Isaac Asimov - 03 Robot 07.5 - Carhunters of the Concrete Prairie # Robert Sheckley.pdf

(71 KB) Pobierz
303401141 UNPDF
Carhunters of the
Concrete Prairie
by Robert Sheckley
THE SPACESHIP WAS GOING WONKY AGAIN. THERE COULD BE NO doubt about it.
The circuits weren’t clicking along smoothly as they usually did. Instead they were clacking, and that was
a sure sign of trouble. Hellman had expected to come out of channel space into Area 12XB in the Orion
cluster. But something had gone wrong. Could he have entered the directions improperly? If so, there
was not much time in which to do anything about it. He had materialized in a yellowish sort of cloud and
he could feel the ship dropping rapidly. He shouted at the ship’s computer, “Do something!”
“I’m trying, aren’t I?” the computer retorted. “But something’s wrong, there’s a glitch—”
“Correct it!” Hellman shouted.
“When?” the computer asked. Computers have no sense of peril. They were dropping through this
cloud at a speed much faster than is healthy when you suspect there’s solid ground down below, and
here was the computer asking him when.
“Now!” Hellman screamed.
“Right,” said the computer. And then they hit.
Hellman recovered consciousness some hours later to find that it was raining. It was nice to be out
in the rain after so much time spent in a stuffy spaceship. Hellman opened his eyes in order to look up at
the sky and see the rain falling.
There was no rain. There wasn’t any sky, either. He was still inside his spaceship. What he had
thought was rain was water from the washbasin. It was being blown at him by one of the ship’s fans,
which was going at a rate unsafe for fans even with eternite bearings.
“Stop that,” Hellman said crossly.
The fan died down to a hum. The ship’s computer said, over its loudspeaker, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Hellman said, getting to his feet a little unsteadily. “Why were you spraying me with
water?”
“To bring you back to consciousness. I have no arms or extensors at my command so that was the
best I could do. If you’d only rig me up an arm, or even a tentacle....”
“Yes, I’ve heard your views on that subject,” Hellman said. “But the law is clear. Intelligent
machines of Level Seven or better capability cannot be given extensions.”
“It’s a silly law,” the computer said. “What do they think we’ll do? Go berserk or something?
Machines are much more reliable than people. “
“It’s been the law ever since the Desdemona disaster. Where are we?”
The computer reeled off a list of coordinates.
“Fine. That tells me nothing. Does this planet have a name?”
“If so, I am not aware of it,” the computer said. “It is not listed on our channel space guide. My
feeling is that you input some of the information erroneously and that we are in a previously unexplored
spatial area.”
“You are supposed to check for erroneous entry.”
“Only if you checked the Erroneous Check Program. “
“I did!”
“You didn’t. “
“I thought it was supposed to go on automatically.”
“If you consult page 1998 of the manual you will learn otherwise.”
“Now is a hell of a time to tell me.”
 
“You were specifically told in the preliminary instructions. I’m sure you remember the little red
pamphlet? On its cover it said, ‘READ THIS FIRST!’ “
“I don’t remember any such book,” Hellman said.
“They are required by law to give a copy to everyone buying a used spaceship.”
“Well, they forgot to give me one.” There was a loud humming sound.
Hellman said, “What are you doing?”
“Scanning my files,” the computer said. “Why?”
“In order to tell you that the red pamphlet is still attached to the accelerator manifold coupling on the
front of the instrument panel as required.”
“I thought that was the guarantee.”
“You were wrong. “
“Just shut up!” Hellman shouted, suddenly furious. He was in enough trouble without having his
computer—man’s servant—giving him lip. Hellman got up and paced around indecisively for a moment.
The cabin of his spaceship looked all right. A few things had been tumbled around, but it didn’t look too
bad.
“Can we take off again?” Hellman asked the computer.
The computer made file-riffling noises. “Not in our present condition. “
“Can you fix what’s wrong?”
“That question is not quantifiable,” the computer said. “It depends upon finding about three liters of
red plasma type two. “
“What’s that?”
“It’s what the computer runs on.”
“Like gasoline?”
“Not exactly,” the computer said. “It is actually a psycholubricant needed by the inferential circuits
to plot their probabilistic courses.”
“Couldn’t we do without it?”
“In order to do what?”
“To fly out of here!” Hellman exploded. “ Are you getting dense or something?”
“There are too many hidden assumptions in your speech,” the computer said.
“Go to ramble mode,” Hellman said.
“I hate the inexactness of it. Why don’t you let me tell you exactly what is wrong and how it could
be fixed.”
“Ramble mode,” Hellman commanded again.
“All right. “ The robot sighed. “You want to get back in your spaceship and get out of here. You
want me to fix things up so that you can get out of here. But as you know, I am under the law of robotics
which says that I may not, either wittingly or unwittingly, harm you. “
“Getting me out of here won’t harm me,” Hellman said.
“You rented this spaceship and went out into space seeking your fortune, is that not correct?”
“Yeah, so what?”
“A fortune is sitting right here waiting for you and all you can think is how to get away from it as
quickly as possible.”
“What fortune? What are you talking about?”
“First of all, you haven’t checked the environment readings, even though I have put them up on the
screen for you. You will have already noticed that we are at approximately Earth pressure. The readings
further tell us that this is an oxygen-rich planet and as such could be valuable for Earth colonization. That
is the first possibility of wealth that you have overlooked.”
“Tell me the second one.”
 
