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22
They waited on the riverbank, with the canoes drawn up on the rocky beach. Some of the canoe-men were squatted about a tiny driftwood fire, broiling fish that they had caught, others were sitting about and talking, one of them lay fast asleep upon the river pebbles—which seemed to Jason, watching the sleeper, to be a most unsatisfactory bed.
The river was smaller here, much smaller than it was at the old camp from which they had started out. It was in a hurry here, its waters, sparkling in the sun of late afternoon, ru
Behind them rose the great flared structure of the Project, a black thin scroll of metal that seemed at once massive from its very size and yet so fragile that one wondered it did not flutter in the breeze.
"Did the same thought cross your mind," John asked Jason, "as occurred to me?"
"You mean whatever it might be the Project was talking with?"
"That's it," said John. "Do you think that it is possible? Could a superrobot, or a vastly sophisticated computer, or whatever that thing is up there, get in contact with the Principle?"
"It may only be listening to it, be aware of it, perhaps extracting some information from it. It may not actually be talking with it."
"It does not have to be the Principle," said John. "It could be another race or other races. We have found a few of them and of these there are very few with whom we can communicate because we have no common ground for understanding. But a biological-mechanical contraption, such as that up there, might make ground for understanding. It may have a mind, if what it has can be called a mind, that is more flexible than ours. There is no question that it is the equal of mankind in its background for understanding. For hundreds of years the robots have pumped into its memory cores as much of human knowledge as they have been able to lay their hands upon. It probably is the best educated entity that has ever existed on the Earth. It has the equivalent of several hundred university or college educations. The sheer impact of the knowledge—all of which it would keep intact, not being subject to the forgetfulness of human beings—might have given it a broader outlook than any man has yet achieved."
"Whatever it is talking with," said Jason, "it is one up on us. There are very few intelligences out there with which we have been able to set up any kind of communication, let alone a meaningful communication. And the communication this superrobot has set up, I gather, is very meaningful."
"Perhaps meaningful for two reasons," said John. "First, it might be able to decipher the symbols of the language…"
"The function of a good computer," Jason pointed out.
"And, secondly, a good computer might have, not only a better and a different understanding, but a wider understanding. It might have a wider spectrum of understanding than is possible in a human. Our failure to achieve communication is due, in many instances, to our inability to comprehend a way of thought and a schedule of values different from our own."
"It is taking a long time," said Red Cloud. "Do you think that monstrosity up there is having trouble making up its mind? Although I'm inclined to think it makes no difference what it says. I am doubtful it could be of help."
"It is not a monstrosity, sir," said Hezekiah. "It is a logical construction for such as I to make, although I must hasten to say that such as I would never make it. Logical though it may be, it is an abomination built of sinful pride. But even so, I am certain that if it so decides, it can be of help. For, logically built, it would deal in logic…"
"We'll soon know," said Jason, "for Stanley is coming down the path."
They got to their feet and waited for the glittering robot. He came down off the path and across the beach to stand in front of them. He looked from one to another of them. "For you," he finally said, "the news is bad."
"You won't help us, then," said Jason.
"I am truly sorry," the robot said. "My personal inclination would be to cooperate with you in any way we could. But we built the Project as another one of us, as a greater one of us—perhaps I should say," nodding to Horace Red Cloud, "as the chief of us and in consequence must go along with the Project's judgment. For what is the sense of creating a chief if you do not trust and follow him?"
"But on what basis was the judgment made?" Jason asked. "That you do not trust us, perhaps. Or that the problem, in your opinion, is somewhat less a problem than we had stated it?"
Stanley shook his head. "Neither of those," he said.
"You realize, of course, that if the People come they can take you over. And the Project, too."
Hezekiah said, "Surely you owe these gentlemen the courtesy..»
"You keep out of this," said Stanley, speaking sharply.
"I will not keep out of it," said Hezekiah, his words rasping with an uncharacteristic anger. "These are the creatures that made us. They are our creators. Any loyalty that we have we owe to them. Even your Project owes them loyalty, for you used not only the intelligence that the humans gave you to conceive and build the Project, but you salvaged from their world the materials to build it, the knowledge to feed into it."
"We no longer look for loyalty," said Jason. "Perhaps we never should have. I sometimes think we owe you an apology for ever having built you. We certainly gave you no world for which you have occasion to be thankful. But now, as it turns out, we're all in this together. If the People come back to occupy the planet, all of us will suffer."
"What do you want?" asked Stanley.
"Your help, of course. But since you can't give us that, I think we have the right to ask why you are refusing help."
"It will be no comfort to you."
"Who said anything of comfort? It's not comfort we are looking for."
"All right," said Stanley, "Since you insist. But I ca
He reached into the pouch suspended from his waist, took out a folded piece of paper, unfolded it and smoothed it out.
"This," he said, "is the answer that the Project gave us."
He handed the piece of paper to Jason. There were three printed lines upon it. Theyread: The situation outlined is immaterial to us. We could help humanity, but there is no reason that we should. Humanity is a transient factor and is none of our concern.
23
Uncle Jason had said that, as a begi
Now, sitting at the desk in the library, with the night wind muttering in the eaves and the thick candle burned almost to its socket, Evening Star wondered wearily at the need of understanding. Understanding would not take the lines of worry from Uncle Jason's face. It would not ensure, if the People came, that the forests and the buffalo plains would remain, unchanged, the province of her people. And it would not tell her what had happened to David Hunt.
The last consideration, she admitted to herself, was for her, personally, the most important one of all. He had held and kissed her on that day they'd found the creature in the glen and they'd walked back to the house together hand in hand. And that had been the last she had seen of him, the last that anyone had seen of him. She had walked the woods, hoping she would find him or some trace of where he might have gone, and she remembered with a rush of shame that she had gone down the road to the monastery to inquire if he'd been there. The robots had not cared; they had been courteous, but scarcely pleasant, and she had walked back to the house feeling, in a sense, degraded, as if she had shown her naked body to those uncaring men of metal.