Robot Adept (5 page)

He looked. It was a middle-aged serf, apparently one of the caretakers or troubleshooters of this section. He ran it through his brain’s storage bank, and culled a positive reference. The serf was legitimate. “He be an employee, likely assigned to watch lest some minion o’ a Citizen molest us,” he murmured back. “Blue be not one to let us be taken hostage again.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, relaxing. She touched her screen.

Now the game was on. A menu appeared on his screen:

1B5E 9K BAKING BROWNIES

MACH (R) VS AGAPE (A)

1. GENERAL INSTRUCTIONS

2. OPTIONS

3. RECIPE

4. LIST OF INGREDIENTS

5. TERMINATE

“What be ‘R’ and ‘A’?” Bane inquired.

“Robot and android,” she replied.

“But—“

“This is a standard unit. It cannot distinguish between a robot and a human being inhabiting the body of a robot. See, you are also listed as ‘Mach.’ Similarly, it cannot distinguish between an android and an alien; it knows only the distinction between Human, Robot, Android and Cyborg. So I count as an android.”

He smiled. “Yet we be two other people.”

“Two aliens,” she agreed. “From Phaze and Moeba. That is what brought us together.”

“I would not change it.”

“Nor would I.” She returned his smile. They were doing a lot of that, now. “But let’s get cooking.”

“Aye.” He returned his gaze to the screen.
 
He did not understand much of it, so he decided to start at the beginning: GENERAL INSTRUCTIONS.
 
He touched the number 1.

The original menu contracted and retreated to the upper right corner of the screen, evidently remaining functional. New words took over the left and center:

MOST COOKING AND BAKING IS DONE BY REMOTE INSTRUCTION. ALL DIRECTIVES INDICATED ON THE SCREEN WILL BE IMPLEMENTED IN THE ACTIVITY CHAMBER IMMEDIATELY BEYOND THE CONSOLE. IF YOU ARE FAMILIAR WITH YOUR OPTIONS AND RECIPE, PROCEED DIRECTLY TO THE LIST OF INGREDIENTS AND MAKE YOUR SELECTIONS. IF NOT, PROCEED TO 2. OPTIONS.

Well, that was clear enough. Bane touched 2. OPTIONS in the corner. He wondered how Agape was doing. She had come to Proton only a day before he had, but had been better prepared for it.
 
OPTIONS: YOU MAY GO DIRECTLY TO THE LIST OF INGREDIENTS IF THE RECIPE IS ALREADY FAMILIAR.

YOU MAY SPECIFY THE SYSTEM OF MEASUREMENTS EMPLOYED IN THE RECIPE AND LIST OF INGREDIENTS.

YOU MAY SPECIFY A MULTIPLE OF THE STANDARD RECIPE. WARNING: THIS MAY AFFECT THE BAKING TIME AND THE QUALITY OF THE PRODUCT.

YOU MAY SPECIFY VARIANTS OF THE STANDARD INGREDIENTS. WARNING: THIS IS NOT ADVISED FOR NOVICE PRACTITIONERS, AS IT MAY AFFECT THE QUALITY OF THE PRODUCT.

YOU MAY SPECIFY VARIANTS OF OVEN TEMPERATURE AND DURATION. WARNING: THIS MAY AFFECT THE QUALITY OF THE PRODUCT.

The list of options continued, but Bane had seen enough. He decided to stick with the standard recipe and ingredients. He touched 3. RECIPE.

There it was: the listing of the materials that were to go into the production, with brief instructions on integration and processing.

60 GRAMS UNSWEETENED CHOCOLATE

60 CUBIC CENTIMETERS BUTTER

Oops! He was in trouble already! He was not conversant with the metric system used in Proton; he thought in terms of ounces and pounds and cups and quarts.

But he had the solution. He touched OPTIONS again, and when its listing reappeared, he touched SPECIFY SYSTEM OF MEASUREMENTS. A sub listing of measurements options appeared: the various systems used by the other planets and peoples and creatures of the galaxy. That wasn’t much help either!
 
