The Empty Warrior (45 page)

“I take it this is the kitchen,” O’Keefe said.

“That is correct,” answered the computer.

“So who does the cooking around here, you?”

“Generally speaking, the house automation handles all aspects of food preparation, including purchasing, deliveries, storage, cooking, serving, and cleaning, under my direct supervision, of course,” Seldon answered. “You may, however, elect to prepare you own nourishment if it pleases you to do so. Would you like to do so now?”

“No,” O’Keefe said with another laugh, “I was just wondering.” He wandered out into the large, octagonal room beyond the kitchen. His first sensation upon entering was that the appearance of the carpet belied its feel. It felt as if he had stepped out onto a surface underlaid with thick cushioning. Yet when he sank to his haunches and rubbed the short, ecru fibers between his fingers they felt as coarse as he would have expected from their appearance. He jabbed a single finger into the floor, testing the pad. It did not yield that much more extravagantly to the pressure he applied than any other carpet would have. Yet when he rose and took another step the sensation of sinking into softness remained.

Atop the carpet, the room was populated with soft upholstery of various shapes and sizes. But the pieces all shared the same cinnamon color and the same height and could be positioned to form any number of seating arrangements. Even the tables were upholstered blocks of the same construction, only topped with a light, polished wood that might or might not have been teak. O’Keefe ran his hand over the back of one of the chairs, and it had the feel of velour.

“My God,” he murmured, “it’s the galaxy’s largest pit group.” Then, smiling to himself, he spoke in a louder tone meant for Seldon. “So what’s the story with this stuff, is it still the ’70s here?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, as if the computer was furiously searching its memory banks, before Seldon’s soft voice filled the air. “I am unable to decipher your reference to ‘the ’70s.’ Please restate or clarify, and I will again attempt to answer your query.”

“Never mind. It was a joke.”

“Oh, humor,” Seldon answered in her unchanging, syrupy voice. “I must file that in my mirth folder for future reference.” O’Keefe was unsure whether the machine was simply stating a fact or if it’s programming was sophisticated enough to include irony. The thought made him smile and shake his head in wonder.

“What is this, the living room?” he asked.

“It is the common area,” Seldon replied simply.

“Humph,” O’Keefe grunted, wondering again if the computer was advanced enough to contradict him for spite or whether it just did not understand the concept of a living room. For a moment he considered pointing out the fact that a living room was a common area, but thought better of it, shrugged, and continued his inspection.

Glancing around, he noticed for the first time that the room where he stood was not an equilateral octagon. Instead it had two sets of three walls of equal dimensions flanking him to the left and right, while the two open sides; both to his front and his rear, the rear being the kitchen; were roughly twice the width of the other wall faces. The color of the walls was a uniform tan pigment, but it was such a pastel shade as to be very nearly off white. Each wall also had the outline of one of the nearly invisible automatic doors etched neatly into its right side, while on the solid area of each hung paintings and other artworks—all of them bold, colorful, and abstract—behind glass and held by simple wooden frames that matched the table tops. The open room he faced across the octagon looked to be some kind of entertainment area or media room, but he did not enter it nor question Seldon as to its function.

High above his head, a large circular skylight, about twenty feet in diameter, allowed him to look upward through a second story and into the green roof of the forest beyond. Filtered light from the outside streamed down through it into the dwelling. The skylight was surrounded by white railings on both the second level and what appeared to be the forest floor, but what lay beyond those railings was an unseen mystery from O’Keefe’s vantage point.

“How do I get up there?” he asked.

The answer came immediately as one of the six doors surrounding him soundlessly slid to one side while Seldon spoke. “Through this door and up the stairs to the landing takes you to the second level. However, there is very little to see there save storage, utilities, and environmental handlers. I would suggest that you continue across the landing and climb the second staircase to ground level. I believe you will find it most pleasing.”

“What? I have to walk?” O’Keefe asked facetiously. “Where’s the elevator?”

