Out of Phaze (2 page)

“My concern is not of that nature,” she said. “I am an alien, amoebic in nature. I can maintain the human form for ordinary pursuits, but am unable to do so for imbibation. I am concerned that my mode of assimilation would be a social indiscretion in your presence.”

“I will of course leave the booth if you prefer,” Mach said. “But I am scientifically interested in your biology, and I am not subject to annoyance because of differing modes of operation.”

Still she hesitated. “Narda termed it ‘gross,’ I believe that is why she preferred to separate herself from me.”

Androids were notorious for their crudities of behavior and humor. What could Narda have found gross? “Please be reassured, Agape. I am a machine. I have no emotion not programmed, and even those can be evoked or revoked at will. Nothing you might do would dismay me.”

“You are certain?”

“I am certain.”

“Then I shall assimilate this material.”

She put her hands to the container and stretched it wide, so that it gradually reformed into a broad, shallow dish. Mach had known how malleable the material was, as the empty containers were normally compacted into balls and rolled into the recycling hopper, but he had never before seen a person reform one while it was full of fluid.

Now she leaned forward, bringing her head directly over the dish. Her features melted, the nose, eyes, ears and mouth disappearing. Her head receded into her neck, and her breasts lifted to join it, forming a single globular mass above the table. This mass flattened and descended until it covered the full dish. The flesh dipped into the beverage.

In the course of the next few minutes the beverage disappeared, absorbed into the pancake-shaped mass of flesh. The amoeba was assimilating nourishment in the fashion of its kind.

Then the mass lifted, forming another glob. The glob stretched out, narrowing to form the neck, bulging below to fashion breasts, and shaping gradually back into the human features above. The configuration he recognized as Agape returned, features clean, eyes and mouth closed.

The eyes opened, and then the mouth. “Do you wish to depart my presence now?” she asked.

“No. I find your process of assimilation fascinating.”

“It is not gross to you?”

“It is educational to me. I appreciate being shown it.”

She looked at him without further comment. He remembered to resume work on his own drink.

“If I may inquire without offense,” she said, “how is it that you, a machine, have been crafted in human form? I have seen other machines in other forms, suited to their tasks.”

“I am what is known as a humanoid robot. I have been crafted to resemble a living human being as closely as is feasible, in both the physical and mental states. It is part of my father’s effort to integrate the self-willed machines into the society of Proton. If humanoid ones can be successful at this, then the nonhumanoid ones can follow.”

“But do not human beings grow from small creatures formed within the bodies of their parents? Surely you have a maker, not a father.”

“I have a father and a mother,” Mach said firmly. “My father is Citizen Blue, an immigrant from the frame of Phaze. My mother is Sheen, a female robot. It is possible for a female robot to be implanted with a human egg-cell that can be fertilized internally by a human male, and for her to nourish that cell in the laboratory of her body and birth it in the human fashion, becoming a surrogate mother to his child. But Sheen elected not to be modified to accommodate this; she preferred to have a robot baby, like herself. Therefore I am a robot, but my basic programming makes my awareness and intellectual quotient very similar to those of my father.”

“But then you were constructed as an adult, fully formed as you are now.”

“I was crafted as a robot baby, incontinent and untrained. I was adjusted for growth on a weekly basis, trained and educated by hand. Periodically my metal skeletal structure was replaced, and my wiring revamped, but I never changed size or appearance in any large step. In this manner I proceeded in the course of sixteen years to my present size, and thereafter have remained constant. I was put through normal human schooling, along with the androids, cyborgs and human beings of my group. I regard myself as a human being in all except flesh.”

“You are very like a human being,” she agreed. “I did not realize your nature until you advised me. But what is the point of this significant effort?”

“To demonstrate that complete integration of the diverse intelligent elements of our society is feasible,” he replied. “In the past there has been discrimination against robots, cyborgs and androids. In the future all will participate on an equal basis.”

