But that was small consolation for the loss of Gilbertus, and very probably the end of the Mentat School; the teachings would either be banned or drastically altered by the foolish Butlerians. He still experienced great confusion, a turmoil in his thought processes that was completely unfamiliar to him. For centuries he had strived to understand emotions, but now that he had a better grasp, the independent robot found that he didn’t like them at all.
Erasmus felt deeply disturbed. He thought back to the day before, when Draigo’s scout ship had raced to the covert spacefolder in orbit over Lampadas. Even from there, the robot had continued to observe through his linked network of spy-eyes, but without his usual analytical detachment. He’d felt unsettled curiosity as he watched his dedicated ward kneel down amidst the jeering barbarians, in full view of the Mentat school. This sense of loss was not strictly quantifiable.
Erasmus had rescued the young man from slave pens on Corrin, mentoring Gilbertus and treating him exceptionally well. He had changed the slave boy’s life, and his own. Both had grown from the experience.
And it had all culminated in the horrific scene on Lampadas. Surrounded by rabid Butlerians, Gilbertus had bowed his head and closed his eyes. Interestingly, his expression had been filled with remarkable contentment, enviable peace. A smile had even curled his lips at the last moment. Erasmus did not understand.
Then the Swordmaster had lopped off his head, extinguishing a fine and efficient mind.
Upon seeing the death of his student, his protector, and his friend, a jolt had gone through the robot’s gelcircuitry — a blinding flash that made him unable to process for a moment. In what seemed like an eternity, everything changed for Erasmus, as if the fundamental laws of reality had become different. He had not expected this at all.
Erasmus had seen countless humans die in the centuries of his life, many of them at his own hands, but he had never previously felt anything similar to this. Gilbertus was gone! The companion who had been such an interesting debater, such an avid learner, such a … such a caring, protective friend. Gone. Dead. Murdered! This could not be repaired. Gilbertus could not be replaced. Erasmus had never before experienced such a sharp, painful loss.
Something shifted in his malleable programming. Erasmus could not be cool and objective; rather, he felt dismay, disgust, and anger. And then with a cascade of realizations, data linking to data, he had another epiphany, a completely unexpected insight, another breathless revelation. He had an answer that he had been trying to find for more than two centuries.
Was this what had driven Serena Butler into such an irrational, hateful rage when he threw her noisy, crying child off a balcony? Incandescent, helpless rage and loss? Now he thought he grasped what had produced her immediate blind reaction. It all made sense in a way that it never had before. He understood the spark that had ignited the Jihad, with all of its tremendous consequences.
Gilbertus was gone. The Butlerians had killed him. His mind surged with countless reactions, all of them dark, violent, vengeful.
And now he brought those feelings with him to Denali.
Although Erasmus kept track of the different factions of humanity, especially the machine sympathizers and antitechnology fanatics, he now experienced actual loathing and hatred toward the people who had harmed the human who had become the equivalent of a son to him.
Yes. From all of his studies, that must be the sensation he was experiencing. Hatred. Along with unquantifiable sadness at watching the blood spill out and Gilbertus’s headless body collapse to the ground.
Erasmus despised Manford Torondo. Erasmus grieved for Gilbertus, who had given his life to preserve his beloved school. Those violent savages had destroyed it all. Erasmus felt strong resentment at the unfairness of the situation. Unfairness. These new thoughts and emotions were fascinating to him, and quite unpleasant. They threatened to overwhelm his circuitry.
Gilbertus was dead! And the robot decided he would have to do something about that.…
Draigo Roget and Anna Corrino were tense and frightened as they descended to cloud-swirled Denali. Sitting on the edge of a passenger bench, Anna removed her package with the robot’s core, unfolded the wrappings, and showed the gelsphere to Draigo. After measuring the Mentat’s expression, Erasmus could tell that Draigo was awed and intrigued.
The Mentat said, “Anna, I’m taking you and the robot to a safe haven, away from politics and fanatics. Directeur Venport established this place as a refuge where the greatest minds could create the best defenses to save civilization. These researchers will find the robot’s memory core infinitely fascinating.”
Erasmus spoke into the transceiver hidden in Anna’s ear, and she repeated his words aloud. “Erasmus is confident that we will find the Denali research center just as fascinating as they find him.”
“This is not a pleasant world,” Draigo cautioned, “quite unlike the Imperial capital on Salusa. And dangerous, with a poisonous atmosphere — you can’t go outside the domes without special protective gear.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, “as long as I can stay with Erasmus.”
During their journey, the robot had reviewed his stored memories of Gilbertus Albans, and had made projections of his growing friendship with Anna Corrino. Yes, he cared for her, as well. He would be greatly angered and saddened if she were to die, too.
He also analyzed his undeniable fury toward the Butlerians, a genuine sense of raw outrage. It was fascinating to channel his thoughts in new and untried pathways, human pathways. He had urged Gilbertus to leave Lampadas well before the Butlerian menace grew out of hand. Now he could only think of going back there to destroy the fanatics in their nest.
That would require some planning.…
Draigo piloted the craft down toward a complex of domed buildings. Although the equipment inside this vessel was primitive by thinking-machine standards, the robot could still use it, so he accessed the ship’s sensors, and scanned the poisonous vapors until he discerned the laboratory complex and habitation modules. Down there, the domes were filled with rational objective scientists who hated the barbarians as much as Erasmus did — and he would find them useful.
There were many new possibilities. Maybe the Denali scientists could even create a new body for him. Surely they had the resources. He would convince Anna Corrino to speak on his behalf, and then his situation would improve a great deal. Yes, many things could soon change.
When the ship settled onto the landing zone outside the reconstructed hangar dome, Erasmus was overjoyed to see the welcoming party that emerged to meet them. Anna Corrino pressed close to a side windowport, peering at the movement through the murky air.
Four cymek walkers strode toward the shuttle, armored warrior forms like giant mechanical crabs, with pistons pumping and strong legs driving them forward. They were powerful, ominous, threatening — absolutely wonderful!
Erasmus hadn’t seen cymeks for a long time, and these appeared to be new and efficient.
The most fearsome one spoke. “I am Ptolemy, head of the new Titan project. Welcome to Denali.” Half a dozen more cymek forms emerged from the swirling, poisonous mists. “We are preparing an army.”
Erasmus scanned the giant mechanical forms and realized he looked forward to what this place had to offer. If he, the cymeks, and sympathetic humans worked together, they could accomplish great things.