Chapter 38 (Human imagination is a powerful thing)
Human imagination is a powerful thing. It can be a sanctuary from difficult times, a catalyst to change society, or the impetus to create marvelous works of art. On the other hand, an overabundance of imagination can inspire paranoia that impairs one’s ability to interact with reality.
— Suk School Manual, Psychological Studies
Erasmus said into Anna’s ear, “Do you like my voice? It should sound familiar.”
She paused, hesitated, then gasped. “Hirondo! My darling, is that you?”
The robot was pleased that he had matched it closely enough, and Anna Corrino’s imagination smoothed over any inaccuracies. The Mentat School had access to many records, but without large computer databases, Erasmus had experienced difficulty finding what he needed. Finally, he’d discovered a small report about the scandal at the Imperial Court in which a palace chef had disgraced the Emperor’s sister with their affair. The report had included no more than a snippet of audio — a panicked Hirondo protesting his innocence — which gave Erasmus little to work with. Also, the stress in the young man’s voice had changed the timbre. Erasmus did his best to adjust the pitch.
“I can be part of your memories of Hirondo.” Erasmus spoke in the false voice, trying to manufacture a soothing tone. “I will always be here, right beside you, inside your mind. I’ll never leave you … so you can tell me everything.”
Erasmus was going to enjoy this. And he actually found it … pleasing?… that she responded with such joy. After her ordeal with the sapho-unleashed memories, he found it fascinating to pretend to console her, as a necessary part of satisfying his own curiosity. He could learn many details of humanity from her, a different perspective from what he had learned from Gilbertus over many years, but the next step would be even better, a technological enhancement that would give him a closer, and permanent, connection with her.
The independent robot had spread his tendrils throughout the Mentat School complex, extending his reach even though he had no physical body. Thanks to the many thinking-machine specimens that had been stored in a sealed vault “for study,” Erasmus had raw materials for his use. Over a long, slow period, he had subtly utilized deactivated combat meks, along with isolated computer minds and automated devices, all of which he used to construct hundreds of miniature drone robots.
The first one was the size of a human hand; in turn, that device built a smaller machine, which then constructed an even smaller mechanism. Finally, the drone robots were able to use near-microscopic scraps to reproduce perfect miniaturized copies of themselves. With very little computing power, the drones merely followed the guidance Erasmus transmitted, and they did amazing work threading conduits throughout the buildings, implanting spy-eyes, diverting power and expanding invisible power grids, even dropping tracers onto insects and swamp creatures so that his observation network expanded into the tangled sangroves.
His masterpiece was a tiny implanted device, a new spy-eye and listening device, a tiny silver robot the size of Anna’s smallest fingertip. It didn’t look like a robot at all, but a beautiful insect.
Talking to her through the minuscule speakerpatches near her bed, he explained, “This is my special companion, Anna. It will snuggle inside your ear canal and let us communicate whenever you need to hear from me.”
Trusting him completely, she placed the small silver robot next to her ear, and the insectlike machine crawled inside to where it could touch her auditory nerve and transmit signals. Erasmus wished he could read her thoughts, but this was the next best thing.
“I knew you’d come back to me, Hirondo,” she said, sighing.
“I have always lived within you,” he answered, not wanting to disillusion her. “And now we can be together always. I am your closest, most loyal friend — don’t ever forget that.” He realized that, even though this was all just a grand experiment, the statement might be true — Anna had no other close friends.
Erasmus worried that she would speak aloud to him as she mingled with the Mentat students. But Anna Corrino was already considered odd, and her quiet mutterings would only enhance that impression.
The young woman walked along the corridors and across walkways to the observation deck and looked out at the sangrove thickets that made the near lakeshore an impenetrable maze. “When you’re this close to me, Hirondo, I love you even more. We can remember things together, plan for our future together.”
Erasmus was surprised, but pleased. Love. The human emotion had always eluded him, despite his many attempts to understand its complexities. He and Gilbertus had a relationship of mutual affection in which the human called him “Father,” but that was quite different from the feelings Anna still had for her lost lover. Now Erasmus would have the opportunity to explore the emotion much more closely.
Several nights ago, while spying through the cleverly concealed surveillance system, Erasmus had watched with great interest when Draigo Roget presented his case to Gilbertus. Draigo was like a prodigal son returning home, but it was Gilbertus who had gone astray.…
After the lynching of former machine sympathizers, Erasmus thought Gilbertus might be wise to flee while he was still able to do so. Draigo would make sure the two of them were welcomed among like-minded people. Erasmus feared that the Headmaster could not keep up the façade much longer. But Gilbertus wouldn’t leave his precious school. He seemed to care more for the institution than for his own life.
Whenever the Mentat School celebrated the anniversary of its founding, some students looked back at the records and found images of Headmaster Gilbertus some seventy years earlier — and the head of the school had changed far too little in all that time. Even unobservant humans could detect that, though no one had mentioned it yet. Eventually someone would ask more questions. Erasmus needed to find a way out, long before that happened.…
On the observation platform, Anna began to hum a tune that she said Lady Orenna had sung to her, but Erasmus’s attention was suddenly diverted, jarring him away from his conversation with Anna. Inside the Headmaster’s office, Gilbertus had just removed the memory core from its hidden storage.
Rather than dividing his focus, the robot whispered to Anna through the tiny device in her ear. “I’m going to be quiet for a while so that we can enjoy each other’s company, but I won’t leave you, my darling. I’ll never leave you, I promise.”
Through a spy-eye, Erasmus saw Anna smile as she stared out at the swamps. Then he shunted his awareness to the Headmaster’s office.
GILBERTUS STARED AT the exposed gelsphere and its faint glow. During his years on Corrin, he’d been able to watch the robot’s flowmetal face. Although Erasmus had never been good at mimicking human expressions, Gilbertus could at least interpret his mentor’s mood (though the robot insisted that he had no “moods”).
“I’ve noticed recent changes in the behavior of Anna Corrino,” Gilbertus said. “She talks to herself and smiles more often — something is different about her.”
“I did that,” Erasmus said. “She’s a bright subject, but I’ve nudged her, guided her thoughts. One day, I even gave her sapho.”
The Headmaster hesitated as he processed this revelation. “Sapho? I kept those samples locked in the medical dispensary.”
“I had her remove one vial for an important experiment. Her response was enlightening, and I learned much about her past and her emotions.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. Did you harm her mind?”