“And perhaps aliens too,” she agreed. “Now the rationale behind my own participation becomes clear, was not informed by my own planetary authorities; was simply given my assignment. Your father is a perceptive being.”

“This is true. But the job is not yet complete, and there is substantial opposition. We must all be careful.”

“Opposition? I did not realize.”

“The majority of Citizens would have preferred retain the prior system, in which only chosen hum beings had power, and only human beings were eligible to compete for Citizenship.”

“You mentioned this before. What is a Citizen?”

“A member of the governing class of Proton. Citizens have enormous power, and the right to wear clothing. We serfs must address any Citizen as ‘sir’ and obey an directive he gives.”

“But I had understood that serfs had opportunity to achieve power. That if I succeeded in accommodating myself to this society, such opportunity would become mine.”

“This is true, but such opportunity is limited. A Citizen can confer an inheritance of his position on a designated heir, the new Citizen to exist when the old Citizen dies or abdicates. It is understood that when my father dies, I will assume his Citizen status, and be perhaps the first robot Citizen. But there is doubt that this will come to pass, because the Council of Citizens may succeed in outlawing such accession. It is also possible for any serf to win Citizenship through the annual Tourney, as I mentioned; this is in effect how Blue obtained his position, though it was actually won by his alternative self.”

“Alternative self? Is this an aspect of human existence?”

Mach smiled. “In a manner. Most residents of Proton have an analog in the sister-frame of Phaze, wherein science is supposed to be inoperative and magic is operative. I find this difficult to credit, but my father claims it is so, and I am not programmed to believe him to be in error. It is at any rate academic, as there is no access to Phaze.”

Agape brightened. “A human myth!” she exclaimed. “A thing known to be untrue, but believed regardless.”

“That seems to be a reasonable view of the matter,” he agreed.

“Do you, a machine, have any desire for the future?”

“None that can be realized.”

“But perhaps a myth? A hope you would possess if it were reasonable?”

“I would desire to be alive,” Mach said.

“Yet you are not, and can never be.”

‘Therefore it is pointless to desire it,” he concluded.

Again she gazed at him in her somewhat disconcertingly alien manner. “I think that I shall now be able to exist in this society. I thank you for your assistance. Perhaps at some point I may be able to render you a similar favor of comprehension.”

“There is no need.”

They stood and left the booth.

“Ha!” a young woman cried, spotting them. She had hair that was almost orange, that flounced about her shoulders as she moved. “So it’s true!”

Mach knew that he was in for a difficult scene. “Doris, allow me to explain—“ he began.

“Shut in a booth with another woman!” she flared. “With the privacy curtain in place! I don’t need any explanation for that!”

“But we weren’t doing anything,” he protested. “Agape required assistance—“

“I can guess what kind!” Doris cried, eying Agape’s torso. “Just couldn’t wait to get your hands on some alien flesh, could you!”

“I do not understand,” Agape said. “Have I committed an error of protocol?”

“Protocol!” Doris said. “Is that what you call it? Melting in his arms?”

“She didn’t—“ Mach began.

“I did melt,” Agape agreed. “But not for his arms.”

“Don’t tell me for what part of him you melted!” Doris cried. She whirled to confront Mach. “And I thought I was your girl! You’re just like any other male! The moment you see a chance to grab something new—“

“You misunderstand—“ Mach said.

“Not anymore! You and I are through!”

“Please listen,” Mach said, reaching out to her. “I never—“

Doris stepped in and slapped him resoundingly on the cheek. “Don’t lie to me, metal-heart!”

By this time a small crowd had gathered to admire the proceedings. One young man stepped up. “Is this machine bothering you, Doris?”

“Stay out of this, Ware!” Mach snapped, allowing his emotional circuits to govern in the human manner. Ware was an android, and Mach had had enough android-sponsored trouble for this day.

“Yeah? Make me!”

Doris’ gaze passed from one to the other appraisingly. She was a cyborg, and by all accounts there were ghosts in those machines. A person could never be quite certain what a cyborg would do. “Yes, why don’t you make him?” she asked Mach.

