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

Darro nodded briefly. "Quite right. I've just come from meeting with the project scientists. After reviewing all of our information and options, we've decided that the most practical use of the android will come only if we disassemble it."
"Disassemble it? But . . . you can't order that!"
Jerry was aware Darro watched him critically, but he couldn't contain the surprise, the anguish that burst from him. There was too much of his life bound up in the building of the android. The successful completion of the Questor Project was as important to him as breathing. He tried a new tack. "You pulled those scientists off me only two hours ago. Now you're saying you've approved the destruction of the entire project."
"I pulled them off you, as you put it, because I will not have that kind of double dealing in any operation I head.
25
Disassembling the android does not destroy the project, Robinson. The participating nations will still get a rich return on their investment, won't they? Its so-called stomach, for example-a nuclear furnace that was believed impossible. But it works, and I represent five nations that are very anxious to take it apart and find out how it works. And other parts of it, too . . . turbine pumps the size of match heads, electrical circuitry using gas vapor-"
Jerry interrupted desperately, "But a functioning android, Darro. It could change the shape of this whole world! The space program, undersea exploration. It could change industry, agriculture ..."
"An excellent summary of its socioeconomic implications, Robinson. Especially from a man who calls himself 'simply a gifted mechanic.' "
"That's what I am."
Darro pushed out of the chair quickly, impatiently. "We have a full dossier on you. Every IQ test you've taken since you were in high school indicates the same thinggenius-level intelligence."
Jerry sat down automatically, staring at Darro. The project chief turned away from him and opened the window. The action seemed meaningless until Jerry realized that Darro was studying the ornate grillwork on the window-the bars of his prison. "Hey, look . . ." Jerry started.
"That is true, isn't it? Or are you labeling all those tests a He?"
The young engineer relaxed in the chair and found a laugh. "Me, a genius? Sorry. Darro, that was just a fluke. I do well on IQ tests because I'm a puzzle solver." He tapped his head. "Some twist up here gets a kick out of intricate things."
"Like androids which should work, but don't."
"You sound like you think someone's going to the lab tonight, push some button on it and say, 'Follow me.' " He shook his head, chuckling at the ridiculous image. Darro slammed the window, and Jerry's smile faded when Darro turned, his face grim and set.
26
"Not entirely impossible, Mr. Robinson. Is it?" "Even if it was, why would I want it?" Jerry got to his feet angrily, pushing in at the unmoving project chief. "To play chess with? To hold for ransom? Follow me where?" "Perhaps to a man who has been presumed dead even though a body has never been found."
Jerry stared at him, his mouth open. Finally he managed to pull himself together from the shock of the suggestion. "Vaslovik?"
"He may have found a five-nation combine an attractive idea. Ample funds and the world's top scientists doing the job his own organization couldn't complete."
"His organization? Darro, Vaslovik was a scientist of the highest caliber-but his 'organization' consisted of about fifty people who built from his designs. Research and development was done by him . . . only him."
"My point exactly," Darro said. "You don't know where he is?"
"Darro, if you don't, I certainly don't."
The project chief studied Jerry, the hard blue eyes cutting him into little sections and examining each one. Finally he twitched his mouth in that odd half smile. "You're one of two things, Robinson-either a remarkably shrewd, able man acting a part, or a very foolish man who doesn't recognize his own potential." He stepped to the door and opened it. Jerry could see the armed security guard still standing there. "Mr. Robinson is not to have visitors or leave his quarters except at my orders."
"Yes, sir." The guard did not question the change in Jerry's status. No one questioned Darro.
Darro glanced back at Jerry. "Good night, Mr. Robinson."
Jerry nodded weakly and watched Darro leave the room. The security guard reached in and pulled the door closed. The lock clicked from outside. Jerry slumped into a chair, head in his hands, wondering exactly what had happened. He was under guard and under suspicion of being some kind of saboteur, or at least potentially one. It only Vaslovik were alive. If only the android had functioned. ...
