"That is indeed gratifying," Appleford acknowledged, "but I'm afraid I would have to know _why_ your principal wishes to sequester the documents pertaining to the Anarch." He felt tense; something about the roby put his psychological defenses into operation.
The roby rose to its metal feet; leaning forward, it deposited a host of documents on Appleford's desk. "In answer to your query I respectfully insist that you examine those."
Carl Gantrix, by means of the video circuit of the robot's system, treated himself to a leisurely inspection of the assistant librarian Douglas Appleford as that individual plowed through the wearying stack of deliberately obscure pseudo-documents which the robot had presented.
The bureaucrat in Appleford had been ensnared by the bait; his attention distracted, the librarian had become oblivious to the robot and to its actions. Therefore, as Appleford read, the robot expertly slid its chair back and to the left side, close to a reference card case of impressive proportions. Lengthening its right arm, the robot crept its manual grippers of fingeroid shape into the nearest file of the case; this Appleford did of course not see, and so the robot then continued with its assigned task. It placed a miniaturized nest of embryonic robots, no larger than pinheads, within the card file, then a tiny find-circuit transmitter behind a subsequent card, then at last a potent detonating device set on a three-day command circuit.
Watching, Gantrix grinned. Only one construct remained in the robot's possession, and this now appeared briefly as the robot, eying Appleford sideways and cautiously, edged its extensor once more toward the file, transferring this last bit of sophisticated hardware from its possession to the Library's.
"Purp," Appleford said, without raising his eyes.
The code signal, received by the aud chamber of the file, activated an emergency release; the file closed in upon itself in the manner of a bivalve seeking safety. Collapsing, the file retreated into the wall, burying itself out of sight. And at the same time it ejected the constructs which the robot had placed inside it; the objects, expelled with electronic neatness, bounced in a trajectory which deposited them at the robot's feet, where they lay in clear view.
"Good heavens," the robot said involuntarily, taken aback.
Appleford said, "Leave my office immediately." He raised his eyes from the pseudo-documents, and his expression was cold. As the robot reached down to retrieve the now-exposed artifacts he added, "And leave those items here; I want them subjected to lab analysis regarding purpose and source." He reached into the top drawer of his desk, and when his hand emerged it held a weapon.
In Carl Gantrix's ears the phone-cable voice of the robot buzzed. "What should I do, sir?"
"Leave presently." Gantrix no longer felt amused; the fuddyduddy librarian was equal to the probe, was capable in fact of nullifying it. The contact with Appleford would have to be made in the open, and with that in mind Gantrix reluctantly picked up the receiver of the vidphone closest to him and dialed the Library's exchange.
A moment later he saw, through the video scanner of the robot, the librarian Douglas Appleford picking up his own phone in answer.
"We have a problem," Gantrix said. "Common to us both. Why, then, shouldn't we work together?"
Appleford answered, "I'm aware of no problem." His voice held ultimate calmness; the attempt by the robot to plant hostile hardware in his work area had not ruffled him. "If you want to work together," he added, "you're off to a bad start."
"Admittedly," Gantrix said. "But we've had difficulty in the past with you librarians." Your exalted position, he thought; protected by the Erads and all. But he did not say it. "There is, in the wealth of material--accurate and inaccurate--one particular piece of info that we lack, that we are particularly anxious to acquire. The rest..." He hesitated, then gambled. "I'll put you in mind of that fact, and perhaps you can direct us to a source by which to verify it. _Where is the Anarch Peak buried?_"
"God only knows," Appleford said.
"Somewhere in your books, articles, religious pamphlets, city records--"
."Our job here at the Library," Appleford said, "is not to study and/or memorize data; it is to expunge it."
There was silence.
"Well," Gantrix admitted, "you've stated your position with clarity and admirable brevity. So we're to assume that that fact, the location of the Anarch's body, has been expunged; as a f act it no longer exists."
"It has undoubtedly been unwritten," Appleford said. "Or at least such is a reasonable presumption... and in accord with Library policy."
Gantrix said, "And you won't even check. You won't research it, even for a sizeable donation." Bureaucracy, he thought; it maddened him; it was insane.
"Good day, Mr. Gantrix," the librarian said, and hung up.
For a time Carl Gantrix sat in silence, keeping himself inert. Controlling his emotions.
He at last picked up the vidphone receiver once more and this time dialed the Free Negro Municipality. "I want to speak to the Very Honorable Ray Roberts," he told the operator in Chicago.
"That party can only be reached by--"
"I have the necessary code," Gantrix said, and thereupon divested himself of it. He felt weary and defeated... and he dreaded Ray Roberts' reaction. But we can't give up, he realized. We knew from the start that that bureaucrat Appleford wouldn't research the matter for us; we knew we'd have to break into the Library and do it ourselves.
That fact is there in the Library somewhere, he said to himself. That's probably the _only_ place it is, the only source from which we can get that information.
And there was not much time left, according to Ray Roberts' arcane calculations. The Anarch Peak would be returning to life any day, now.
It was a highly dangerous situation.
4
If, therefore, God existed, there would be no evil discoverable; but there is evil in the world. Therefore God does not exist.
--St. Thomas Aquinas
As soon as the roby Carl Gantrix Junior had cleared out of his office, Doug Appleford pressed the intercom button which connected him with his superior, Chief Librarian Mavis McGuire.
"You know what just now happened?" he said. "Someone representing that Udi cult got a robot in here and began planting hostile hardware all over my office. It has left." He added, "Possibly I should have called the city police. Technically, I still could; the scanner I keep in here recorded the incident, so We have the evidence if we want to seek recourse."
Mavis had her usual accosting, bleak expression, the dead-calm quality which generally preceded a tirade. Especially at this time of day--early in the morning--she was most irritable.
Over the years Appleford had learned to live with her, so to speak. As an administrator she was superb. She had energy; she was accurate; she always--and rightly so--assumed final authority; he had never known Mavis to pass the poscred back, when it was handed to her... as in this case. Never in his most distorted dreams had he envisioned trying to supplant her; he knew, rationally and coldly, that he did not possess her ability; he had enough talent to act as her subordinate--and do the job well--but that was all. He respected her and he was afraid of her, a lethal combination in regard to any aspirations he might have had to seek a rung higher in the Library's hierarchy. Mavis McGuire was the boss and he liked it that way; he liked it now, being able to drop this into her lap.
Mavis said, her mouth twisting, "Udi. That abomination. Yes; I realize Ray Roberts is making a pile out here; I expected they'd come sniThng around here. I assume you expelled the hostile hardware."