had ordered all the robots to stay away that night. He had forgotten that in his panic.
But that pool of blood, the terrible way her face was cut, the way she lay so still. He should have stayed, he should have risked all and tried to help. But no, his own fears, his own cowardice, had prevented that.
And Tonya! His own dear, dear Tonya! Even in the midst of his anguish, Gubber Anshaw found a moment in his thoughts to marvel once again that such a woman would care, could care, for a man like Gubber Anshaw. But now, perhaps, caring for him had only placed her in danger.
Unless, of course, it was she who had placed him in danger. A tight knot of suspicion pulled taut in his chest. How could he even think such thoughts? But how could he avoid them?
There were so many questions he dared not ask, even of himself. How mixed up in all this was she? He had sacrificed greatly, perhaps had sacrificed all for her. Had he been right to do so? What would be the consequences of his actions? What had he done that night?
He glanced toward the comm panel. Every alert light on it was blinking. The outside world was trying to reach him over every sort of comm link he had. No doubt word from Tonya was there, waiting for him with all the others. No doubt she had wangled access to the police reports by now. And no doubt she would know just how eager he was to see those reports.
Gubber Anshaw paced the floor, worrying, waiting, forcing down the impulse to look at the wall clock. He had covered it with a cloth long ago, anyway. Perhaps his reflexes directed his glance toward the clock, but his conscious self most definitely did not want to know what the time was. He no longer had even the remotest idea how much time had passed, whether or not it was day or night. He could have found out in an instant, of course, by pulling the cover off the clock or by asking a robot. But there was some part of him that urgently resisted knowing.
In some irrational corner of himself, he was sure he could no longer hide from the universe if he knew what time it was. So long as the hour and the day were hidden from him, he could imagine himself cut off, outside the flow of time, cocooned away behind his shut-down comm panel and his robots, safe inside his little sanctuary, no longer part of the outside world.