She was trying to promote a combat between them! Mach had to head that off, in the interest of species harmony; he knew how his father would react to any such episode.

“The Game,” Mach said. “We’ll settle this in the Game.”

Ware laughed coarsely. “The Game? Why should I bother? Why not just settle it right here?”

Naturally the android didn’t care what kind of a scene he made; he had nothing to lose, and perhaps a lot to gain. He had no chance at future Citizenship, because he wasn’t the son of a Citizen or an expert Gamesman himself, but he could interfere with Mach’s chance— for himself and his kind.

“For a prize,” Mach said. ‘To make it worthwhile.”

“What worthwhile prize could you have to offer? You’re just a serf, like me!”

Doris smiled. “I’ll be the prize,” she said. “Winner gets my favor.”

“No—“ Mach began.

But Ware’s eyes were lighting. He had always had a hankering for Doris, but until this moment she had not given him any positive signal. “Good enough! For Doris!” he agreed.

“Can a person be a trophy?” Agape asked, perplexed.

“Why not?” Doris asked with satisfaction. “You were!”

Mach wished he had the circuitry for a human sigh. He would have to put his relationship with Doris, which had been generally a good one, on the line. She was angry with him for insufficient cause, but had found a way to hurt him. He would have to go through with it.

They went to the Game Annex. They stood at opposite grid stations and touched their choices. Mach had the numbers, so selected 2. MENTAL, to nullify the android’s advantage of temporary strength and throw it into the android’s weakness of intellect. Ware selected B. TOOL, throwing it into the huge general category of tool-assisted mental games. Mach was strong here, so his prospects were brightening.

The subgrid for this category differed from that for the physical games. Mach had the numbers again: 5. SEPARATE, 6. INTERACTIVE, 7. PUZZLE, 8. COOPERATIVE. Ware had the letters: E. BOARD, F. CARDS, G. PAPER, H. GENERAL.

Mach chose 7. PUZZLE, trusting that his wit was quicker than the android’s. Ware chose H. GENERAL, which broadened the range of choices.

They filled in the sub-subgrid with various types of mechanical puzzles: jigsaw, matches, string, knots, cube assembly, Ruble cube and a labyrinth. When the final choices were paired, the result was the labyrinth. Well, Mach should be able to solve that faster than the android could.

“Hey, didn’t you run that one this morning, Ware?” a bystander called.

“Yeah,” Ware replied, satisfied.

Oh-oh. The format of the labyrinth was changed on a daily basis. A player never could know which variant or detail it would have—unless that player had experienced it on the same day. Ware had gotten a major break.

Or had he made his own break, knowing that Mach preferred mental or tool-assisted games, and liked puzzles? Had he somehow planned for this encounter? If so, he was smarter or more determined than Mach had credited.

Still, Mach had run the labyrinth many times, and was familiar with most of its variants. He might not be at as great a disadvantage as he feared. There were interactive properties that could nullify advance knowledge.

They adjourned to the labyrinth chamber. This time it was set up in the form of a huge circle with three entrances. Doris was designated the Damsel in Distress, and Mach was the Rescuing Hero, and Ware was the Monster. Mach’s object was to find and rescue the Damsel before the Monster found her and dragged her away to his lair. If Mach could bring her out his entrance, he would be the victor; if Ware brought her out his, he was. The Damsel was required to go with whomever touched her first. In a double sense, Mach realized.

He had kept company with her because, as a cyborg, she had the body of a robot and the mind of a human being. She had originally been human, but an accident to her body had rendered it inoperable, so her brain had been transplanted to the machine, where it was maintained in a bath of nutrients and connected to the machine’s perceptive and operating units. Such mergers had always been problematical, for no human brain could align perfectly with anything other than a human body, but as cyborgs went she had been more sensible than most. She had been given the finest of bodies, which she delighted to use for every purpose, and because she