Asimov's Future History Volume 3 Read online

  “I see,” said Marcia.

  “We’re almost done with this background stuff,” said Steve. “Then we can head for the Bohung Institute. Tell her about Wayne, Hunter.”

  “Perhaps you can summarize that problem for us.”

  “I don’t feel like it.” Steve turned away from Marcia. “I’m just the hired hand, remember? I don’t handle this theoretical stuff.”

  2

  STEVE COULD HARDLY believe that Hunter had hired someone as stuffy and pompous as Marcia. Though he felt bound by Hunter’s genuine need for him on this mission, Steve already disliked Marcia more than any team member since he had first met Chad Mora, the paleontologist who had joined them on their first mission, back to the Late Cretaceous in the time of dinosaurs. Having to pretend he was married to her was going to make this trip even worse.

  “I’ll explain Wayne,” Jane said quickly. “Dr. Wayne Nystrom invented the Governor robots, and he is angry that the Oversight Committee is leaving him out. He wants to get at least one of the component robots under his power so he can try to find out what went wrong himself.”

  “How does he intend to do that?” Marcia asked. “Is he trying to break in here or something?”

  “No,” said Jane. “Before Hunter got here, Wayne found the time travel sphere and has arranged to use it himself. He can apparently move through time without returning here. But on one occasion, he came back here and found a robot we had left here to apprehend him.”

  “What happened?” Marcia looked from Jane to Hunter. “You mean this robot didn’t catch him?”

  “No,” said Jane. “We don’t know exactly what happened, but we instructed the robot, R. Ishihara, to hold Wayne. We explained these instructions on the grounds that Wayne’s actions in the past threaten harm to humans by changing history — the same concern we have over the component robots. That First Law imperative should have been sufficient to convince Ishihara to obey under the Second Law.”

  “Then why didn’t it work?”

  “I can only surmise,” said Jane. “My best estimation is that Wayne somehow created doubt in Ishihara’s mind that Wayne was causing a clear First Law imperative. That would eliminate the power of our Second Law instructions and allow Wayne to give him new ones.”

  “Robots are so logical and direct,” said Marcia. “You really think this Wayne guy could talk Ishihara out of his direct orders?”

  Jane shrugged. “He must have. After all, he’s a roboticist; he’s had plenty of experience with robot logic regarding the Three Laws.”

  “Wayne should be easy to spot. Marco Polo’s family and Hunter and Jane may well be the only other Europeans in the capital.”

  “His family?” Steve reluctantly turned to Marcia. “I’ve heard of Marco Polo, but … was his family there?”

  “He traveled to China with his father, Niccolo, and his uncle Matteo,” said Marcia. “Marco will be, let’s see, thirty-six years old in 1290. In 1292, he and his family started their trip back home to Venice.”

  “Hunter,” said Steve, “can we get on with it? We won’t find MC 5 by talking here.”

  “Yes. You probably saw the Security vehicle waiting outside. I will drive us to the Bohung Institute. But I must ask all three of you if you have received the vaccinations I arranged for you. And have you completed your sleep courses in spoken Chinese, Mongol, and Italian of this time?”

  Steve and Jane both nodded.

  “Yes,” said Marcia. “I took the vaccinations a little while ago, and I arranged the sleep courses last night after I spoke to you from Houston. From your selection of Italian, I suppose you intend to meet the Polos?”

  “I want to be ready for this eventuality,” said Hunter. “I noticed in Marco Polo’s book that he gives no indication that he ever learned Chinese.”

  “That’s correct,” said Marcia. “He seems to have managed for his entire seventeen years in China speaking Persian and Mongol, though I believe he must have picked up a few phrases of Chinese along the way.”

  “I would think so,” said Jane. “But if Steve and Marcia are masquerading as southern Chinese, why did you want them to know Italian?”

  “I want them to be able to understand what they may hear if we meet the Polos,” said Hunter.

  “Obviously, Jane and I would do the talking in Italian. Now, I believe we are ready to go the Bohung Institute.”

  “Hunter, hold it,” Steve said in confusion. “You’re thinking of meeting Marco Polo? A guy who wrote a book? We could really change history if we influence him, couldn’t we?”

  “We must handle any meeting with the Polos carefully, of course,” said Hunter. “Marcia, do you feel the danger of affecting Polo’s book would be prohibitive?”

  “No,” Marcia said thoughtfully. “As long as we’re careful, as you say. Frankly, he said just before he died that he had not told half the wonders that he had seen. For instance, he never mentioned the Great Wall, even though he lived close to it in Khanbaliq for many years. He probably saw the western end when he arrived from Europe and again when he went home. He never wrote about tea, though it had been a common drink in China for centuries.”