“There are two; one in the media room and one in Valessanna’s bedroom,” Seldon answered. “You may recall the bedroom has been declared off limits to you. Would you like to use the elevator in the media room?”

“No, I was just playing with you,” O’Keefe said. “I didn’t think there would actually be elevators in here. But I guess I should have known better.” He shuffled across the room and through the open doorway, turning to climb the stairs. Taking Seldon’s advice, he did not pause on the second level but immediately climbed the next staircase. As the level of his eyes crested that of the third story floor, he realized that the uppermost room was much more spacious than the one he had just abandoned. The skylight, seemingly large when viewed from below, took up less than ten percent of the floor space on this level. Around it, stained and highly polished wooden planks radiated from the railing at its edge for about forty feet, forming a circular floor that O’Keefe estimated to be about a hundred feet in diameter. Each board was less than an inch wide where it butted against the ring that enclosed the skylight, but each gradually widened to a width of nearly five inches at the outer edge of the floor.

Arranged over the hardwood flooring were seemingly random jumbles of furniture. There were two L-shaped desks, both fashioned in an angular, contemporary style and constructed of a highly polished wood reminiscent of cherry. Matching adjustable chairs, upholstered in leather, were pushed beneath them. Both workstations were placed in what appeared to be a haphazard fashion on opposite sides of the center skylight. They were topped with black keyboards but there was no sign of a monitor or any structure containing a processor. O’Keefe guessed that they were merely an alternate, perhaps emergency method of interfacing with Seldon. Additionally, each desk was complemented by tall cabinets, made of the same wood, and scattered about close by. Arching floor lamps of burnished brass hung over the work area of both desks. O’Keefe moved one of them about, experimenting, and found that it was counterweighted in some fashion that allowed the fixture to readily remain in whatever position the user placed it. Both desks and their attendant furnishings were underlaid by thick area rugs of navy blue.

In another part of the circle a large, comfortable chaise sat atop a white rug decorated with a complex geometric design the color of chryso-prase. It too sported a brass floor lamp and was flanked by a small table. It appeared to be a place designed for reading.

Besides two large boxes, veneered in dark wood, that were obviously manufactured for the house’s elevators to rise into, the only other furnishings were several groupings of upholstered chairs and settees desultorily scattered about the floor, each with their accompanying tables and lamps, and all of them arranged with no apparent theme or organization. But despite the seeming disorder, the room was enchanting nonetheless as it appeared to sit surrealistically open to the air atop the leaf strewn floor of the forest.

O’Keefe tentatively approached the outer edge of the circle, his arms outstretched like a blind man lost in a maze and attempting to grope his way to freedom. As he neared the periphery of the flooring he touched the side of what he guessed was a transparent enclosure, probably a dome. It had the same quality of slickness that he remembered from the glass at the space port. When he had explored by feel sufficiently to be certain that the wall rose perpendicularly from the ground to a height that would keep it from impacting his head as he approached the edge of the floor, he dropped his arms and gazed out into the forest.

The sun was low enough now that its rays hit the trees at an angle that blocked nearly all of the direct light, but amidst the gloaming there was still much to be observed. Small squirrel-like animals rampaged over the grounds, circling the bases of trees at breakneck speeds, chasing each other either out of playfulness or a desire to defend their territory; O’Keefe could not decide which. Birds flitted to and fro as they visited the feeders that were placed at regular intervals beyond the unseen exterior wall of the house. And there was still, in every direction he looked, the panorama of giant, obviously ancient trees rising toward the heavens. It was such a magnificent and captivating view that O’Keefe found he could not leave it for the confining part of the house below. Instead he crossed to a grouping of chairs that sat close to the edge of the floor and seated himself where he could gaze out into the world around him. The chair, like seemingly everything else Akadean, was a bit small for him, but he found that by stretching his legs out in front of him he could still be quite comfortable.

