Where the Heart Is

The bundle of lenses pivoted up to take stock of me. “This starport has been maintained solely for your return. All the other missions came back decades ago.”

I felt moisture on my forehead. “What happened to the people? Did—did one of the other starprobes bring back a plague?”

“I will explain,” said Raymo. “First, though, you must tell us about your mission.”

We exited into the lobby. “Why do you want to know?” I could hear an edge on my words.

“You are something new under the sun.”

Something new—? I shrugged. “Two years ship time to get to Zubenelgenubi, two years exploring the system. I found intelligent life—”

“Yes!” An excited robot?

“On a moon of the sixth planet were creatures of liquid light.” I paused, remembering: two suns dancing in the green sky, living streams of gold splashing on the rocks, cascading uphill, singing their lifesongs. There was so much to tell; where to start? I waved my arm vaguely. “The data is in the Terry Fox’s computer banks.”

“You must help us to interface, then. Tell me—”

Enough! “Look, Raymo, I’ve been gone for six years my time. Even a crusty misanthrope like me misses people eventually.”

“Yet almost a century and a half have passed for Earth since you left—”

Across the lobby, I spied a door labeled Station Master’s office. I bounded to it. Locked. I threw my shoulder against it. Nothing. Again. Still nothing. A third time. It popped back on its hinges. I stood on the threshold but did not enter. Inside were squat rows of gleaming computing equipment. My jaw dropped.

Raymo the robot rolled up next to me. “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”

I shuddered. “Is this what’s become of everybody? Replaced by computers?”

“No, Carl. That system is simply one of many in the TerraComp Web.”

“But what’s it for?”

“It is used for a great many things.”

“Used? Used by who?”

“By whom.” A pause. “By all of us. It is the new order.”

I pulled back. My adrenalin was flowing. To my left was the office. In front of me was Raymo, slipping slowly forward on casters. To my right, the lobby. Behind me… I shot a glance over my shoulder. Behind me was—what? Unknown territory. Maybe a way back to the Terry Fox.

“Do not be afraid,” said Raymo.

I began to back away. The robot kept pace with me. The milky tank that made up most of Raymo’s body grew clear again. A lattice of fluorescent lines formed within. Patterns of rainbow lightning flashed in time with my pounding heartbeat. Kaleidoscopic lights swirled, melded, merged. The lights seemed to go on forever and ever and ever, spiraling deeper and deeper and…

“A lot can happen in fourteen decades, Carl.” The multitude that made up Raymo’s voice had taken on a sing-song up-and-down quality. “The world is a better place than it has ever been before.” A hundred mothers soothing a baby. “You can be a part of it.” I knew that my backing was slowing, that I really should be trying to get away, but… but… but… Those lights were so pretty, so relaxing, so… A strobe began to wink in the center of Raymo’s camera cluster. I usually find flashing lights irritating, but this one was so… interesting. I could stare at it forever…

Head over heels sharp jab of pain goddammit! I tripped as I backed, falling away from the lights. Scrabbling to my feet, I shielded my eyes. My fingers curled into a fist. I hauled back and rammed my arm into the center of Raymo’s tank. As the glass shattered, the tank imploded. I ran through the lobby. Pausing at a juncture with two corridors, I looked at my carved and bleeding hand. I rubbed it, winced, and dug out a splinter of glass.

Left? Right? Which way to go? Dammit, it’d been six years since I’d last been in this building. Seemed to me the loading docks were back that way. My stride slowed as I ran, partly due to pain, partly because Raymo was already eating my dust.

“Believe in us, Carl.” The same torrent of voices—but from up ahead. Out of the shadows rolled a second robot cube, identical to Raymo except that this one’s sides glowed with the number 287. I looked over my shoulder. Raymo, sparks spitting from its shattered image tank, had castered into the end of the hallway. Sandwiched. “We have your best interests at heart,” said Raymo.

I shouted: “Where are all the people?” Easy, Carl. Panic’s the last thing you need.

The voices came in stereo now, from robot 287 in front and Raymo in the rear. “The people are here, Carl. All around you.”

“There’s nobody here!” Keep calm—dammit—calm! “What the hell’s going on?”