"Fontana,.D.C.-.Questor.Tapes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fontana D C)

response and the android could see his logic. "Good. We're finally beginning to communicate. You see, there's a difference between things we'd like to do and things we can do."
Questor had completed his rapid examination of the wallet's contents and sat listening carefully. He looked up at Jerry and nodded. "Thank you. I comprehend perfectly."
"Good. And flying to London is something we can't do."
"Incorrect, Mr. Robinson. Since Vaslovik's records on you included your economic reputation, I was certain we could travel to London using one of your delayed-specie cards." He lifted several credit cards from the wallet and held them out.
Jerry stared at him, stunned. The android displayed the cards for him as innocently as a child. He was innocent in many ways, but Jerry had suddenly had it. Rage churned up in him, shaking his body and his voice. "You are planning to use my credit cards?"
Questor nodded calmly. "Is it not a quite common way of...?"
Jerry grabbed the wallet and cards out of his hands and stuffed them back into his jacket pocket. "I have had it! With Darro . . . with you. Jerry Robinson is finished being pushed around by humans or machines!" He slapped his hand on the car-door handle. "Now, I'm going to open this door and leave. You can knock me unconscious, but keep in mind that you can't get on an airplane carrying me. From now on, you're on your own!"
He opened the car door; but as he started to get out, Questor's arm shot across his chest. He was pressed gently but firmly back into his seat. Questor's face remained blank as Jerry glared at him. Why couldn't he understand what went on behind those expressionless eyes?
"My imperative will not allow me to release you, Mr. Robinson. Your subsequent actions could prevent me from finding my creator."
"What are you going to do then? Kill me?"
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"Thank you," Questor said flatly. "That is the logical alternative."
Jerry felt his heartbeat thundering at a reckless speed, but he remained still, staring steadily at Questor. The android stared back. Then Questor dropped his arm.
"Strange. I find it impossible. I must endeavor to continue alone."
Jerry promptly got out, slamming the car door after him. He hunched his shoulders against the damp, chilly air that always seemed to hang over the airport at night, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and started to walk away. He took five steps before he hesitated, took another, then stopped. This should be easy. Why couldn't he just walk away? Darro would find the android, even if it got as far as London, which he doubted it could. But something made him go back to the open car window where Questor sat, unmoving.
Jerry leaned in. "Look, I can almost understand what's driving you. We humans ... we spend a lot of our lives sort of seeking our creator, too. But you can't abduct people, commit immoral acts in doing it."
The android looked at him innocently. "Humans do not commit immoral actions in seeking their creator?"
Jerry looked away, shaken by the question. How could anyone answer that-honestly? He decided it was safer to divert the android for now and try to figure out a reply later. "Look, you can't make it alone! You'll give yourself away, there'll be panic, probably bullets. You're too valuable to be damaged or destroyed. And innocent people could be hurt."
"Then it seems most logical to me that you come with me, protect me, guide me in areas of morality. I will accede to any request which does not violate my programmed imperative."
"I'd like to believe that," Jerry sighed. "You forget I am merely an ambulatory computer device, Mr. Robinson. I would find any deception quite difficult."
Jerry shot a suspicious look at Questor as the android evenly repeated that he was merely an ambulatory com-
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puter device. Was he? He was capable of so much more than even Jerry thought he had been programmed for. Could he lie, too? Was he lying now? Questor returned Jerry's look with his now-familiar calm innocence. Only after they were actually on the plane and airborne did Jerry realize that he had stopped thinking of Questor as "it" and had begun to regard him as a man.
Lydia Parker brought a tray of discarded glasses and empty miniature liquor bottles back to the galley in the waist of the 747. Her fellow stewardess in coach, Jean Klein, glanced around at her as she began to stow the plastic glasses. "Getting along all right?"
Lydia smiled. "So far, my first transatlantic flight is a cinch."
"Night flights usually are. Light load, and most of the passengers try to sleep."
Lydia nodded and straightened up. "I've got two who look like they're playing owl. One of them's reading everything onboard."
Jean peeked around the galley entrance. "Which?"
"Fifty-nine A and B. Can you see them?"
The long rows of high-backed seats prevented a good view, but Jean could make out the two men seated alone on the port side of the big cruiser. "Maybe they can't sleep."
"Well, they certainly do read."
Jerry had watched Questor whip through a thick pile of newspapers and magazines. The android read a sheet in a glance, tearing through the publications as fast as pages could be turned. Jerry found that he had suddenly developed a habit of jumping nervously whenever anyone approached. In the meantime, Questor carried on a conversation as he read, apparently at ease doing both.
"Do you know if Vaslovik had any affinity for aquatic vehicles, Mr. Robinson? I was able to ascertain that he did not own one."
"Sailing, yachting, that kind of thing?"
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"I believe so. A fragment from my creator's tape seems to associate his location with such a vehicle."
Jerry puzzled over it, trying to remember his casual conversations with the scientist. Vaslovik seldom discussed outside interests. Jerry had had an impression that Vaslovik had very few, at least none he had talked about. "I don't recall Professor Vaslovik ever mentioning any boat or ship. Look, I'm more interested right now in something called passports. In London, they'll discover they weren't packed in our luggage." His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "We don't even have luggage!"
"I have a plan," Questor said calmly. "My programming included detailed information on international law and procedure."
Jerrystared at him, startled. "That wasn't part of the university programming."
"I referred to my creator's tape. It is puzzling why he would consider this necessary. Also, my compulsion to acquire information on your world. It must be satisfying to be human and know the reason for one's existence."
Fleetingly, Jerry wondered if Questor was teasing him, but decided he couldn't be. Nothing the android had said even hinted at a sense of humor. Questor was absolutely serious, of course. "Maybe we're not so different," Jerry said. "Not in that way, at least."
"At least you" know you are alive, part of a world of living things. In my case . . ." Questor paused, bemused. "Strange, I almost stated that I feel loneliness. Is it possible I was meant to feel and that this was among the things erased from my creator's tape?" He resumed reading.
Jerry studied him for a long moment before he answered. "I've no way of knowing what he did intend for you. I'm sorry, Questor."
The android's bright blue eyes came up and rested on him. The head tilted slightly to the right, quizzically. " 'Questor.' The first time you have spoken to me by name, Mr. Robinson. Thank you." He dropped his attention back to the magazine.
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"Slower," Jerry hissed suddenly. "No one can read that fast!"
Jean Klein came down the aisle with a fresh stack of magazines, wanting to get a closer look at them. Questor reduced his reading speed, but it was equal to riffling the pages. Jerry jammed an elbow into Questor's ribs, and he looked up to see the stewardess staring at him, bewildered. Questor carefully turned a page and concentrated on it. Jerry gave the young woman his brightest, most charming smile. She relaxed, smiled back, and put' down the new stack of material.
"My, we do read a lot, don't we?" she said conversationally.
Questor looked up, eager to open a new subject. "I am delighted we share that predilection, madam. However, I find printed information most inefficient compared to computer data readout when used-"
Jerry interrupted, handing the stewardess the pile of discarded publications, "Miss, could I have a martini, please? As large as regulations permit." He flashed his most dazzling smile again.