Society of the Mind

All now sat on the floor as if exhausted. Or maybe depressed by the events of the day, Laura thought. But the [garbled] maybe their batteries are just low.

One of the Model Eights turned and pressed its palm flat against the white concrete where its back had rested.

'What's that Goose is playing with?' Laura heard Gray ask.

'C4,' Hoblenz said with a chuckle. 'I'd pay cash money to stick around till he plugs in for recharging.'

'Clean it off him,' Gray directed.

'Do what?' Hoblenz shot back — incredulous.

'There are some paper towels in the cafeteria. Clean his grippers off.'

Hoblenz shook his head in disbelief, but shouted the orders to his men.

Laura suddenly felt a distinct vibration through the floor. The sensation radiated up through the soles of her feet. Everyone felt it.

In the room below, the robots struggled to their feet and stood facing the far wall. They lined up as if awaiting the arrival of a firing squad.

The white concrete on the wall where the toddler had pressed its palm began to crack. It fell to the floor in large chunks. Although held together by reinforcing rods, the wall was no match for the massive bore. Turning slowly, it pushed into the room and dropped a huge quantity of black rock onto the floor.

'I think we've got a jailbreak here, Sheriff,' Hoblenz said, taking in the scene from beside Laura.

'They're not breaking out,' Gray replied. 'They're breaking in.'

Laura watched transfixed as the first of the Model Eights squeezed through the gaping black hole. After several robots made it through, they dragged behind them the first of the wounded.

One of the new arrivals walked up to Auguste, who opened a plate on his chest. Auguste plugged the ribbon- like communications cable into the data port of the newly arrived Model Eight.

'Now why are those two doin' that?' Hoblenz asked. 'I thought they used microwaves like ESP and just beamed their thoughts out.'

'Not their private thoughts,' Laura said.

The cable was returned to its compartment, and the two panels on their chests were closed.

'Uh, sir,' Hoblenz said, fidgeting and looking around at the exits, 'this is fascinatin' and all but I count almost a dozen of 'em through that hole already. Some of 'em have battle damage. These mothers have seen some action, so I vote we skedaddle while the skedaddlin' is good.'

A pair of Model Eights from among the recent arrivals walked up to a toddler standing against the wall. After a momentary pause, the toddler marched toward the door — its two escorts walking behind. The scene was repeated, and off went another toddler. 'I agree,' Gray said, looking at his watch.

'Wait!' Laura blurted out. 'Something's going on down there. We should stay and see what happens!'

Hoblenz took an extra ammunition belt from his shoulder and draped it over Laura's. 'Here ya go. I'll leave you my grenades, too, if you want.'

Laura brushed the heavy weight from her shoulder. 'Joseph, they're exhibiting highly complex group behavior. They seem to be formulating codes of conduct. They've developed cliques or clans or castes of some sort.'

'Laura, I know all that.'

Laura felt her blood pressure rise, and Hoblenz laughed at the look on her face. She ground her teeth and stormed away, stopping in front of the middle observation window — the one overlooking the chair.

'Get your men back to the elevator, Mr. Hoblenz,' Gray said.

'Vamonos, muchachos!' Hoblenz barked to his men, and they were gone.

Laura turned back to the window again, alone with Gray. She hugged her arms around herself and gazed down at the darkened room.

'Do you know everything?' she asked quietly. 'Because if you do, Joseph, you're playing a very dangerous game not trusting the people around you enough to tell them. And it's a game that could get a whole lot more people killed than just those two soldiers.'

Gray remained at the far window. 'I don't know everything, Laura.'

'Do you know what's going on with the Model Eights?' He sighed.

'Yes, pretty much. They're not evil like Hoblenz thinks. Certainly not the toddlers. They can kill a man but they can't do it intentionally. Those younger Model Eights simply don't know any better. They're two-year-olds in a ten- foot metal body.'

Movement in the red-lit recharging room below attracted Laura's attention. A Model Eight entered, pulling a second robot behind it.

It was a toddler from the tactile room, she felt sure.

'Joseph,' she called out as the reluctant captive was ushered to the, chair.

'Like all societies, Laura, they have rules — laws. But theirs is a new society, and their laws are more primitive than our own.'

'Joseph, they're putting one of the toddlers into the chair.'

'Primitive laws are always harsher than the laws developed by more civilized societies, but I'm somewhat responsible for what resulted. I gave them a few guiding principles. I viewed them simply as operating rules, but they took them as a religion of sorts. The main tenet of that religion was, 'Thou shalt not harm a human.'' The toddler was now struggling mightily against the strong arms of the two older Model Eights. They succeeded in forcing him down into the chair, but the toddler arched its back and half slid to the floor. Just when the toddler almost got free, the wrist restraints were clamped down. It was at their mercy now, and they proceeded to bind the young robot bracket by bracket.

'Joseph, come here!' The toddler's legs were clamped tightly, and the helmet was lowered onto its head. It was thrashing every available motor, but the resistance did it no good. Laura turned to look at Gray. He still stood in his spot several yards away. He could see nothing of what was happening in the room below. 'Quick! Come here!'

He had a look of anguish on his face. 'It killed one of those soldiers, Laura.'

'You've got to stop them! It's just a child!' Laura turned to watch the toddler. It was strapped into the chair, still squirming and struggling against the restraints despite the hopelessness of the effort. It was all alone in the room now. The fingers of its two immobilized hands flexed and gripped and flexed, over and over. Tears flooded Laura's eyes.

'It broke the law, Laura. It broke the law.'

After one violent spasm the toddler fell limp. The door opened, and two Model Eights extracted the lifeless robot from the chair.

Laura stared down with blurry vision. Another toddler was brought into the room. This one cooperated completely with the older Model Eights, the authority figures in its world.

It was too awful to watch, and she walked over to Gray with tears streaming down her cheeks. Gray spoke softly. 'They didn't break my law, Laura. They broke their own law, and their sentences are harsh.'

Laura wiped the tears from her face and looked away from Gray. In the tactile room below, three adult Model Eights were cabled up to one another. The scars of battle were creased deeply into their smooth skin. When they had finished their conference, they walked over to stand in front of the robot seated by the open door.

Auguste lowered his hand from his chin and rose to his feet. His time had come, and he marched out of the room to the chair.

45

Laura and Gray were silent on their ride down the mountain to the computer center. She was too shaken by events to talk, and Gray seemed too preoccupied with his thoughts.

When they reached the computer center, Gray did the unexpected. He called a meeting and said, 'I want to fill everybody in on our Model Eight program.'

Surprised looks were exchanged, but all listened in rapt attention as he proceeded. Gray began with the design and manufacture of the robots, practically unaided by human hands, and concluded with the executions that