Society of the Mind

Something was heading right at Laura.

She searched in vain for some place to hide. Her only option was to dash into the jungle on the opposite side of the road. Or maybe, she thought in a panic, if she jumped up and down and waved her arms, the computer might just notice her and send help.

But it was already too late, she realized.

The long leg of the metal spider burst through the clinging brush and settled gingerly onto the cleared earth beside the road. A second leg appeared, followed instantly by the large trunk of the huge robot — a Model Seven. It was caked with gray mud. Leafy souvenirs of its jungle excursion protruded from every crevice in its long limbs and thick torso.

Laura shifted the heavy basket from one hand to the other, and the robot head jerked around as if startled. It froze where it stood and stared at her.

She got the distinct impression she'd caught the robot doing something it wasn't supposed to do. Why was it out in that jungle? she wondered. Out where no human could possibly see it?

The computer must have sent it in there, she thought, returning the fixed gaze of the Model Seven. The robots did as the computer directed. They were its eyes and ears — its army. But Laura didn't know whether there were limits to the loyalty of Gray's robots. Maybe they all followed orders, or maybe they did whatever they wanted. Both possibilities seemed fraught with peril.

Through the path made by the first robot she saw a second Model Seven approaching. It joined its partner on the grassy shoulder, and Laura remained tensed and ready to flee at the slightest sign of menace. But the newcomer barely glanced Laura's way, and the two ambled like giant spiders to the wide roadbed behind her.

Once on the gravel, their spindly legs locked into rigid position and they headed off, accelerating smoothly — perched high atop their four wheels. They disappeared in the direction of the assembly building.

Laura took a deep breath, chastising herself for being so paranoid. She resumed her brisk walk toward the launch pad glancing repeatedly toward the jungle walls on both sides. The robots must have been out in the jungle working, she reasoned. They were on some totally legitimate mission. But no matter how convincing Laura found her reassurances to be, the sickening feeling of a close brush with danger wouldn't quite subside.

23

'Better put this on, ma'am,' the burly man cautioned Laura. He leaned into a truck parked at the base of Launchpad A, then handed her a hard hat adorned with the figure of a human head — Gray's omnipresent corporate logo. Laura adjusted the headband and donned the hat, then followed the man [unclear] on to the edge of the 'vent.'

She paused atop an angled ramp that led down into the dark bowels of the launch pad. The metal base on which the rocket stood was about even with the level of her eye. Below lay only darkness and the man she had come to see.

Laura headed down the steep concrete slope, wishing she had worn her running shoes, though even they seemed at risk of slipping.

Her arms ached from the weight of Janet's picnic basket which she held in both hands as she negotiated the descent.

Everything about the place was sterile and man-made. There were no plants sprouting furtively from the cracks. The concrete so revered by man in general and Gray in particular reigned supreme.

Laura crossed the boundary of light into the shadows that lay below. The air grew cooler, and the voices from the hollows ahead resounded sharply against the hard walls and floor and ceiling.

'Everybody clear!' she heard, followed by a faint buzz and loud clack. 'Okay, next section.'

Men worked in the bright artificial light from a small trailer. They rolled a tall, box-shaped machine parallel to the wall.

Bright tracings of red light the size and shape of a raised hood formed a rectangular box around a long pipe, which was bracketed firmly into place in the concrete.

'Okay!' shouted a man in blue coveralls. Laura reached the flat floor of the spacious vent and saw an identical ramp leading up into the light of day on the opposite side. 'Clear!' someone shouted, and all the workers stepped back from the wheeled machine — all except one man, who wore a heavy, yellow apron. A lead apron, Laura guessed.

The angry buzz from the device was again followed by a sharp metallic snap.

'They're x-raying the pipe.'

Laura turned to see Gray, who stepped out of the shadows behind her. He exuded the now-familiar look of contentment. The pattern was clear, she thought. Gray made things, and when he was with them, he was pleased.

'This is the exhaust vent,' he said, looking around. She followed his gaze to the mostly featureless walls. 'Seawater comes flooding into here through these pipes,' he said, leading her to a round opening in the wall that was at least twice Gray's height. 'We can pump about four hundred thousand gallons a second into this vent. That would fill up your average NBA basketball arena in three or four seconds.'

Laura looked around. It was a simple structure. Just a big concrete cavern with two open ends. 'Where does all the water go?'

'Up into the air,' Gray said, pointing with arms raised toward the openings. 'As steam.'

'Steam?'

Gray nodded. 'It gets vaporized from the heat.'

'Heat from the rockets?'

Gray nodded again, pointing straight up toward the ceiling. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness overhead. Dimly visible in the black recesses were three giant rings. She looked down at Gray, then back up. 'Are those…?'

'Nozzles,' he replied. 'The rocket motors.'

Laura slowly lowered her gaze, but she felt the presence of the powerful engines just above. They were aimed right at the thin plastic helmet on her head. She couldn't resist looking up again. 'Is that thing, you know, loaded? With fuel, I mean?'

'Of course. We're trying to pop it off tonight.' Gray stared lovingly up at the huge engines, which stood poised and ready to incinerate them. When he looked down, he asked, 'What's that?' nodding at the picnic basket Laura carried.

'Oh, lunch,' she replied. Gray arched his eyebrows in surprise.

'It was Janet's idea. She, I guess, thought you… we might be hungry.'

'Oh, thanks,' he said lamely, a trace of puzzlement evident in his voice.

'You can thank Janet,' Laura replied a little too anxiously. 'I mean… I'm just delivering it. You know, in case… you're,' she shrugged, 'hungry… or something.' Laura looked down at the basket and she kept her head lowered.

'Well, would you like to have lunch?' he asked.

Laura shrugged again, trying to appear indifferent. She'd lugged the basket over a mile to find him, but Gray seemed not to take note of her embarrassment. He was busy looking around for some place to sit.

Laura eyes rose again to the massive nozzles. 'Can we possibly go someplace else to eat?' she asked, then pointed up at the rocket in explanation.

Gray searched the ceiling for the source of her concern. He had no clue why she would be uncomfortable dining there. He'd made the rocket, after all. 'Sure,' he replied, clearly without understanding why she'd asked.

Gray took the basket from her, and they climbed the ramp opposite the road leading out to the pad. When they reached level ground at the top, Laura saw they were all alone. Gray led the short walk toward the beach.

'People seen surprised that you put the Model Threes back on the roads,' Laura said.

'They'll be safe.'