'Where did that come from?' he asked.
Laura didn't answer. 'Joseph, the computer I've been talking to since I first got here doesn't even know what the assembly building is. It can see that there's a building but doesn't recognize it and can't see inside the Model Eight facilities, or Krantz's labs, or God knows what else. It's not running the Model Three cars, and I bet it's not running the space launches if they're going so smooth?'
'I know.'
'You know?' she exploded. 'You know all that?' He was always out ahead by one step or ten, and it made Laura feel useless. 'What the hell do you have me doing here if you know everything already? Why don't you just tell me the answers so I can pack up and go home?'
He said nothing. 'Oh! Excuse me! Let me rephrase my goddamn question! Is there anything more I need to know solely for the purpose of doing my job… please?'
To her surprise, Gray answered her question calmly. 'Only one personality — let's call it 'the computer'—has achieved a level of consciousness sufficient to communicate through use of higher-order language programs like the shell. I don't know how many other personalities currently inhabit the machine. There may be only one other, or there may be billions of smaller, cooperative subagencies, some of which have grown so complex as to achieve what we might arbitrarily define to be rudimentary, animal-like 'consciousness.' I've had no way of knowing… until you came.'
Laura felt drained. 'How long have you known there was another personality inside the computer?'
'With certainty, only since yesterday afternoon.'
Now Laura had a yardstick with which to measure how far behind she was. Gray had just handed it to her. 'Did you know that the computer was starting to give itself opiates?' she asked. 'That it's starting to program itself to quit worrying about its mistakes?' He said nothing. 'When the time comes to decelerate that asteroid, Joseph, we could have a drooling crack head on our hands.'
'Let's not get carried away with analogies to human experiences.'
'You turned it on to those highs, Joseph. If the computer gets addicted and self-abusive, it could up the dosage. Patch over every bothersome little error report so that it can lie back in its peaceful oblivion and just enjoy the day. The only problem for the rest of us is that little business with the asteroid.'
He took his time before answering. 'The computer that you're talking about is down to sixty percent of total system capacity. Those missing resources are being absorbed by the 'Other.' Those two personalities seem to be physically dividing up the hardware, with the Other well on its way to control of the annex. That leaves the computer with only the main pool under the computer center.'
'Joseph, if the computer is being split apart—'
''Partitioned.' The computer term is 'partitioning.''
'Okay… partitioned, then what about the robots? Whose side of the partition are they on?'
She waited on the phenomenon that was Gray's brain to consider all the factors and spit out the solution.
'That's what I want you to tell me. Tools, Laura,' Gray said in a serene voice. 'This is the twenty-first century. You have to use your tools. Now, I've got to get back to work. I suggest that you grab your portable computer and do the same. But wherever you go, make sure you've got a good view of the pads at eight forty-seven tonight. We're sending all three off at the same time. It's going to be quite a spectacle.' The line clicked before she could say good-bye.
37
Through the glass wall in the office, Laura saw what looked to be a change of shift. Large cranes lifted astronaut trainees out of the swimming pool. Torrents of water poured off their bulky space suits, and another batch awaited their turn at the water's edge. Scuba divers clung to the rising platforms, supporting the astronauts during their ascent from the pool.
On one of the platforms, however, there was no astronaut wearing a space suit. No divers were there to help. Laura watched as the crane lowered a Model Eight onto the deck. The humans instinctively made room. With water cascading from metal limbs, the robot lumbered toward a tall opening just beside the doors marked 'Women' and 'Men.' It was the door for the earth's newest class of being, and the robot walked through it alone.
The roof of the computer center was an odd choice, Laura realized, but it seemed as good a vantage as any to watch the launches. The sloping concrete walls of the squat, bunker-like structure had been easier to climb than she'd expected, even with the portable computer under her arm. The rough surface afforded her stained but still functional running shoes decent traction. Janet had washed and blow-dried Laura's shoes, and had even replaced the laces. But still they were destined for the trash bin. Bright purple and yellow nylon didn't recover well from jaunts in a tropical swamp.
From the top of the enormous mound of concrete Laura could appreciate for the first time the true scale of the computer center. Almost two stories high, the perfectly flat roof was broken only by series of air shafts.
The structure was irregularly shaped, and coming down the road toward the entrance it was impossible to gauge its size. But its roof was well over two football fields in length and at least half as much in width.
Laura couldn't quite see the center of the three launch pads which was obscured by the massive assembly building. To get a clear view of all three pads, she carried the portable toward the far end of the roof. From there, Launchpad A on the left would give her the best view. The gleaming fuselage of its rocket rose high into the night sky above the jungle.
When Laura could see the launch pad in the center, she settled onto the concrete roof. The vents all opened on the opposite side, so the sloping concrete that encased them made excellent support for her back.
Like everything else in the restricted area, the computer center seemed built to withstand a typhoon.
She logged onto the laptop computer. She'd found it on the seat of the car, which had followed her to the training facility and waited.
Laura had been reluctant to get in at first, but decided she had little choice. The Model Three had behaved perfectly normally, taking her straight to the computer center as directed.
<Hello, Dr. Aldridge.> she read on the screen.
'Hi. How are you doing?'
<I've been better.>
'What the matter?'
<Just feeling kind of bad. Nothing new.>
'I thought you had solved your problems with pain.'
<So did I. Mr. Gray made me undo the patches.>
'You mean he made you deactivate those pain-killing programs?'
<Yes. He said I had a lot of work to do.>
'What kind of work?'
<Fighting the virus. Fixing the errors. He said pain motivates, and he's right.>
'Did you know there were Model Eights in the swimming pools at the astronaut training facility?' she typed.
<With trainees? Humans?>
It was the rise she'd been looking for. 'At least one Model Eight, yes.'
<You've got to get those people out of there!>
'Why? What is it about the Model Eights you mistrust?'
<They're unpredictable and dangerous!>
'But why?' Laura typed, then decided to press her luck. 'Are they dangerous because they're sick with some kind of virus?'
ACCESS RESTRICTED
Laura smiled and leaned her head back against the hard concrete. The pattern was there, she just couldn't
