The City And The Stars - Arthur C. Clarke [65]
Alvin realised that he would have to act quickly, or his opportunity would be gone—perhaps only for a few years, perhaps for centuries.
‘What have you decided?’ he said eagerly. ‘Is the robot coming with us?
There was an agonising pause while the polyp tried to force its dissolving body to obey its will. The speech-diaphragm fluttered, but no audible sound came from it. Then, as if in a despairing gesture of farewell, it waved its delicate palps feebly and let them fall back into the water, where they promptly broke adrift and went floating out into the lake. In a matter of minutes, the transformation was over. Nothing of the creature larger than an inch across remained. The water was full of tiny, greenish specks which seemed to have a life and mobility of their own, and which rapidly disappeared into the vastness of the lake.
The ripples on the surface had now altogether died away, and Alvin knew that the steady pulse-beat that had sounded in the depths would now be stilled. The lake was dead again—or so it seemed. But that was an illusion; one day the unknown forces that had never failed to do their duty in the past would exert themselves again, and the polyp would be reborn. It was a strange and wonderful phenomenon, yet was it so much stranger than the organisation of the human body, itself a vast colony of separate, living cells?
Alvin wasted little effort on such speculations. He was oppressed by his sense of failure, even though he had never clearly conceived the goal he was aiming for. A dazzling opportunity had been missed, and might never again return. He stared sadly out across the lake, and it was some time before his mind registered the message which Hilvar was speaking quietly in his ear.
‘Alvin,’ his friend said softly. ‘I think you have won your point.’
He spun swiftly on his heels. The robot, which until now had been floating aloofly in the distance, never approaching within twenty feet of them, had moved up in silence and was now poised a yard above his head. Its unmoving eyes, with their wide angle of vision, gave no indication of its direction of interest. Probably it saw the entire hemisphere in front of it with equal clarity, but Alvin had little doubt that its attention was now focused upon him.
It was waiting for his next move. To some extent, at least, it was now under his control. It might follow him to Lys, perhaps even to Diaspar—unless it changed its mind. Until then he was its probationary master.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE JOURNEY BACK to Airlee lasted almost three days—partly because Alvin, for his own reasons, was in no hurry to return. The physical exploration of Lys had now taken second place to a more important and exciting project; he was slowly making contact with the strange, obsessed intelligence which had now become his companion.
He suspected that the robot was trying to use him for its own purposes, which would be no more than poetic justice. What its motives were he could never be quite certain, since it still stubbornly refused to speak to him. For some reason of his own—perhaps fear that it might reveal too many of his secrets—the Master must have placed very efficient blocks upon its speech circuits, and Alvin’s attempts to clear them were completely unsuccessful. Even indirect questioning of the ‘If you say nothing I shall assume you mean “Yes”’ type failed; the robot was much too intelligent to be taken in by such simple tricks.
In other respects, however, it was more co-operative. It would obey orders which did not require it to speak or reveal information. After a while Alvin found that he could control it, as he could direct the robots in Diaspar, by thought alone. This was a great step forward, and a little later the creature—it was hard to think of it as a mere machine—relaxed its guard still further and allowed him to