Split Infinity

She took Stile firmly by the elbow and guided him along. “This time we’ll get you where you belong,” she said with an oblique smile.

He squeezed her hand. She had taken his prior advice to heart, and become so human it was almost annoying. But she had certainly bailed him out.

When they were safely in the capsule, flying through the tube toward a larger dome. Sheen explained: “I knew you’d return. Stile, somehow. I really am programmed for intuition. So I had my friends make up a robot in your likeness, and we got you a new employer.  The moment the query on you came through the computer—“

“I see.” Her friends were the self-willed machines, who could tap into the communication network. In fact, some of them probably were the communication network. What an asset they were at times!

From the general dome they took a transport rocket to Stile’s original home dome. In a matter of minutes, the travel of several days by unicorn was reversed. That reminded him of another aspect. What should he say to Sheen about Neysa?

They returned to Stile’s old apartment. Sheen had kept it in good order—or the robot who bore his name had done so. It seemed Sheen had put the robot away as soon as news of Stile’s appearance reached her. Sheen had been most industrious and efficient on his behalf.

What had it been like, here, with two robots? Had they eaten, slept, made love? Stile found himself feeling jealous and had to laugh at himself. Obviously the robot-Stile was not self-willed. It would be a true ma-chine, programmed by Sheen.

“We must talk,” Sheen said. “But I think first we must feed you and rest you. That curtain-frame has not treated you kindly. You are bronzed and scratched and gaunt around the edges.”

Stile’s thirst abruptly returned. He almost snatched at the cup of nutro-beverage she brought, and gulped it down. “Yes. Drink and food and rest, in that order,” he said. “And talk, of course.”

She glanced obliquely at him. “Nothing else?”

Ah, sex appeal! But he was restrained. “I think we should talk, then consider the else. You may not be pleased.”

“You may not be entirely pleased with what I have done, either,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “With my double?”

She laughed. “Stile, it’s impossible! He’s a robot!”

“Good thing there are none of that ilk here,” he agreed.

“You know what I mean. It’s just not the same.”

“You speak from experience?”

“No. He’s not programmed for love.”

“I had come to that conclusion. Otherwise you would not have been so glad to have me back.”

After he had eaten and emerged from the dry-cleaning unit, they lay down together. In what way, he asked himself, was this creature inferior to Tune? Sheen looked and felt as nice, and she had displayed astonishing initiative. It seemed no one knew he had been absent a week. Any attempt to kill his robot double had of course been futile.

“Your friends have rendered this apartment private?” he inquired, remembering how it had almost become his prison. But for the device of the self-willed machines, who had made it seem he was here when he wasn’t—

“Completely.” She put her arms about him, hugging him briefly, but went no further. “Shall I tell you?”

What would give a logical robot or an illogical woman pause? “You had better.”

“Your new employer doesn’t care at all about horse racing. He cares about the Game. Each year he has sponsored a leading contender in the Tourney, but has never had a win. This year—“

“Oh, no! I’m expected to compete—“

“This year,” she agreed. “And it has to be you. The robot cannot do it in your stead. Even were it legal, he cannot match your ability. I have bought you security, Stile—but at the expense of your tenure.”

“You realize that’s likely to finish your mission too?  One way or the other, I won’t need protection after I enter the Tourney.”

“Had there been any other way—“ She sighed.

“Stile, you were fired for cause. No blacklist was entered against you, because your reluctance to race again was understandable, but even so, very few Citizens were interested in you. My friends had to do a research- sifting to locate—“

“The one Citizen who would hire me,” Stile finished.  “I don’t fault you for that; you did the only thing you could do, and did it excellently.”

“But your tenure—“

“I now have another option.” But he was not eager to get into the matter of Phaze and his decision to remain there, yet.

“Your anonymous enemy remains. Not the Citizen who tried to make a cyborg of you; he opted out when he realized the week had passed. The original one, who lasered your knees. The one who, perhaps, sent me. There were several attempts made on the robot. My friends are closing the net, trying to locate that enemy, but he is extraordinarily cunning and elusive. I can not protect you from him long. So—“

“Infernally logical,” he agreed. “Better the Game than death. Better abbreviated tenure than none at all.  But I had thought I would be all right if I made it clear I would not race again.”