4
The android, Questor, had opened every locker in the changing room. He had been built to resemble an averagesize man, but his search for clothing had revealed the singular scarcity of average-size men in the group of scientists and technicians. He had disregarded underwear, not comprehending any need for it. A technician's striped sport shirt was tucked into a beltless pair of old chinos Dr. Chen sometimes wore. Dr. Michaels' locker had yielded a tweed jacket. Questor had found a pair of white socks stuffed into tennis shoes. The sneakers did not fit, but a pair of black shoes from another locker did. Sufficiently garbed, Questor stepped to a mirror. He tilted his head slightly to the right, surveying the image reflected in the glass.
He saw what appeared to be a blond, blue-eyed, faircomplexioned man in his thirties. The face that had been designed for him was attractive, but with enough flaws to be interesting. The clothing fit well enough. He saw no need for a tie and no incongruity in the white wool socks and black shoes. He turned away.
A red light gleamed beside the emergency exit to the security lab. The door was not normally used, but was linked into the alarm system. Questor studied it briefly, then reached out and pressed the glowing red plate. The light went off. The door did not open, and Questor turned his attention to it. The only projection was the doorknob. Questor pulled at it, and the knob came away in his hand. He bent to examine the hole left in the door, using his infrared capability to scan the dark interior. He understood his mistake then and would not make it again.
27
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Questor straightened and scanned the door frame. A steel molding ran around it, preventing the insertion of anything between the frame and the door. Questor reached up, his fingertips carefully gripping the edge of the molding, and pulled it away from the wall. Effortlessly, his expression as untroubled as a statue's, he stripped the molding from the entire door. Then he slipped his fingers hi the half-inch clearance on top and yanked the door from the frame. He neatly set it aside, and left.
The side door was a thick, heavy metal fire-and-security panel with a stout locking bolt. Questor paused as he heard the footsteps of the patrolling guard outside. As soon as the guard was well past, Questor bent aside the thick locking bolt and eased open the door.
His hearing mechanism amplified the guard's footsteps as the man walked along the front of the building. Questor set off across the grass at an oblique angle, reaching the sidewalk a slight distance from the lab. He noticed the difference in texture as he stepped from the grass to the cement, and paused for a moment to catalog the information. Then he set off in a direction that would take him past the front of the Project Questor laboratory.
The guard posted at the entrance looked at him without curiosity. Questor strode along ramrod straight, but with enough ease to draw a courteous nod from the guard. Questor logged the motion in a split second and nodded back. The guard seemed satisfied and looked away.
Questor angled off the sidewalk as soon as he was out of sight of the laboratory. He stopped under a stand of trees to get his bearings, and became aware of the soft undercurrent of night noises. A cricket chirped, a car purred along one of the dormitory driveways in the distance, the wind gently fluttered leaves overhead. Questor amplified his hearing and picked up the low murmur of two voices, a man's and a woman's. His eyes automatically tracked to the source.
A pair of students strolled along a walk some distance from him. They had their arms around each other, and Questor could hear the girl's low laugh. "What'll they say if they find me in your room?"

29
"We can say we're studying."
"They won't believe that."
"Why do we have to say anything?"
"You always have to say something."
The conversation meant nothing to Questor. He turned away, scanning the campus for the building he wanted, and located it two blocks away. He moved away from the tall trees and found his path blocked by a flower bed. Night-blooming jasmine scented the air, and he traced the fragrance to the flowers. His fingers stroked the delicate blossoms lightly, and he cataloged them.
As he walked around the wide flower bed and emerged on the lawn again, something made him look. up. It was one of those rare, marvelously clear nights in southern California, and the whole glittering panorama of stars was laid out across the sky. Questor stood for a long moment, staring up, his eyes sweeping from quadrant to quadrant, studying them all. For the first tune a trace of expression moved his face-the faint knitting of his brows, as if something puzzled him. Something he could not catalog. It was not the location of the stars. Their positions as seen from every point on earth had been programmed into him. It was something else, something undefined that had not been programmed but was a part of him anyway.
A rustling in the shrubbery behind him swiftly drew his attention back to his immediate surroundings. A large black and tan animal confronted him, ears laid back, a low growl rumbling in its throat. Questor tilted his head slightly to the right, trying to classify it. Part of his programming was jumbled and contained gaps. This was one of them.
"Good ev-e-ning," Questor said. His voice was flat, expressionless, the words disjointed.
The Doberman stopped growling and backed up a pace, confused by the android's strange voice. His nose quivered slightly and he took another step back, beginning to whine.
"Good ev-e-ning," Questor said again.