“Here?” Nepe asked, startled. “I thought we were going to go find him!”
“We may be. Please answer the question.”
“But there’s no one here but—“ Her eyes fell on the hens, and went abruptly round. “Gosh! It is!” She jumped down and ran to the little flock. She plumped down on the ground and opened her arms, trying to hug all the hens at once. “How clever of you, Troubot! You even had me fooled!”
“But how can you be sure?” Merle asked.
“He’s my friend! I’d know him anywhere, if I looked.”
Merle smiled.. “You must pardon those of us who lack your ability. How can we be sure?”
Nepe considered. “We have a secret code that only the two of us know. Let me tell it to you, and he will respond to you only when you use it.”
“Fair enough,” Merle said.
Nepe got up, went to the woman, and whispered some thing. Then Merle spoke to the two men, who had remained passive. “Agree among yourselves when I should give the code, and see whether the response is there.” Translucent shrugged, and brought out a stylus and pad. He wrote something, then tore off the sheet and passed it to Merle. Blue brought out a similar pad and made a note, also passing it to Merle. She looked at each, then folded them, smiling. “Each of you has written a number, and the one modifies the other. I shall use the result, which neither of you know.”
She faced the hens. “Troubot, here is the code: three, fifteen, one.”
Troubot did not respond. The code was numeric, but she had the wrong numbers.
“Troubot,” she said again, “here is the code: nine, twenty nine, ninety-nine.”
Again he did not respond.
“Troubot, here is the code: four, four, four to the fourth power, forever four.”
That was it: Nepe’s age when they had met, formed into a cherished memory. Heningway clucked, and the others came together to huddle. They formed their pattern in front of Merle, all beaks touching.
“We seem to have a response,” Merie said. “Is it the right time?”
“I wrote the number six,” Translucent said.
“I divided by two,” Blue said.
“Indeed you did,” Merle agreed. “And six divided by two is three; I gave the code the third time. This test may have been crude, but seems indicative. Are we satisfied?” They looked at the flock, which was clustered around Nepe again. They were satisfied.
Troubot assembled himself, removing the fleshly vestments and becoming a single entity again. Now he could function fully. They took down his stats: the part numbers of his components and the electrical pattern of his brain circuitry, so there could be no subsequent confusion about his identity. Then Translucent and Nepe left, and Citizen Blue took Trou bot with him. Merle was left to recover her hens from the quarantine chamber.
It was good being legitimate again, the doubt gone. But now he had a new responsibility: to represent Citizen Blue in a contest that was already partly lost. If he lost the game, Blue was done for. Troubot had never before played a Game, though he was familiar with its rules. He understood that his opponent Tsetse had not played either, but still it seemed doubtful. The matchup was too odd, for stakes too high. Citizen Blue gave him access to the information net, and he spent the night reviewing strategies of the grid, and check ing the course of past games. He was as ready as he could be, considering that he had not been designed for this en deavor.
Tsetse entered the chamber after Troubot had taken his place at the console. He was a machine, but he had learned to catalogue living folk according to their physical esthetics by human definition, and she was what was best described as luscious. He had of course researched her stats, and learned that she was of average intelligence and creativity and per sonality, and below average in motivation; only her outstand ing body displaced her from the ordinary. He would do well to engage her in a mental game, where he should have an advantage. But she would seek to avoid this, being property coached. In fact, she might well seek to avoid all games of skill, and go for CHANCE, making the issue random. This might indeed be the Citizens’ best strategy; if they won, they won everything, while if they lost, they would still be even. He had the letters. That meant he could not put it into the MENTAL arena. He was already a machine, so would have less advantage than she by drawing on the powers of a ma chine; the same went for tools. The animal category had po tential complications he preferred to avoid. This being the case, he went for the simplest: NAKED.
To his relief, she too selected the simplest: PHYSICAL. It would be just the two of them, with their own unaugmented abilities.
For the secondary grid he had the numbers. Again he chose the simplest: SEPARATE. That meant that they would do, essentially, their own things, not being dependent on each other. A foot race was separate, while a game of tag was interactive. Of course she could get him in trouble by her choice of surface: if she chose a water contest, he would have difficulty. He could modify his body to move in water, but this might not be permitted. She, in contrast, had a body that seemed designed by nature for swimming. However, he had found no reference to swimming in her record, and hoped that she was of the type who went to the water only for appearances.
She chose Variable Surface, again to his relief. He might have to navigate a slope, but that was easier than dealing with water. He would try to line up good options, and hope for the best on the tertiary grid.
She made the first placement, and Sand Dunes appeared in the center. Sand was another prospect he did not relish; his wheels would lose traction in it.
He put Maze Path in the top row, center. That brought a mental element into it, giving him the advantage. She put Snow Bank in the upper left comer. There was another problem for him: snow. She had been well enough rehearsed, and was playing correctly.
He countered with Limestone Cliff in the lower right cor ner. He could project points to grip the rock and climb well enough, while she should have more trouble. She put Glass Mountain in the upper right comer. That was mixed, for him; the glass would be too hard for his points, but his wheels could get traction when it was dry. He put Tight Rope in the left column, down one. As a machine, he could achieve almost perfect balance, and his wheels could remain firm on the rope, while the woman might become highly unstable.
She put Greased Hills in the bottom left column. That was a mistake on her part; he could handle grease by poking his points through to the sand beneath.
He put Cross Country in the center of the third column, then realized that he should have put it in the bottom center column, giving him three good choices in the bottom row. She filled in the last box with Dust Slide. He liked dust no better than snow; that spoiled that row for him. Now the grid was complete.
TERTIARY GRID: 1A5F
Physical Naked Separate, Variable Surface
Snow Bank Maze Path Glass Mm
Tight Rope Sand Dunes Cross Country
Greased Hills Dust Slide Limestone
He had the choice of rows or columns. He chose the rows. She would figure him to take the middle row, because two of his choices were there, so she should choose the center col umn, to stick him with Sand Dunes. Therefore he chose the top row.
But she, for what reason he might never understand, had selected the third column. The result was Glass Mountain: one of her choices, but really not bad for him. They adjourned to the mountain. As true mountains went, this was small, but as inner-dome artifacts went, it was big. The mountain was indeed formed of glass, or at least had a glass exterior. It was broad at the base, and slanted up to a peak about ten meters high. It was ridged and channeled, with many facets and some almost vertical cliffs which rep resented impassable barriers to naked—i.e., bare-handed—folk. Its contours were changed for each game, so that there was no point in memorizing its outline. It was normally so constructed that a person could not simply pick a gentle slope and mount to the top; he had to ascertain, usually by trial and error, which route was feasible, and do it before his opponent did. The first one to the top was the winner. This was “separate”; that meant that one player could not directly interfere with the other, such as by shoving him off the mountain. But the categories were seldom pristine; there was inevitably some interaction, as when one player got to the best route before the other and so forced the other either to follow behind or to choose another route. In this case there was an added fillip: water bombs. These were little balloons filled with water which, when burst against the glass, made it too slippery for progress. A player could take as many bombs as he could hold, and use them to reduce the friction of the path his opponent had chosen. The effect lasted only a few seconds, but could make the difference when both were racing toward the top on different paths. Troubot feared that his wheels would be more susceptible to slipperiness than Tsetse’s feet, because she could step over wet spots while he could not. But he had greater capacity to hold water bombs. He could fill his hopper with them, while she could carry only what she could hold in her arms. Still, he did not know how agile she was, or what the best route was. This was still anybody’s game. The audience evidently thought so; the monitor lights indicated a massive viewing, which could not be accounted for solely by the importance of the contest.