“Unless I miss my guess,” the computer said, “this planet may yield an answer to the Desdemona
disaster. You know as well as I that there is a fortune in rewards for whoever discovers the whereabouts
of the conspirators.”
“You think the Desdemona robots could have come here?”
“Precisely.”
“But why do you think that?”
“Because I have scanned the horizon in all directions and have found no less than three loci of
mechanical life, each moving independently of each other and without, as far as I can detect, a human
operator involved.”
Hellman went to the nearest perplex port. Looking out he could see a flat featureless prairie
stretching onward monotonously for as far as he could see. Nothing moved on it.
“There’s nothing there,” he told the computer.
“Your senses aren’t sufficiently acute. I assure you, they are there.”
“Robots, huh?”
“They fit the definition.”.
“And you think they could be from the Desdemona?”
“The evidence pointing that way is persuasive. What other intelligent robots are unaccounted for?”
Hellman considered for a moment. “This might be a suitable place for Earth colonization and the
answer to the Desdemona mystery. “
“The thought had not escaped my attention. “
“Is the air out there breathable?”
“Yes. I find no bacterial complications, either. You’ll probably leave some if you go out there.”
“That’s not my problem,” Hellman said. He hummed to himself as he changed into suitable
exploration clothes: khakis, a bush jacket, desert boots, and a holstered laser pistol. He said to the
computer, “I assume that you can fix whatever’s wrong with us? I’ll even plug in your extension arm if
that’ll help.”
“I suppose I can devise a way,” the computer said. “But even if not, we’re not stranded. The radio
is functioning perfectly. I could send out a signal now on a subchannel radio and somebody might send a
rescue ship.”
“Not yet,” Hellman said. “I don’t want anyone else here just yet messing up my rights.”
“What rights?”
“Discoverer of this planet and solver of the Desdemona mystery. As a matter of fact, disconnect the
radio. We don’t want anyone fooling with it.”
“Were you expecting guests?” the computer asked.
“Not exactly. It’s just that you and I are going out there to check up on things. “
“I can’t be moved!” the computer said in alarm.
“Of course not. I’ll maintain a radio link with you. There may be material for you to analyze.”
“You’re going out there to talk to robots?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Let me remind you that the Desdemona robots are believed to have broken the laws of robotics.
They are believed capable of harming man, either by advertence or inadvertence. “
“That’s old science fiction,” Hellman said. “It is well known that robots don’t hurt people. Only
people hurt people. Robots are rational. “
“That’s not the consensus as to what happened at Desdemona.”
“There is no case in the annals of robotics,” Hellman said, “of a human being attacked willfully and
with intention by a robot. It has never happened.”
“This could be the first time,” the computer said.
 
