Barrington Bayley SF Gateway Omnibus: The Soul of the Robot, The Knights of the Limits, The Fall of Chronopolis

‘Have another,’ offered the vendor.

Jasperodus gave up another three shillings. This time the jolt, added to the first, had a double effect. He began to laugh, understanding, as he did so, that he was becoming prey to a dangerous excess of confidence.

Shortly he discovered that the vendor’s partner, the parts dealer, had sidled close. ‘You’re a fine machine and no mistake,’ he said to Jasperodus. ‘One of the best models I’ve seen. That’s an excellent brain, with a lot of functions – I can tell that from the shape of your cranium. Yes sir, there are a lot of processes in that cortex.’ He touched Jasperodus’ arm admiringly. ‘You can’t need all those processes – wouldn’t miss a few logic centres at all, for instance. Probably a lot of built-in redundancy anyway. Like to sell me a few? I give a good price and it won’t take long. Keep you in jags for a long time.’

‘No,’ said Jasperodus.

Smiling, the other turned to the vendor. ‘Give him another. On the house.’ And he returned to his station by the door.

Jasperodus accepted the free shot. His vision became blurred. He was becoming drunk, he realised, enjoying the knowledge that the ebullience coursing through his system was the same as that he had so often observed in Inwing and others.

‘Vendor!’ he bellowed recklessly a minute or two later. ‘Bring me more of this electric poison!’

The vendor was quick to oblige, and even quicker scarcely another minute later when Jasperodus again called for more. After the dose had been delivered, however, Jasperodus groped in his bag and found that his scant few shillings were all spent. ‘I cannot pay you,’ he growled.

‘Three imperial shillings,’ the man insisted. ‘You owe me for your last jag.’

‘Electricity is cheap,’ Jasperodus said. ‘You are not out of pocket.’ He rose to his feet, staggered and nearly fell over.

The parts dealer had again appeared, and the vendor spoke to him. ‘This construct has tried to cheat us,’ he exclaimed indignantly. ‘He has accepted a jag and cannot pay. This is a serious matter.’

‘Indeed,’ said the dealer with gravity. He looked on Jasperodus with a frown, then adopted a more friendly pose.

‘My offer is still open,’ he said smoothly. ‘For the sale of only trifling fragments of your cerebral apparatus you can not only clear up the debt but also ensure a supply of exhilaration for many days to come.’

‘It appears, indeed, to be the only way you can deliver yourself from the predicament you are in!’ the vendor added angrily.

‘HAH!’ Jasperodus’ cry of contempt sounded through the noise of the shack. He pushed them both aside and staggered drunkenly away, while expostulations went unheeded behind him. Groping, supporting himself occasionally by grabbing the bodies of others, he gained the exit where he was confronted by the doorkeeper.

‘You may not leave without settling your debts.’

The door robot was a big one, well chosen for his role as bouncer and intimidator. Jasperodus, still at the height of an inner hilarity, lunged forward and when the larger robot reached to seize him he took a grip on the other’s upper arm, twisted round and bent low so as to bring his assailant off the ground and sailing over his shoulder.

The doorkeeper crashed to the floor. Jasperodus stepped into the open, well pleased. Considering his befuddled reactions, he thought, he had performed the manoeuvre with skill.

But suddenly he decided he no longer wished to be drunk. He moved some yards away from the Good Oil and paused, drawing himself erect. With a considerable effort he tried to flush the deranging influences out of his system and to take a more sober appraisal of his surroundings. Slowly he damped down the erratic emotions that were swirling through him; reluctantly the giddy perceptions subsided. Then, with a step only slightly unsteady, he set off back to where he had left Cree Inwing.

It was early evening when Jasperodus arrived at the tavern. As he was about to mount the stairs the landlord accosted him and broached a matter of business.

‘I have need of a household robot, one who can work on his own initiative and be entrusted with various matters,’ he said. ‘From our brief acquaintance I feel that you would fit the post admirably, and I was wondering if your master has it in mind to dispose of you? Frankly, what price do you think he will accept?’

Jasperodus did not divulge any information that would be useful during future bargaining, as the landlord had hoped. ‘As to that,’ he answered, ‘you must consult my master himself. But you will not find me cheap.’ He glanced upstairs. ‘I go to rouse him now. If you care to follow me up shortly perhaps you and he can discuss the proposal.’

He entered Inwing’s room to find him sitting blearily on the bed, having just woken. When he described the landlord’s advances Inwing grunted sardonically and waved his hand.

‘But you must accept,’ Jasperodus told him in all seriousness.

Inwing peered at him in puzzlement. ‘What on Earth are you talking about? Have you gone mad?’