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

Mark V laughed in embarrassment. ‘One’s machinery deteriorates with age, you know. We cannot expect always to remain in good condition. But how delightful to see you! I followed your career at court with great interest, insofar as one could glean anything from the newspapers, but for some years there has been no mention … I have often wondered what became of you.’

‘As you can see I have given up public service and have decided to return to old haunts,’ Jasperodus said. ‘Tell me what is new in the district.’

The two walked along together, but instead of supplying the information he desired Mark V treated Jasperodus to a description of an involved and abstruse theory of numbers he was working on. Thinking of his music, of his painting, of the vistas of creativity that were open to him, Jasperodus found Mark V’s preoccupations arid and paltry.

Presently they came to the centre of the robot enclave: a large, low-roofed structure known as the Common Room. At Mark V’s suggestion they entered. Here was a meeting place for robots from all over Subuh; beneath its timber beams they discoursed, debated and partook of stimulatory electric jags. Benches and chairs were set out in a loose pattern. A lively hum of conversation filled the air.

Mark V announced Jasperodus with a flourish. Several robots whom Jasperodus remembered from the early days came forward and stared at him curiously, as if unable to believe their eyes.

‘Jasperodus!’ cried one. ‘Is it really you?’

To his pleasure Jasperodus was welcomed as a celebrity and became the centre of attention. He was conducted to the place of honour, an ornate high-backed chair with lions’ heads carved on its arms.

A construct spoke up. ‘We were about to begin a debate on the nature of infinity and on whether time is truly serial. Would you care to participate?’

‘Thank you,’ replied Jasperodus, ‘but I am not in the mood for it.’

Mark V sidled close. ‘You have long been a hero to us free robots,’ he informed him. ‘For a construct to rise so high in the government! Here in Subuh you are famous.’

‘Have a caution,’ Jasperodus warned all. ‘If my presence here becomes famous outside Subuh the city guard will turn the borough upside down looking for me. I am now a renegade.’

A stir of excitement greeted his words. A tall, thin robot stepped near. ‘I once headed the committee that intended to propose you become leader of the wild robots, had you not suddenly disappeared.’

‘Here I am. I have returned to become your leader,’ Jasperodus said rashly. ‘Are you not tired of living like animals, without rights?’

He was now provoking some puzzlement, even consternation among the gathering. ‘What do you suggest?’ asked one.

‘I suggest nothing. When the time comes, I shall command.’

The robots crowded round him. Jasperodus was introduced to the more prominent among those he did not already know. He received a pointed question from one with graceful mannerisms, deep and thoughtful eyes, and called (for robots’ nicknames were sometimes strange and wonderful) Belladonna.

‘You hint at activities going far beyond the bounds of the law. Frankly, what have we to gain? Robots by themselves can achieve little. As it is the existence of our tiny enclave is a perplexing example of human tolerance, to my mind, since if the humans decided to trespass here we could not stop them.’

A neural pattern generator box was thrust before Jasperodus.

‘A jag, great leader?’

He accepted three shots in quick succession. Feeling warmed and stimulated, he turned to reply to Belladonna.

‘The reason for it is thuswise. Any beggar can tell you that he receives his alms from the poor, rarely from the rich, because only the poor understand poverty. So it is with you. The people of Subuh respect your little refuge out of a feeling for your plight, much as they will throw coins to a beggar. Besides, many of them are too ignorant to understand properly that robots are not human, and accord them more equality than their makers intended. Try establishing a robot quarter in a better district, such as Tenure or Elan, and see what happens.’

He quickly tired of answering questions and called for newspapers, as many as could be found. He immersed himself in these, ignoring for a time the social life around him, but kept Mark V and one or two others by him to fill in the gaps in the news.

It was all much as he had anticipated. The outlook for the Empire was once again precarious. Encouraged by the success of the second Mars venture, Charrane had attempted to follow it up with much more costly interplanetary projects, including the founding of small colonies on the Jovian satellites. He had failed to appreciate that these extravagant gestures should wait until further expansion and consolidation on Earth.