However, there was at the bottom a place for OTHER. He touched that, and when it asked him to PLEASE SPECIFY, he said, “The system used in the Frame o’ Phaze.”

The screen blinked. For a moment he was afraid that this was not a viable choice, but then it replied OLD ENGLISH SYSTEM OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES INVOKED.

Well! This was just about like doing magic in Phaze.

He returned to the RECIPE. Now it listed:

2 OUNCES UNSWEETENED CHOCOLATE

¼ CUP BUTTER

1 CUP SUGAR

2 MEDIUM EGGS

1/8 TEASPOON SALT

½ CUP WHEAT FLOUR

½ CUP WALNUT FRAGMENTS

1 TEASPOON VANILLA FLAVORING

This he was able to make some sense of. He glanced across at Agape, and saw that her activity chamber was in operation: things were happening in a lighted box in her section of the wall.

He read the assembly instructions. He was supposed to melt the chocolate and butter together, then stir in the other ingredients. He should be able to manage.
 
He touched 4. LIST OF INGREDIENTS. This turned out to be the master list of everything available.
 
There were dozens of types of chocolates, and similar variety for the others.

He returned to INSTRUCTIONS and read beyond the point he had before. Sure enough, it mentioned that there were several types of options, including automatic selection of standard variants. He went to OPTIONS, found the place, and touched STANDARD VARIANTS. Then he returned to INGREDIENTS.

Now the listing was much contracted. There was only one type of chocolate. He touched that, and the screen inquired QUANTITY? followed by a graduated scale of measurements. He touched the scale at the two ounce point.

Now his activity chamber came to life. Two ounces of chocolate landed in its floor.

Um. Perhaps he had overlooked another instruction.
 
He reviewed, and found it: he needed a container. He specified one of suitable capacity, then specified in a SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS option that the available chocolate be placed in the container. The chamber turned dark, then lighted again: the chocolate was in the pan. The mess on the chamber floor had been removed.

He added the butter, then instructed the chamber to heat it to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.

Almost immediately the mixture started boiling violently. Goo splatted on the window of the chamber.
 
Oops!

He turned off the heat and reviewed his general instructions and his recipe. He discovered that at this stage he was only supposed to heat enough to melt the chocolate and butter, not to bake it. He decided to start over.

ERROR the screen blazoned. It seemed that he had to make do with what he had; no second starts. He should have known; no one would ever let any mistakes stand if restarts were permitted. He could have gotten in trouble with his first loss of chocolate; evidently the system tolerated that amount of spillage.
 
Meanwhile, Agape’s project was well along. She might be an alien creature, but she had a much better notion of cooking than he did!

His start was a mess, but a good deal of the chocolate/ butter solution had been saved. He marked 100° F heat, and got the degree of melt he needed. Then, following instructions, he stirred in the remaining ingredients.
 
The sugar was no problem, but the eggs were in translucent packages, and he had to do spot research to discover how to open these by remote control. He managed to bungle it, getting half an egg splattered across the outside of the pan.

When he had everything stirred in, he had a rather thick brown mass in the pan. Now he set the heat for 400° F and let it bake for a nominal half-hour. Actually it didn’t take that long; the game computer used microwave energy to do the equivalent in just a few minutes, because otherwise the booth would be tied up too long for each game and would not be able to accommodate all the game players.

The two finished products were brought out, and for the first time Bane and Agape could smell and touch their brownies.

His was burned, so dry and hard that it would be a real effort to consume it. Hers was underdone, resembling a pudding; she had evidently set the heat too low, and perhaps included some fluid by mistake.
 
“Who wins?” he asked.

“We can get the machine to judge,” she said unhappily.

“Nay, no need,” he decided. “Thy concoction resembles thee: amoebic. I like it best.”

“But yours resembles you,” she countered. “All leather and metal. I like it best.”

“We’ll eat each other’s,” he said. “We both have won.”