“Why didn’t I see this when we flew in, this room I mean,” he asked, speaking into the air, confident that Seldon could hear him no matter where he went in the house.

“The outer surface of the dome is currently programmed to resemble the forest floor,” the controller answered. “It is easily discernible from ground level, but difficult to see if one is approaching the house from the angle of the vehicular passage, particularly if the person approaching does not know what to look for or where to look for it. The privacy function can be modified, of course, or even shut down entirely, but only at the behest of a primary user.”

“I take it you maintain the vehicle passage as well?” O’Keefe asked.

“The house robots maintain all aspects of the structure and the grounds, under my direct supervision. This is the second time you have indirectly questioned the maintenance of certain aspects of the household, which is my primary function. Should I endeavor to upgrade my performance capabilities?” The tone of Seldon’s voice never wavered, even though the content of its speech was a response to what it must have considered insults.

“No,” O’Keefe said, “I’ve just never been in a house that could take care of itself. I’m not questioning your abilities; it’s just amazing to me. And you seem to be doing a fine job. I mean, look at the dome here. It’s so clean that it’s invisible to me, and yet the trees must rain stickiness and dirt on it every day.”

“Ordinarily the dome requires no cleaning. It is field protected.”

O’Keefe had only the vaguest of ideas as to exactly what field protection was. And generally speaking he would have been reluctant to admit to his ignorance, but the inanimateness of Seldon was somehow comforting in that regard. He asked for an explanation without a second thought.

“The house is equipped with field generators that cover the dome with an electro-magnetic shield. It is strongest closer to the dome and weaker farther away. It repels any dirt or debris, and cushions any collisions that may occur, thus protecting any fauna that come into contact with the dwelling. If you look to the outer edge of the floor you may observe where the field, although compressed by the earth, pushes the soil away from the dome.”

As Seldon spoke, O’Keefe stood, walked to the edge of the floor to check, and found that he could clearly see that the soil was indeed uniformly parted from the floor around its entire circumference by a little more than an inch.

“Look to your left,” Seldon continued, “and I will arrange a demonstration.”

O’Keefe did as he was instructed and quickly spied a shiny metallic cylinder floating slowly toward him. As it came closer O’Keefe recognized it as the robot he had seen cleaning up the garage in the wake of their arrival. He could see the vacuum attachment still plugged into the side of the machine. The machine began to rise as it approached the edge of the room, keeping above the transparent wall, until it was directly above the center of the skylight. There, a small hatch in the side of the vacuum attachment popped open and the debris that had been collected spilled from it. But before the detritus impacted the dome, it began to slide away from the center and down toward the sides through all three hundred and sixty degrees. In a few moments no trace of the leaves and dirt remained.

The robot, meanwhile, descended to the edge of the dome, very close to the ground, and proceeded to police the area adjacent to the residence. It reversed the vacuum attachment, which now served as a blower, to clear the area of loose bits of the forest that had fallen too close. It also brandished a grappling arm to haul in dead twigs and branches and a small laser to rid the space of any unwanted sprig or root too entrenched to be moved by merely the force of air.

O’Keefe returned to his chair and sat down to once again watch as night began to settle over the forest. Unbidden, a great yawn stretched his jaws widely. The scene before him was so idyllic that it seemed like only moments before darkness had fallen and the only light in the room was that which rose up through the skylight from below. Presently, he heard the voices of Seldon and the captain also drifting up through the opening. The merest scent of perfume wafted past his nostrils. For the first time he realized that the home had up until that point been completely olfactory neutral. It had been utterly without odor or aroma of any kind upon their entry. He heard soft footfalls on the stairway and then the captain’s voice. “Bring up the lamps, Seldon,” she ordered. Immediately every lamp in the room began to emit nascent light, gradually brightening as if unseen hands turned rheostats on each fixture in unison. Shortly, the captain said, “That’s enough,” and the light stabilized.