Chrome George Nader

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.I hurried down to the Cabin.The surface of the pool was still a little choppy, and wet footprints led toward the interior.Vortex had evidently just finished his swim.Looking expectantly for mail on the table in the main room, I found only a, printed postcard acknowledging receipt of the form I had filled in and returned about the Hover-Jag.I studied it closely; there was nothing extra on it.No star-sign.“In need of glasses, Chrome?”I jumped guiltily at Vortex’s sudden question.Had they, in truth, exchanged him? I couldn’t tell from that distance.“No, my King, only interested in whether they print these or electroflash them.It’s hard to tell the difference.”Under the pretext of holding the card up for him to see, I moved in closer to have a good look at him.“If you’re trying to see where they screwed on my new head,” he said, “you can stop.It’s hidden, under my wig.A little trapdoor they can open to replace worn-out power-cells.” He smiled a bit.“It is.Didn’t you know? Put your hand under in back; you can feel where it’s fastened.Go ahead, Chrome.”“My King.”He knew how much I wanted to touch him, how hard I was fighting not to.And he was going to make me do it.“I said to go ahead, Chrome.See for yourself, and be thorough while you’re at it.Use both hands.”He stared down at me no longer smiling.I tightened my jaw muscles, put the postcard in my shirt pocket, and raised my hands.He must not have gone all the way into the pool because his hair was dry.My fingers worked up from the base of his skull but felt only his firm unbroken scalp and the soft strong strands of his hair.He bent closer as if to accommodate my search.His lips were near enough now so that if I let my hands have their way.“Well, Chrome?”Those eyes had never left mine.They were reading everything I felt, and now they mocked me, dared me to let my hands bring us together.“Exploration reveals nothing unusual.King Vortex is joking with me.”I said it as lightly as possible and jammed my hands deep into my trouser pockets.“The doctors were satisfied with your work this time, Chrome,” Vortex said.“They seem to feel progress is being made once more.For my part, I’ll be pleased if you remember to shave tomorrow morning.”He turned and was gone.In my rush to be out and away I had skipped shaving that morning, and, whether a human or a genetically programmed being, Vortex didn’t like it.I walked to my quarters with a feeling of hopelessness.Still no sign from Jamison.Had he forgotten our pact, or, worse.?* * *Next morning I went through my exercises and showered, worrying, picturing details of how Jamison might have failed.Glumly I picked up the fresh towel covering my shaving equipment and almost shouted with excitement and relief.Placed under the towel was a star, formed by folding and tearing a piece of blue wrapping paper from the laundry.By the Gods, he had gotten through! He’d made it! That glimpse of golden hair, my madman friend, Jamison, had smuggled himself out here to make sure I got this symbol.!Then the slow, dry scraping of fear down my spine as I saw the roughly lettered message on the star:ROBOT + LOVE = DEATH!!Now Jamison, too, was warning me—and risking his life to do it.How I expected to follow my morning routine, I don’t know.While shaving I started to tremble.Like an idiot I kept going and sliced my neck so badly it wouldn’t stop bleeding.Staunching the flow of blood with a towel pressed against the cut, I carefully hid the paper star and its warning and went to seek advice from Vortex.He came striding out of his quarters like some idealized young God as I straggled out of mine.His eyes widened as he saw me.“I asked you to shave, not cut your throat! What happened?”“It won’t stop,” I answered stupidly.He stared at me for a second, then nodded at the towel.“Take it away long enough for me to see.”I did.“Put it back before you bleed to death,” he snapped.“And pay attention.There’s some medicinal foam labeled ‘Syntho-Stearate B’ out in the massage cabinet drawer.Put some on and cover it with a piece of tape.” Walking back in a preoccupied way toward his quarters, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll be out later to see if you survive!”Hardly tender concern, but I didn’t expect any from him.I went out and pulled open the cabinet drawer.One of the birds ruffled itself, eyed the bloodied towel I held pressed to my neck, and uttered a series of questioning noises.“Tried to hang myself and the rope broke.Why?” I told it acidly, and rather surprised myself.After all, it wasn’t the stupid bird’s fault.Yes, and here was that cursed paper with the name “Abd H’Lokk-Mond H’Zum” neatly lettered on it by the other idiot Cadet.A thought struck me; unobtrusively I palmed the piece of paper, found the pressurized foam can, the scissors and tape, and hurried in to my quarters.I put the paper to one side while I washed with a wet towel.Then I squirted some of the jelly like foam on the cut, smoothed it over, and pressed my finger to it.My “ouch!” was more in surprise than from pain as the strongly astringent substance grabbed at the skin.It dried rapidly, contracting both itself and the blood vessels below as it did.I stuck tape over the area and was done.Except for finding a pencil and printing a brief question under Vortex’s name on the paper.Gathering everything together, I went back out to the courtyard.Vortex was there talking to the birds.“Ah, you see? Here he comes now,” he pointed out to the larger one and then asked me, “What did you tell them? They’re both very uneasy.”“Explain it’s nothing to worry about,” I said, putting away the scissors, tape and foam can.“You should show them.They have feelings, you know.”His tone was peculiar, and the request gave me the opening I was looking for, so I walked over to display the tape patch on my neck to the birds.“See? Nothing.Only a scratch.” I smiled and held the piece of paper up in front of Vortex.“Oh, by the way—I found this in the drawer and it reminded me.I still can’t pronounce your real name, my King.How do you say it?”Beneath the original Cadet’s script which spelled out his name I had penciled in: “Why is it death to love a Robot, my King?”Vortex’s eyes dropped to the paper and rose immediately to lock with mine.A peculiar sensation came over me, as though I were watching a laser-video tape and the action had been momentarily frozen.Vortex stared at me; everything about him appeared immobilized [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Linki