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uncertain what he was searching for. Anything could contain the clue, the
answer, the explanation. A word from a passing human, a sign on a wall, the
design of a building, might just stimulate his datastore to provide him with
the answers he needed.
He stopped at a corner and looked across the street to the building opposite.
Well, the sight of this particular building did not cause any torrent of facts
to burst forth, but it was a strange-looking thing nonetheless, even
considering the jarringly different architectural styles he had seen in the
city. It was a muddle of domes, columns, arches, and cubes.
Caliban could fathom no purpose whatsoever in it all.
 Out of my way, robot, an imperious voice called out behind him.
Caliban, lost in his consideration of things architectural, did not really
register the voice. Suddenly a walking stick whacked down on his left
shoulder.
Caliban spun around in astonishment to confront his attacker.
Incredible. Simply incredible. It was a tiny woman, slender, thin-boned,
easily a full meter shorter than Caliban, clearly weaker and far more frail
than he was. And yet she had deliberately and fearlessly ordered him about,
instead of merely stepping around him, and then struck at him--using a weapon
that could not possibly harm him. Why did she not fear him? Why did she have
such obvious confidence that he would not respond by attacking her, when he
could clearly do so quite effectively?
He stared at the woman for an infinite moment, too baffled to know what to do.
 Out of my way, robot! Are your ears shorting out?
Caliban noticed a crowd of people and robots starting to form around him, one
or two of the humans already betraying expressions of curiosity. It would
clearly be less than prudent to remain here, or attempt to respond when he so
clearly did not understand. He stepped aside for the lady and then picked a
direction, any direction but the one she had taken, and started walking again.
Enough of aimless wandering. He needed a plan. He needed knowledge.
And he needed safety. Clearly he did not know how to act like a robot.
And the expressions, some of them hostile, he had seen on the faces of the
passersby told him it was dangerous to be peculiar in any way.
No. He had to lie low, stay in the background. Safer to blend in, to pretend
to be like the others.
Very well, then. He would blend in. He would observe the behavior he saw
around himself, work determinedly to get lost among the endless sea of robots
around him.
KRESH walked the streets of Hades at the same hour, though with more certain
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
purpose. He found that it helped to clear his head and refocus his attention
if he got away from his office, got away from the interrogation rooms and
evidence labs, and stretched his legs under the dark blue skies of
Inferno. There was a cool, dry wind blowing in from the western desert, and he
found that it lifted his spirits. Donald 111 walked alongside him, the robot
s shorter legs moving almost at double time in order to keep up with Alvar.
 Talk to me, Donald. Give me an evidence summary.
 Yes, sir. Several new facts have come to light from the hospital and our
forensic lab. First and foremost, we have confirmed that the bloody footprints
match the tread patterns of a standardized robot body model manufactured at
Leving Labs. That robot body is a large general-purpose model, used with
various brain types and body modifications for various purposes. The length of
the footprints stride precisely matches that of the standard specification
for that robot body model. The wound on Fredda Leving, s head corresponds to
the shape and size of the arm of the same robot type, striking from the rear
and to the left of the victim, from an angle consistent with
Fredda Leving, s height and the height of that robot model--though all of
those measurements are approximate, and any number of other blunt instruments
would match, and a whole range of heights, forces, and angles would also be
consistent with the wound.
 Microtraces of a red paint found in Madame Leving s scalp wound likewise
correspond to a paint used on some robots at Leving Labs, though it has not
been definitively established that the paint in question was used on the robot
model in question. I might add that it could not be immediately established
whether the microtraces were from fresh or fully dried and hardened paint, as
it was some hours before the labtech robots secured the samples. Further tests
should answer that question.
 So the only suspect we are offered is a robot. That s impossible, of course.
So it had to be a human--a Settler--posing as a robot. Except even a
Settler who had been on the planet five minutes would know that it is
impossible for a robot to attack a human. Why bother to plant doctored
evidence we will refuse to believe?
 That point has bothered me as well, Donald said.  But even if we assume a
Settler was involved in this crime, we must assume that the Settler in
question knew more about robots than the average Spacer.
 What do you mean?
 Consider the detailed familiarity and access to robot equipment required to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]