“We both have won,” she echoed, smiling.
 
They leaned into each other and kissed again. Then they had the machine pack their wares in plastic bags, so that they could leave the booth for the next players.
 
As they departed, both their activity chambers were in chaos; the game computer was trying to get them clean, and on this occasion that was a considerable challenge.
 
They retired to the private chamber they now shared, and opened the bags. Bane took a bite of pudding, but found it tasteless. This was not because it lacked taste, but because his body, having no need for food, had no taste sensors. What he chewed and swallowed went to a stomach receptacle that he could evacuate subsequently, either by vomiting or by opening a panel and removing the soiled unit. Eating was a superfluous function for a robot, but the ability had been incorporated in order to enable him to seem completely human. He was glad of it; he wanted to reassure her by eating what she had baked. Digestibility was irrelevant.
 
Her mode of eating differed. She set the brownie lump on the table, leaned over it, and let her top part melt. Her features blurred and became puddingy, indeed resembling the consistency of what she had baked.
 
She drooped onto the food, her flesh spreading over and around it. Her digestive acids infiltrated it, breaking it down, and gradually the mound subsided. When all of it had been reduced to liquid and absorbed into her substance, she lifted her flesh from the table. Her head formed, and her shoulders and arms and breasts. Her eyes developed, and her ears and nose and mouth, assuming their appropriate configurations and colors. She had a human aspect again.

“I hope it doesn’t poison thee,” Bane said, not entirely humorously.

“It was solid and burned, but not inedible,” she reassured him. “You made it; that is all I need to know.”

He took her in his arms. “I have never before known a creature like thee.”

“I should hope not,” she said. “I am the only Moebite on this planet.”

“I wish I could love thee in thy natural form.”

“I have no natural form,” she reminded him. “I am merely protoplasm. I assume whatever shape pleases you.”

“And I am pleased by them all. I never loved an alien amoeba before.”

“And I never loved a terrestrial vertebrate before. But—“

“Say it not!” he protested. “I know we must part, but fain would I delude myself that this moment be forever.”

“If we continue speaking of this, I will melt,” she warned him.

“And thou leave me, I may melt,” he said.
 

“Perhaps, when I am safe among my own kind, you could visit?” she asked hesitantly.

“Let me go with thee now!”

“No, you must remain, and communicate with your apposite self, and return to your own frame. Our association is only an interlude.”

“Only an interlude,” he repeated sadly.
 
“But we can make it count. Tell me what to do, and I shall do it for you.”

She was not being facetious. She had come to Proton to learn human ways, including especially the human mode of sexual interplay, because the Moebites wanted to work toward bisexual reproduction. They understood the theory of it, but not the practice. They believed that their species development was lagging because they lacked the stimulus of two-sex replication, and they wanted to master it.

But in the pursuit of this quest, Agape had run afoul of another aspect of such reproduction: she had fallen in love. Now she had much of the information, but lacked the desire to return to her home world and demonstrate it to others of her kind. She wanted only to remain with Bane.

Now that it was feasible to do, Bane found that he had lost the desire for sexual activity. Part of it might have been her sheer accommodation; no challenge remained, when she was completely willing and malleable. But most of it was his foolish gut feeling that once Agape had learned all that he might teach her in this regard, there would be no need for her to remain with him. Thus he wanted to conserve the experience rather than expending it, to keep her with him longer. He knew this was nonsensical, but it unmanned him for the moment.

“Let’s play another game,” he said.

She gazed at him in surprise. “Another game? But I thought—“

“Thou didst think rightly! But I—I find I be not ready. I want to experience more things with thee, a greater variety, while I may. I want to build up a store o’ precious memories. Or something. I know not exactly what I want, only that I want it to be with thee.”

“I see I have much to learn yet about the human condition,” she said, perplexed.

“Nay, it be not thee, but me,” he reassured her.
 
“Only accept that I love thee, and let the rest be confused.”

She spread her hands in a careful human gesture.