He could try to move out, bringing back the regular hens. But if she had caught on to him, she would have set new monitors, and the attempt would be foiled. Perhaps she only suspected—and was waiting for something mat would con firm her idea, without making an issue. This was her kind of subtlety. Troubot had decided to stand pat; Merle would ei ther expose him, or she would not, as her whim dictated. This last session had been the worst. Before, she had merely looked in on the flock; this time she had joined it. He had fashioned each part to resemble a specific hen, but could not pass more than a cursory inspection. His hope had been based on the assumption that the Citizen would pay no more atten tion to her hens than she had in the past. This change in her attitude was alarming. And for her to speak so openly and clearly of her history with Stile and Blue, and of his own disappearance . . .
There was little doubt now: she knew. He was surely at her mercy—which was perhaps where she wanted him to be. Why had she taken so much trouble to explain things to him? He had known of the intensity of the search, but had not known of this extra element. He had been chosen to represent Citizen Blue in a key Game-match? That was an amazing development. If it was true, he should certainly come forth and do what he could, because his association with Nepe had also put him firmly on her side, and therefore Blue’s side. But was it true? How could he be sure that Merie, for reasons of her own, was not teasing him, so that he might expose himself and fall into the wrong hands? If she did not want to betray Blue openly—because, as she so candidly put it, she hoped to arrange another sexual liaison with him—but actu ally sympathized with the other side, this could be a way. If that were her plan, the best thing he could do would be to sit tight, refusing to reveal himself. That would force her to do her own dirty work, and pay the penalty. Troubot was sure that Merle had no concern at all for his welfare, but only hoped to use him in some fashion to her advantage. But if what she said was true, and he did not come forth, Citizen Blue could lose his match by default. Probably the Citizens had selected Troubot in part because of this. They hoped that Troubot would not trust the summons, and so would serve their objective.
Troubot did not have feelings in the living sense, but he was a sophisticated self-willed machine who could react emo tionally when applicable circuits were set up and invoked. In the course of his association with Nepe, he had set up such circuits, and felt a reasonable facsimile of friendship for her, and loyalty to the principles she had adopted. Thus there was an emotional component involved, which he could cut out, but only at the cost of his feeling for Nepe. He did not like to do that, because his feeling toward Nepe was the only thing that really distinguished him from an ordinary self-willed machine. He knew that if he voided that circuit, he would be unlikely to re-invoke it later, because his nature would be changed; he simply would not care any more. It would be like death in a living creature. So he retained the circuit—and so he suffered now this agony of indecision. He knew he wanted to help Nepe and her grandfather Blue; he did not know in what way he best could do that. Should he believe Merle, or doubt her?
He lacked the circuitry to resolve such a conflict. He was not, after all, the Oracle, whose nature was more sophisti cated than that of any other machine. He was not even similar to Sheen, or Mach; he was just an ordinary self-willed robot who had been influenced by long and close association with a living alien child who understood robots because her father was one. Perhaps that had made him unusual among ma chines, but it did not provide him with superior intellectual competence. He had modified his body and his emotion, but his intellect was locked in to what it had been at the start. He had been smart at the start—too smart, for a machine, and therefore out of tolerance—but he had never been able to approach Nepe’s level.
So he waited, doing nothing. He let his components sep arate, and reverted to the lesser state that was not the sum of his parts. As six units he was conscious, but unable to utilize his full mental capacity; too much of it had been distributed to the others, to make them separately functional. As Hen ingway, he possessed the main awareness, and could make decisions, but was hesitant to without being able to draw on his full complement. He pecked up a seed, which he could not digest, biding his time.
Soon Merie returned. “Well, chickens,” she said brightly. “I have just called Blue, and prevailed on him to appear here within the hour, alone. Would you like me to enable you to witness my bit of sport with him?”
Troubot tried to reason whether he should make a response. If she did not know his nature, he did not want to give it away, but his brief mergence with his other parts had enabled him to think more comprehensively, and he had concluded that she did know; therefore there was no point in hiding from her. He did want to see Citizen Blue, because he understood that that was a man he could trust and possibly find sanctuary with. So he should make a positive response; that seemed clear enough.
He stepped forward, making one cluck.
“Well, now, Heningway! You are becoming positively literary!” she exclaimed, pleased. In the course of his researches he had encountered a name that resembled the one she had bestowed on this hen; perhaps she was making a pun. “Very well, I shall do it. He will be here within the half hour; I shall go change, and a servitor will install appropriate furniture here.” She looked sternly at the hens. “Do not drop anything untoward on it!”
She exited. In a moment a rolling transport brought in a couch that looked much like a bed. Then the machine set up a baffle that consisted of a curtain, so that the couch was concealed from the view of the main coop. Troubot reassembled his units, touching beaks, so he could ponder this development. It seemed obvious that Merle in tended to seduce Citizen Blue in exchange for the information about Troubot’s location. Was this proper? He doubted it, but was not certain of his proper response. He knew that if he were alive, he would resent being used this way; as it was, he merely noted it, and disbanded, making no decision. As scheduled. Merle returned, wearing a voluminous mock-fur coat, escorting Citizen Blue, who was in his usual blue cloak. She turned to close and secure the door behind them. “There—now we are secure,” she said. “This is the only chamber where I am assured that no monitors are active; no one can eavesdrop on us here except my flock of chickens, and they really do not pass judgments.”
Blue ignored the hens. “Merle, thou didst say thou hadst something important for me.”
“Indeed I do,” she said. “You may remember our tryst of some years back. I have a hunger for something similar.”
He frowned. “I be married now.”
“To a machine.”
“Aye. But still married. Thou knowest how I feel about this matter. I have problems enough without—”
“I love it when you talk Phazish!”
Blue paused. “I revert to it unconsciously when under stress. I apologize. Now I assume you did not call me here to waste my time and yours. What do you really have on your mind?”
Merle opened her coat, then slid out of it. She was nude beneath, of course. “I just told you. Blue.”
“Impossible!” he snapped.
“By no means, my bantam lover. See, I have prepared.”
She drew the curtain, revealing the couch.
“What makes you think I would indulge you at this time?” he asked, openly irritated.
“Suppose I were to say that I had information you very much wanted, for a price?”
“The only information I want is—“ He paused. “You know—?”
“Where Troubot is. Yes, I believe I do, bantam. And I might even tell you. Would that information be worth the price?”