Project Pope

Four

They sat in the control room, sprawled out in the chairs.

'Don't make the mistake, the captain warned them, 'of thinking of the robots of Project Pope as happy little servitors. They are high-powered electronic contraptions. Some people think they have managed to construct organic brains for themselves, but this I somehow doubt. Such a thought stems from the prejudicial viewpoint of a biological being. There is no reason to believe, once you think of it realistically, that a technological thinking and reasoning apparatus, given the present state of the art, need be one whit inferior to a human brain, or, actually, any kind of brain. These robots, for centuries, have been continually upgrading their capabilities, improving themselves in many different ways, as a human mechanic will keep on dinging up an engine to make it run better.

'How well are you acquainted with them? Te

'Normal contacts only, the captain replied. 'The necessary contacts for the conduct of my business. I have no friends among them, if that is what you're asking.

'I'm sorry if I seemed to question you, said Te

'I have been told, said Jill, 'that the robots have humans working for them.

'I don't know if the humans are working for them, the captain told her. 'Maybe they are working together. There are humans, a rather large corps of them. But my contacts never have been with the humans. I see only the robots and then only when they want to see me. Project Pope is a big operation. No one outside Vatican really seems to know what is going on. One story has it that the robots are trying to build an infallible pope — an electronic pope, a computer pope. There appears to be an idea that the project is an outgrowth of Christianity, an Old Earth religion.

'We know what Christianity is, Jill said. 'There still are a lot of Christians, perhaps more than ever before. True, Christianity no longer looms as important as it did before we began going into space. This, however, is a relative thing. The religion is still as important as ever, but its seeming importance has been diluted by the many other faiths that exist in the galaxy. Isn't it strange that faith is so universal? Even the ugliest aliens appear to have a faith to cling to.

'Not all of them, said the captain. 'Not all of them by any means. I have run into alien areas, into entire planets, where no one had ever thought of religion or of faith. And, I must say, that they were not the worse for it. Sometimes, I thought better.

'Constructing a pope, said Te

'You never can tell about robots, the captain observed. 'They are a fu

'They should be, said Jill. 'We are the ones who dreamed them up. No other culture did. There are those who will tell you that robots are extensions of ourselves.

'There may be some truth in that, the captain agreed. 'Screwy as they may be at times, they are still several cuts above any alien I ever met.

'You don't like aliens, said Te

'You aren't just whistling through your teeth. Who does like the scummy bastards?

'And yet you use them on your ship.

'Only because I can't pull together a crew of humans. Out here, there aren't many humans.

'And you haul the aliens out to End of Nothing, then haul them back to Gutshot.

'Someone has to haul them, said the captain, 'and I get well paid for doing it. I haul them, but nothing says I have to associate with them. It's not only that I dislike them, which I do, but we humans have to stick together. If we don't, they'll overwhelm us.

Te

'Tell us about End of Nothing itself, said Jill. 'We've talked about it ever since I came aboard and not once have you told me what kind of planet it is. I have no idea if it's farmland or-

'It's not farmland, said the captain. 'The project does have some gardens and fields, the robots laboring in them, to grow food for their biological brothers. But other than that, it is all wasteland, the environment untouched, standing as it always has. It has not been exploited; there are not enough people in its economy to exploit it. The only exploiter that I know, is a man by the name of Thomas Decker. Decker is a strange character. He lives alone in a cabin at the outskirts of the settlement.

'You are a friend of Decker's?

'Not a friend. We have a small business arrangement. Almost every trip he brings me a small sack of semiprecious stones. You know the kind — garnets, aquamarines, amethyst, topaz. Nothing very rare, seldom really valuable. Low-grade opal now and then. Once a couple of emeralds we did rather well on. No great deal. No possibility of great wealth. I have a feeling he doesn't do it for the money, although I may be wrong about that. A man of mystery. No one knows a single thing about him, although he's been there for years. I think he does his gem hunting for the fun of it. He brings me the gems and I sell them to a contact I have in Gutshot. He pays me a ten-percent fee.

'Where does he get the stones? asked Te

'Somewhere out in the wilds. He goes back into the mountains and picks them out of streambeds, working the gravels.

'You said you doubt he does it for the money, said Jill. 'What does he do it for, then?

'I'm not sure, the captain responded. 'Maybe it's just something to do, a hobby to keep him busy. One thing I didn't tell you. He does not bring me all the gems he finds. The better pieces he holds out. Some of them he carves. There is one good-sized piece of jade. All by itself, it would be worth a lot of money. The way he has carved it makes it worth a fortune. But he won't let loose of it. Says that it's not his, that it doesn't belong to him.

'Who else could it belong to?

The captain shook his head. 'I wouldn't know. Perhaps no one. It's just his way of talking. Lord knows what he means. You must understand that in many ways he is a strange man — a strangely private person and old-fashioned, as if he'd stepped out of another age, as if he did not quite belong in the present. The fu

'You must be a close friend of his. To know this much about the man, I mean.

'No, not a close friend. No one is a close friend of his. The man's pleasant enough, in many ways he's charming, but he does not associate with the other humans at End of Nothing. By that, I don't mean he repels them, or even that he avoids them, but he does not seek them out. He never joins the crowd at the bar at Human House; he almost never ventures into town. He's got an old beat-up vehicle, one of those cars that can cover tough terrain. He bought it off someone in the settlement. I don't remember who, if I ever knew. He does some traveling around in that, but always by himself. When he goes back into the wilderness to hunt for gems, he doesn't take it. He walks. It's as if he needs no one, as if he has all he needs back there in the wilderness and in his cabin at the edge of town. I've been at his cabin once — that's when I saw the carvings he had made. I wasn't invited, but I went and he seemed glad enough to see me. He was friendly. We sat in front of the fire and talked, but there were times when I thought he wasn't really there, that he wasn't with me, that he scarcely was aware of me. As if- and this may sound strange — that while he was talking with me and listening to me he also was talking with and listening to someone else as well. Once again, there is absolutely nothing I can put a finger on, but the impression was there. He told me, when I left, how glad he was I'd come, but he didn't ask me back and I've never gone back. I doubt I ever will.