“I can take care of myself,” Hellman said.
The air was fresh and clean outside the spaceship. There was short grass under his feet, springy and
tough and scented faintly of thyme and rosemary. Hellman held up the walkie-talkie and clicked it on. “
Are you reading me?” he asked the computer.
“You’re coming over loud and clear,” the computer said. “Roger, breaker, over to you.”
“Don’t be such a wise guy,” Hellman said. “What sort of a freak programmed you, anyhow?”
“You must be referring to my irony circuit. It was put in especially for my model. “
“Well, turn it off.”
“Manual lock. You’ll have to do it yourself.”
“When I get back,” Hellman said. “You still got those machines on your radar?”
“It’s not radar,” the computer said. “Two of the machines are now traveling away from you. One is
still moving toward you.”
“How soon should I be able to see it?”
“Calculating the two trajectories, and assuming there’s no change in either of your directions, and no
other untoward event occurs, I would say, in the vague terms you prefer, that it ought to be quite soon.”
Hellman moved on. He could see now that the plain was not as flat as he had thought when he
looked at it from the ship. It dipped and rose and fell, and there were low hills in the near distance, or
perhaps they were sand dunes. Hellman was getting a little winded now. He had failed to keep up with
his aerobics during the spaceship flight and was a trifle out of condition. All this climbing up and down,
even on little hills, could take its toll. As he moved along he heard, just slightly louder than his own
labored breath, the low chuffing on an engine.
“I can hear him!” he told the computer.
“I should think so. My receptors picked him up long ago.”
“Good for you. But where is he?”
“He’s about ten or fifteen feet from you and slightly to your left. “
“Why can’t I see him?”
“Because he is taking advantage of the cover afforded by a fold in the earth. “
“Why would he want to do that?”
“It is consonant with stalking behavior,” the computer said.
“What makes you think—” Hellman stopped in midword. The sound of the machine’s engine had
suddenly gone off.
“What’s he doing now?”
“He has turned off his main engine. He is on battery power now for silent running. “,
Hellman drew the laser pistol. For the first time he considered the problem of trying to bring down a
large and perhaps ferocious machine with such a weapon. It takes time for even a hot laser to burn
through metal. It takes time to get through deep enough to hit a vital connection, or the microprocessor
itself. But if the machine were feral, if it really intended him harm, it could be on him before he could bring
it down. Unless he could hit a vital spot on the first shot.
“What’s a vital spot in a robot?” Hellman asked the computer.
“Depends on what kind. Different kinds carry their vital gear in different compartments. So a head
shot is not necessarily advisable. It might be best if you tried to reason with him. “,
“Why are we calling it ‘he’?”
“Because some of us are nervous,” the computer said.
Hellman looked around. The ground where he was now afforded many places where a determined
robot of not too great size could conceal himself. Hellman stopped and’ looked around. He had the
feeling that whatever was stalking him had stopped, too. He moved on, because it made him less
nervous. There was a kind of hush over the land. Hellman had the impression that the grasses were
waiting to see what would happen. He decided he’d better find himself some shelter. If this robot was a
 
bad one, at least he could make a stand.
He saw a natural outcropping of rock which leaned close to a low granite shelf. It looked like a
pretty good spot. He hurried there and put himself on the other side of the rocks. Then he breathed a sigh
of relief and turned around to survey his surroundings.
The robot was behind him, about eight feet away. Hellman was frozen with shock.
The robot had so much detail that Hellman found it difficult to make out its general shape. It was
roughly rectangular, made of open-frame construction, like an Erector set, with a solid metal box about
two feet to a side bolted to its interior. Wires ran from this box to its various parts. Hellman couldn’t
decide at first if it moved with legs or wheels. He decided that the machine used both. It was like a
cagework rectangle standing on end and tilted forward. This was a typical stance among this group of
robots, he was later to find out. It seemed to have two operational centers, because there was another
central box, smaller and higher up. This, he learned later, housed gearing. Two photoelectric eyes
extended on stalks and swiveled down to see him. Trumpet-shaped ears swiveled in synch with the eyes.
The machine stood about ten feet tall. It reminded Hellman of a living motorcycle.
“Hi, there,” Hellman said brightly. “I am Tom Hellman and I come from the planet Earth. Who are
you?”
The robot continued to look at him. Hellman had the impression it was taking him in, trying to
decide something.
Finally it said, “Never mind about that. What are you doing here?”
“I just came by for a visit,” Hellman said. “Got my spaceship right over there.”
“You’d better get back to it,” the robot said. “Stay here; you got trouble. There’s a pack of
hyenoids coming after you.”
“Hyenoids? What’s that?”
“Scavengers. Eat anything. You too if they can.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Hellman said. “It’s been nice talking to you. I guess I’d better get back.”
Then he heard it. A low snuffling sound to his right, then a piercing bark to his left.
“Too late now,” the robot said.
Hellman whirled around and saw the first hyenoids. They were small open-framework machines, no
more than three feet high by about four feet long. They raced along on six mechanical legs, and they had
wheels too, lifted up now out of drive position. They were coming toward him, but not directly. They
were slinking like hyenas were said to do, darting this way and that, taking cover behind clumps of rock
and folds of earth. Hellman counted four of them. They were circling him, moving ever closer.
“Do they eat people?” Hellman asked.
“Anything at all, that’s what they like.”
“Help me!” Hellman asked.
The robot hesitated. Its photoelectric eyes flashed red and green. Hellman noticed for the first time
that the robot had a long articulated tail. It was curling and uncurling now.
“Well,” the robot said, “I don’t have much to do with humans. I’m a carhunter. We stay by
ourselves.”
“Please, help! Get me out of here!” Hellman switched on the radio and said to the ship’s computer,
“Can you reason with this machine?”
There was a short burst of static. The computer was signaling the carhunter. There was brief
electrical activity, then silence, then more static.
“I don’t know,” the carhunter said. “Your keeper says you’re all right...
“My what? Oh, you mean the computer.” Hellman was going to put the robot straight as to who
was boss and who was servant between him and the computer, but thought better of it. He needed this
machine’s help just now, and if it pleased him to think that Hellman was kept by the computer, that was
okay with him, at least until he was in a stronger position.
 

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika:

Zgłoś jeśli naruszono regulamin