“Will you at least admit to being responsible for what has happened to all of us today?” Tessa remained standing behind a row of chairs, trying not to look at the robot. She felt that speaking directly to the machine gave in to its purpose, succumbing to the tendency to treat it as another human.
The homolog smiled. “I suppose it would be foolish not to admit at least that much. Of course I am the author of the events. Who else could there be?”
Varian smiled mockingly. “We don’t know. Why don’t you tell us?”
The robot shrugged a very humanlike shrug. “Why there is no one else, of course.”
“Of course,” said Stoor. “I tell you, it’s not right what you’re doin’ to us. . . . Why don’t you let us go?”
“Under the circumstances, I think that would be quite impossible.” The robot turned and walked to the door, then faced the group again. “I suppose I should tell you . . . that the events you have witnessed are only the beginning. But I would think you have already guessed that. Good evening.”
The homolog left the chamber and Stoor made a move for his sidearm but stopped himself, ashamed at his frustration.
“What now?” asked Tessa.
“I’m not sure,” said Varian. “We could wait it out, or we could make some plans.”
“Plans?” Stoor almost laughed. “Like what?”
“Like maybe how to rig up a way of talking that will keep Guardian from knowing that we are doing so. . . . It could be as simple as passing notes, like Raim. . . .”
“Damn slow, don’t you think?” Stoor puffed on his pipe.
“I think it’s safe to say we have plenty of time,” said Tessa. Raim laughed and nodded, holding up his note pad and pencil.
“True,” said Stoor. “All right. We think up something that will work. What then?”
Varian smiled. “Give me that paper,” he said.
Chapter Nine
The system of communication proved to be practical, but none of their other plans came to fruition.
Rather, the group seemed to be an integral part in a far more elaborate plan, a plan which involved their unwitting cooperation in an apparently unending series of encounters with strange characters and demanding situations.
Varian and Tessa awoke one morning to discover that they had been transported to an island, where they were held captive by a giant humanoid with one great eye in the center of his head. The illusion, if it was one, proved to be distressingly realistic, and the harassments and cruelties of the giant continued until Varian took deliberate action against the creature. Tessa had at first felt that non-cooperation would be the best solution. But ignoring some bad things does not make them go away; it simply makes them worse.
The one-eyed creature grew increasingly more threatening until Varian devised a way of blinding it while it slept. After that, the entire scene dissolved and the pair were returned to their quarters, exhausted but unharmed.
Stoor was banished to a strange landscape, where he met with an odd assortment of characters and creatures: something which identified itself, accommodatingly, as the Thespian Lion, which the old man skewered on his shortsword; another lion, from a place called Nemea, which old Stoor choked to death. He was then instructed to kill a hideous, plantlike creature called the Hydra, which he did by setting it afire, and a host of other unimaginative, tiresome confrontations, all of which involved the killing of some kind of beast: a stag, a bull, a flock of plaguelike birds, a three-headed dog which sounded very much like the one Raim had described, some rather vicious horses, and even a large, incredibly dull-witted giant who claimed to be carrying the World upon his back (it looked like nothing more than a fairly large boulder to Stoor, however).
Raim, on the other hand, seemed to fall prey to a curious transformation syndrome. That is, in most of his hallucination-like adventures, he would always wind up, after reacting in some manner with humans dressed in tunics and robes, being changed into some object or animal. The list was almost endless: a flower, several kinds of shrubs and trees, a bull, a stag, a dog, and even an eagle. Each time, although with a steadily lessening degree as the act repeated itself, Raim concluded the sequence in the terror-borne thought that this time, it might be real.
Yet each encounter would end in a blackout, with the mute Maaradin awakening in his bunk, feeling exhausted, confused, and, worst of all, abused.
He shared his impressions with Tessa, who had been experiencing similar illusions—and they were indeed illusions, although they seemed so intensely real. It was difficult to imagine that a machine, even a machine such as Guardian, could orchestrate and sustain so convincing a spectacle.
Especially when they concerned her body and her sexuality: Rape fantasies abounded, accented by bizarre encounters with strange men and beasts such as a swan, a bull, a stag, and even a falcon.
It was decided unanimously that they spend their days together so that any additional “dramas” in which the Guardian chose to involve them would be experienced by all. When they belatedly adopted this tactic, all illusions ceased.
While they were awake, that is.
When sleep overtook them each evening, the nightmarish dreams began. In some arcane fashion, the Artificial Intelligence had devised a way to manipulate their subconscious minds.
Clearly, new strategies were required.
Varian suggested that their waking hours should be spent in detailed reconnaissance of their prison world. By utilizing Stoor’s wealth of experience in picking about the ruins of First Age monuments, and Varian’s training and abilities as a navigator and cartographer, they might be able to construct a more comprehensible picture of their adversary.
Each day, then, was spent exploring different levels and chambers of the Citadel, measuring, calculating, and then mapping out the physical confines of the place. The project was a large one and it became the obsession of their days. They were consumed with the task, taking time off only to eat
