Utopia

“It won’t be that extreme,” said Fredda. “He’ll be very careful. And so should we be. Just because his body is immobilized, it doesn’t mean that he won’t be capable of committing-of doing something rash.”

Davlo nodded grimly. “I figured that much,” he said.

“Are you ready, then?”

He did not answer at first. He managed to tear his eyes away from Kaelor. He paced back and forth a time or two, rubbed the back of his neck in an agitated manner, and then stopped, quite abruptly. “Yes,” he said at last, his eyes locked on the most distant corner of the room.

“Very well,” she said. Fredda pulled an audio recorder out of her tool pouch, switched it on, and set on the floor in front of Kaelor. If they got what they needed, she wanted to be sure they had a record of it.

She stepped around to the rear of the maintenance frame, opened the access panel, and switched Kaelor back on. She moved back around to the front of the maintenance frame, and positioned herself about a meter and a half in front of it.

Kaelor’s eyes glowed dimly for a moment before they flared to full life. His head swiveled back and forth, as he looked around himself. He looked down at his arms and legs, as if confirming what he no doubt knew already-that his body had been immobilized. Then he looked around the room, and spotted Lentrall. “It would appear that you figured it out,” Kaelor said. “I was hoping for all our sakes that you would not.”

“I’m sorry, Kaelor, but I-”

“Dr. Lentrall, please. Let me handle this,” said Fredda, deliberately speaking in a cold, sharp-edged, professional tone. This had to be impersonal, detached, dispassionate if it was going to work. She turned to Kaelor, up there on the frame. No, call the thing by its proper name, even if she had just now realized what that name was. The rack. The torturer’s rack. He hung there, paralyzed, strapped down, pinned down. an insect in a collector’s sample box, his voice and his expressionless face seeming solemn, even a little sad. There was no sign of fear. It would seem Kaelor had either too little imagination, or too much courage, for that.

Suddenly she felt a little sick, but she forced herself to keep all hint of that out of her voice and expression. She told herself she was imposing human attributes on Kaelor, investing him with characteristics and emotions he simply did not have. There was no practical difference between having him up on that rack and having a malfunctioning aircar up on a hydraulic lift in a repair shop. She told herself all of that, and more, but she did not believe a word of it. She forced herself to look steadily, coolly, at Kaelor, and she addressed him. “Kaelor, do you know who I am?”

“Yes, of course. You are Dr. Fredda Leving, the roboticist.”

“Quite right. Now then, I am going to give you an order. You are to answer all my questions, and answer them as briefly as possible. Do not provide any information I do not ask for, or volunteer any information. Regard each question by itself. The questions will not be related to each other. Do you understand?” she asked.

“Certainly,” said Kaelor.

“Good.” Fredda was hoping, without much confidence, that she would be able to ask her questions in small enough pieces that no one question would present a First Law violation. And of course the questions would be related-that part was a baldfaced lie. But it might be a convincing enough lie to help Kaelor live through this. She knew for certain that asking, straight-out, the one big question to which they needed an answer would be absolutely catastrophic. She dared not ask for the big picture. She could only hope Kaelor would be willing and able to provide enough tiny pieces of the puzzle.

The trouble was, Kaelor had to know what she was doing as well as she did. How far would he be able to go before First Law imperative overrode the Second Law compulsion to obey orders?

There was one last thing she could do to help Kaelor. Fredda did not have any realistic hope that the Third Law’s requirement for self-preservation would help sustain Kaelor, but she could do her best to reinforce it all the same. “It is also vital for you to remember that you are important as well. Dr. Lentrall needs you, and he very much wants you to continue in his employ. Isn’t that so, Doctor?”

Lentrall looked up from the hole he was staring at in the floor, and glanced at Fredda before settling his gaze on Kaelor. “Absolutely,” he said. “I need you very much, Kaelor.”

“Thank you for saying so,” Kaelor said. He turned his gaze back on Fredda. “I am ready for your questions,” he said.

“Good,” said Fredda. It might well help Kaelor if she kept the questions as disordered as possible, and tossed in a few unrelated ones now and then. “You work for Dr. Lentrall, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Kaelor.

“How long have you been in his employ?”

“One standard year and forty-two days.”

“What are the specifications for your on-board memory system?