Rollback

But there was no reply.

Chapter 42

When morning came, Don and Emily — who had arrived around midnight, and had slept in her old room while Don slept on the couch — started making the requisite phone calls to family and friends. The fifteenth or twentieth one Don made was to Cody McGavin. Ms. Hashimoto put him through at once, after he told her why he was calling.

"Hello, Don," McGavin said. "What’s up?"

Don said it simply, directly: "Sarah passed away last night."

"Oh, my… Oh, Don, I’m sorry."

"The funeral will be in three days, here in Toronto."

"Let me — no, damn it. I have to be in Borneo. I’m so sorry."

"That’s okay," Don said.

"I, um, I hate to even mention this," McGavin said, "but, ah, you do have the decryption key, don’t you?"

"Yes," replied Don.

"Good, good. Maybe you should give me a copy. You know, for backup."

"It’s safe," Don said. "Don’t worry."

"It’s just that—"

"Anyway," said Don. "I’ve got to make a lot more calls, but I thought you’d want to know."

"I do appreciate it, Don. And, again, my condolences."

When the call had come from McGavin Robotics, saying it was time for his Mozo’s routine-maintenance service check, Don had resisted the urge to put it off. "Fine," he said. "What time will you be here?"

"Whenever you like," the male voice had said.

"Don’t you have to schedule these things weeks in advance?"

The person at the other end of the line chuckled. "Not for Mr. McGavin’s priority customers."

The dark-blue van had shown up punctually at 11:00 a.m., just as Don had requested. A dapper little black man of about forty-five came to the door, carrying a small aluminum equipment case. "Mr. Halifax?" he said.

"That’s right."

"My name’s Albert. Sorry to be a bother. We like to tune things up periodically. You understand — better to nip problems in the bud than to let a major systems failure occur."

"Sure," said Don. "Come in."

"Where is your Mozo?" Albert asked.

"Upstairs, I think." Don led him up to the living room, then said loudly, "Gunter!"

Normally, Gunter appeared in a flash — Jeeves on steroids. But this time he didn’t, so Don actually yelled the name. "Gunter! Gunter!" When there was still no response, Don looked at the roboticist, feeling a bit embarrassed, as though a child of Don’s was misbehaving in front of guests. "Sorry."

"Could he be out back?" Albert asked.

"Maybe. But he knew you were coming…"

Don ascended the big staircase, Albert following him. They looked in the study, in the bedroom, in the en suite bathroom, in the other bathroom, and in what had been Emily’s old room. But there was no sign of Gunter. Going downstairs, they checked the kitchen and the dining room. Nothing. Then they headed to the basement, and—

"Oh, God!" said Don, sprinting to the fallen Mozo. Gunter was sprawled facedown in the middle of the floor.

The roboticist ran over, too, and kneeled. "His power’s off," he said.

"We never turn him off," said Don. "Could his battery have failed?"

"After less than a year?" Albert said, as if Don had suggested an absurdity. "Not likely."

The roboticist rolled Gunter over onto his back. "Shit," he said. There was a small panel open in the center of Gunter’s chest. Albert took a penlight from his breast pocket and shone it within. "Damn, damn, damn…"

"What is it?" asked Don. "What’s wrong?" He peered into the opening. "What are those controls for?"

"They’re the master mnemonic registers," Albert replied. He reached below the open panel, to Gunter’s recessed on/off switch, located right where a navel would have been, and he gave the switch a firm push.

"Hello," said the familiar voice, as the mouth outline twitched into life. "Do you speak English? Hola. Habla Español? Bonjour. Parlez-vous français? Konichi-wa. Nihongo-o hanashimasu-ka?"

"What is this?" said Don. "What’s happening?"

"English," Albert said to the robot.

"Hello," said the Mozo again. "This is the first time I’ve been activated since leaving the factory, so I need to ask you a few questions, please. First, from whom do I take instructions?"

"What’s he talking about?" said Don. " ‘First time.’ What’s with that?"

"He’s done a system restore," Albert said, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

"What?"

"He’s wiped his own memory, and reset everything to its factory-default state."

"Why?"

"I don’t know. I’ve never seen one do that before."

"Gunter…" said Don, looking into the two, round glassy eyes.

"Which of you is Gunter?" replied the robot.

"No," said Don. " You’re Gunter. That’s your name."

"Is that G-U-N-T-H-E-R?" asked the machine.

Don felt his stomach knotting. "He’s — he’s gone, isn’t he?"

The man nodded.

"No way to bring him back?"

"I’m sorry, no. It’s a total wipe."

"But—" And then Don got it. It had taken him longer than it had taken Gunter, but he got it. The only — the only person who had been with Sarah when she’d unlocked the Dracon message had been Gunter. This technician hadn’t come here to give the Mozo a tune-up. He’d come to tap into Gunter’s memories, to steal the decryption key for McGavin. The rich man had wanted to control everything — and with the decryption key he could, taking over the creating of the Dracon children himself and cutting Don right out of the process.

"Get out," Don said to the roboticist.

"Excuse me?"

Don was furious. "Get the hell out of my house."

"Mr. Halifax, I—"

"Do you think I don’t know what you were sent here to do? Get out."

"Honestly, Mr. Halifax—"

"Now!"

Albert looked frightened; Don was physically twenty years younger than him and six inches taller. He grabbed his aluminum case and hurried up the stairs, while Don gingerly helped Gunter get back on his feet.

Don knew what must have happened. After he’d called McGavin to tell him that Sarah had passed on, McGavin had thought back to the last time he’d seen Sarah, and, in replaying it in his mind, he must have realized that Gunter would have seen Sarah apply the decryption key, and so probably knew what it was.

Don was livid as he told his phone to call McGavin. After two rings, a voice he knew answered. "McGavin Robotics. Office of the president."

"Hello, Ms. Hashimoto. It’s Donald Halifax. I’d like to speak to Mr. McGavin."

"I’m sorry, but he’s not available right now."

Don spoke with controlled rage. "Please take a message. Tell him I need to hear back from him today."

"I can’t commit to when Mr. McGavin might return any given call, and—"

"Just give him the message," Don said.

Don’s phone rang two hours later. "Hi, Don. Ms. Hashimoto said you called—"

"If you ever try a stunt like that again, I swear I’ll cut you completely out," Don said. "Jesus, we thought we could trust you!"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Don’t play games. I know what you were trying to do with Gunter."

"I’m not—"

"Don’t deny it."

"I think you should take a deep breath, Don. I know you’ve been through a lot—"

"You’re damn right I have. They say people aren’t really gone, so long as we remember them. But now one of those who remembered Sarah perfectly is gone."

Silence.

"Damn it, Cody! We can’t do this if I can’t trust you."

"That robot is mine," McGavin said. "He’s on loan from my company — so everything in his memories is my property."

"There’s nothing in his memories now," snapped Don.

"I — I know," said McGavin. "I’m sorry. If I’d thought for one second that he’d—"

Silence for a time, then: "No robot has ever done that before."