Project Pope

Ten

It was still dark when Te

The ship! He sat upright in bed, jerked out of sleep by the thought. The ship and Jill and End of Nothing.

The End of Nothing, for the love of Christ! And then everything came tumbling in upon him.

A terrible stillness lowered over him and a stiff rigidity, and he sat stricken in the bed.

Mary had found Heaven!

The light, he saw, came from a door that opened into the living area. The light flickered and wavered, brightening and fading, dancing on the walls, reaching forth and falling back. It came, he realized, from the fireplace, still burning. The fire, he told himself, should have burned to embers, drowned in gray ash, long ago.

In one dark corner of the room, a shadow moved, separating itself from the other shadows. 'Sir, are you awake? it asked.

'Yes, awake, said Te

'I am Hubert, said the shadow. 'I have been assigned your batman. I will do for you.

'I know what a batman is, said Te

'This is exceptional, said Hubert. 'I congratulate you, sir. Most people would not have known.

The batman moved out of the deeper shadows and now could be seen more clearly. He was a strange, angular, humanlike figure with an air of mingled strength and humility.

'Rest easy, sir, he said. 'I am a robot, but I will do no harm. My one purpose is to serve you. Shall I turn on a light? Are you ready for a light?

'Yes, I am ready. Please, a light, said Te

A lamp on a table against the farther wall came on. The room was a match for the living area he had seen earlier, its furniture solid and substantial, metal knobs gleaming, old wood shining darkly, paintings on the walls.

He threw back the covers and saw that he was naked. He swung his legs out of bed and his feet came down on carpeting. He reached for the chair beside his bed where he had draped his clothes. They were no longer there. He pulled back his hand, ran it through his hair and scrubbed his face. The whiskers grated underneath his palm.

'Your wardrobe has not arrived as yet, said Hubert, 'but I managed to obtain a change of clothes for you. The bath is over there; the coffee's ready in the kitchen.

'Bath first, said Te

'A shower or tub. If you prefer the tub, I can draw your bath.

'No, shower's fine. Faster. I have work to do. Is there any word of Mary?

'Knowing you would wish to know, said Hubert, 'I visited her about an hour ago. Nurse tells me she is doing well, responding to the protein. You'll find towels, toothbrush and shaving tackle laid out in the bath. When you are finished, I'll have your clothing for you.

'Thanks, said Te

'I am Mr. Ecuyer's man, sir. He has two of us. He is loaning me to you.

When he emerged from the bath, Te

The robot, he realized, now really seeing him for the first time, was a close approximation of a human — an idealized, shiny human. His head was bald and his polished metal was quite frankly metal, but other than that, he was passing human. He wore no clothing, but his entire body had a decorative look about it that gave the illusion of clothes.

'Will you wish breakfast now? the robot asked.

'No, only coffee now. Breakfast can come later. I'll look in on Mary and then be back.

'I'll serve the coffee in the living room, said Hubert. 'In front of the fireplace. I'll stir up the fire and have it blazing well.

Eleven

Te

The chill of the night was rapidly disappearing with the rising of the sun. The garden was a quiet and pleasant place, and Te

Sitting there, he was astonished to find within himself a quiet, warm pride of competence he had not felt in years. Mary was doing well — perhaps begi

There was no logic in it, he told himself. Someone was mistaken — either that, or it was some sort of joke, some sort of in-joke in Vatican or, perhaps, in the Search Program. Although Ecuyer, telling him of it, had not sounded as if he might be joking. He had told Ecuyer, and sitting there on the garden bench, he now told himself again, that Heaven, if it in fact existed, was not the sort of place that could be found. Heaven is a state of mind, he had said to Ecuyer; and Ecuyer had not disputed that, although it had been apparent that Ecuyer, a self-confessed not-quite-believer in Vatican itself, had held some sort of faith that Heaven could be found.

Nonsense, he told himself again. There was not a scrap of logic in it. And yet, he thought, more than likely this Heaven business was not one isolated instance of nonsense, but an extension of centuries of nonsense. No logic in it, and yet a robot, if it was distinguished by any character at all, would be known for its logic. The very concept of robotics was based on logic. Ecuyer had said that the robots had worked on self-improvement, were far better mechanisms than they had been when they first had come to End of Nothing. It did not seem possible, on the face of it, that the process of self-improvement would have lessened the quality or the scope of the logic that had served as the cornerstone of their creation.