“Yes.”
“And
“I do.”
“But you didn’t think a robot would, right?”
“Right.”
“That a ‘yes’ answer would have been a dead give-away?”
“Exactly.”
“But even a robot can believe in God,” said Pirx after a moment’s pause, with a nonchalance that made Brown’s eyes bulge.
“Come again?”
“You think not?”
“It never crossed my mind…”
“OK, let’s skip it. At least for now. You said something about having your suspicions…”
“The dark-haired one—Burns—I’m sure he’s not human.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Little things, hard to pinpoint, but they add up. For one thing, when he sits or stands, he doesn’t move a muscle. A regular statue. And you know how hard it is for a human to keep still: you’re uncomfortable, your leg goes to sleep so you shift positions, you stretch, rub your face… But this guy just plain freezes!”
“All the time?”
“That’s just it; not all the time. And that seems to me the tip-off.”
“Why tip-off?”
“My guess is that when he remembers, he’s all fidgets and bodily motion; but when he forgets, he freezes. With us, it’s the other way around: we have to make a conscious effort to keep still.”
“You have a point there. What else?”
“He eats everything.”
“How so?”
“Whatever comes along. It makes no difference to him. I noticed it on our flight across the Atlantic. Even back in the States, and at the airport restaurant—eats whatever he’s served, indiscriminately. I mean, everyone has his likes and dislikes!”
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“You’re quite right—it doesn’t. But in combination with the stiffness…? And another thing.”
“Yes?”
“He doesn’t write letters. I’m not a hundred percent sure of that … but Burton, now, I saw him drop a letter into the hotel mailbox.”
“Writing letters is against regs?”
“Yes.”
“You’re all extremely conscientious, I see,” muttered Pirx. He sat up on his bunk and, breathing practically into Brown’s face, said in a deliberate tone:
“You broke your oath. Why?”
“Ouch, that hurt, Commander!”
“Well, didn’t you swear to keep your identity a secret?”
“Oh, that! Yes, but … there are situations when a man has a right—no, a duty—to break his word.”
“Such as?”
“This one. I mean, they take a bunch of metal dolls, pad them with plastic, add a little make-up, then shuffle them like phony cards into a deck of humans—and hope to make a killing on the deal. No, any honest man would do what I’m doing. Hasn’t anyone else been around to see you?”
“Not yet. You’re the first. But we’ve just lifted off…” Pirx said with a tonelessness not devoid of irony; the irony was evidently lost on Brown.
“I’ll do whatever you think advisable.”
“What for?”
Brown batted his doll-like lashes.
“Eight thousand, wasn’t it?”
“So? I was hired on as a pilot, which is what I am. And a damned good one, at that.”
“And another eight on signing off—all for a few weeks’ work. Brown, no one gets sixteen thousand for a shakedown cruise—not a passenger pilot, not a patrol pilot, not a navigator. You got that money for keeping your mouth shut. They wanted to spare you any temptations.”
Dismay was written all over Brown’s pretty-boy face.
“So you’re offended by my coming, by my confiding in you…?”
“Not at all. What’s your IQ?”
“My IQ? A hundred twenty.”
“High enough for you to know what’s what. Tell me, what do I gain by listening to your suspicions about Burns?”
The young pilot stood up.
“Sorry, Commander. It was a mistake, a misunderstanding. I meant well, but … it’s obvious what you’re thinking. Let’s forget it. But remember, you gave me—”
He was silenced by a smile from Pirx.
“Sit down, Brown. I said, sit down!”
He sat down.
“You were about to remind me of my promise, right? Because what would happen if I were to blab? Shh! Don’t interrupt your commanding officer! You see, it’s not so simple. It’s not that I don’t value your trust. But trust is one thing, logic another. Suppose, thanks to you, I know by now who you are and who Burns is. What good does that do me?”
“That’s up to you. You’re the one who’s supposed to rate the crew’s performance…”
“Right! The whole crew, Brown! And you don’t expect me to falsify the record, do you? To penalize the robots for not being human?”
“That’s none of my business,” callously said the pilot, who had been squirming on his chair during this lecture.
Pirx’s glower stilled him.
“Stop playing the airman first class who can’t see anything beyond his stripes. If you’re human and feel any loyalty toward your fellow humans, then try to—”
“What do you mean, ‘if’?” Brown flinched. “Don’t you believe me? Do you take me for a—”
“Whoa there! Just a slip of the tongue!” came Pirx’s quick rejoinder. “Sure, I believe you. In fact, since you’ve told me your identity and I have no intention of judging you, morally or otherwise, I would like you to go on reporting to me.”
“Now I’m really confused,” said Brown with an unpremeditated sigh. “First you put me down, then you ask me to turn—”
“No, two different things, Brown. What’s done is done; there’s no backing out now. The money, now, that’s different. Maybe you were right to talk. But if I were you, I wouldn’t take it.”
“Huh? But, sir…” Brown was desperately searching for a justification. “Then they’d know for sure I broke contract! They might even sue me for breach—”
“It’s up to you. I’m not insisting you give it back. I gave you my word; I’m not my brother’s keeper. I only told you what I would do if I were you. But you’re not me and I’m not you, and that’s that. Anything else?”
Brown shook his head, then parted his lips, only to clamp them shut again and shrug. He betrayed more than just disappointment at the outcome of their conversation, but, without uttering another word, he assumed his usual erect bearing and left.
Pirx took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said ‘if you’re human,’” he reproached himself. “What a goddamned guessing game! Either he’s human, or it was all a big act—not just to throw me, but to do a little probing, to see if I would pull anything in violation of the contract… Anyway, I didn’t come off too badly this round. If he was telling the