  “Good,” said Hunter. “If we meet the Polos, we will simply exercise extreme care not to be worthy of appearing in his book.”

  “One more question, please,” said Marcia. “Maybe the rest of you know this, but I don’t. Why are we leaving at night, after a day’s activity? Shouldn’t we leave in the morning, when we’re fresh?”

  “We must arrive in the evening, when dusk will mask our sudden, unexplainable arrival from any potential witnesses,” said Hunter. “We will therefore leave this evening, so that your schedules of sleeping and waking will match those of the society in which we will be a part.”

  “Where will we land?” Steve asked. “Out in the middle of nowhere again, I suppose.”

  “Yes — to avoid being seen by local humans,” said Hunter. “Since I am unfamiliar with the exact details of the city, we must arrive in the countryside. This will minimize the chance of appearing right in front of people; if we do land near peasants, I hope the near-darkness will also disguise us. Our first task will be to find a safe place to sleep. In the morning, we will begin our search for MC 5.”

  Marcia nodded. “All right. I understand.”

  As the team left the office, Steve walked out last, wondering how much of a burden Marcia was going to be. By the end of the first mission, he and Chad had earned a mutual grudging respect. On the other hand, Rita Chavez, the historian on the second mission, had caused more problems than she’d solved.

  The other two, Gene Titus and Judy Taub, had been pleasant and reliable. However, tolerating Marcia’s personality was going to be a trial.

  Hunter drove the team through the clean, peaceful streets of the underground city. They were brightly lit, full of shops and restaurants. Hunter drove among both robot and human pedestrians, as well as other vehicles. The robots and humans who lived in Mojave Center pursued their daily routines, unaware of anything unusual happening in their midst. Steve wondered what they would think if they knew a device that could send humans and robots through time existed right in their city. Hunter had insisted on keeping their time travel a secret, however, and Steve had agreed that was a good idea.

  When Hunter had first started his assignment in pursuit of Mojave Center Governor, he had arranged to shut down the Bohung Institute. A city Security detail guarded the exterior, and another robot, R.

  Daladier, had been assigned to replace Ishihara in Room F-12, where the sphere was located, in the unlikely event that Wayne Nystrom appeared there. When the team entered Room F-12, Steve saw that Hunter had already prepared their clothing and money for the trip.

  “I had two sets of clothing made today,” said Hunter. “I was not certain if we would masquerade as people of some wealth or not, so I prepared one set to imply wealth and one to convey modest means.

  Also, I have provided two outfits in each set, so we will ha
ve a change of clothes with us. Marcia, please check them for authenticity. I can assure you that no synthetics have been used, of course. You will each have a radio communicator in the form of a lapel pin, as before.”

  “We should wear the better clothing,” said Marcia briskly, glancing at the two stacks.

  Steve watched as Marcia walked over to the stack of neatly folded black and gray silk. She lifted a long black robe and held it out at arm’s length. The robe was shaped in a rough triangle, flared at the bottom with a neck that simply overlapped, like a bathrobe. From its size, Steve could see that this was for Hunter.

  “This is fine,” said Marcia, folding it again.

  “What about the neck?” Steve asked. “In all the old pictures I’ve seen — and the movies set in pre-industrial China — the gowns had these tight collars that stand straight up around the person’s neck.”

  “They’re called Mandarin collars,” said Marcia, as she set Hunter’s gown aside and shook out a pail” of baggy trousers. “They came into style many centuries later.” She glanced over the trousers, turning them in her hands. “Your research has served us well.” She set those down and picked up an identical set of clothes in Steve’s size. “If these are in the same style, I don’t need to examine them.”

  “They are identical except for size,” said Hunter. “Will wearing identical colors be acceptable? The social acceptability of this was not mentioned in the history I found. Also, embroidery was available but I felt we should appear to be moderately successful rather than very wealthy. So I chose clothing in solid colors.”

  “I agree,” said Marcia. “Appearing modestly well-to-do is wise. It will fit the roles of merchant and aspiring scholar that we have chosen. Further, black is good, a sign of prosperity. Since the number of dyes was limited in the society we will visit, most people in a given economic level wore fairly similar clothes.”

  “What about ours?” Jane pointed to the pile of gray clothes.

  “They should be similar.” Marcia lifted a plain dark blue robe and then a matching pair of loose trousers.

  “Yes, these are fine.”

  “Similar?” Steve shook his head. “The cut is exactly the same, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Hunter. “The styles were very loose. No form-fitting was involved.”

  “These are fine,” said Marcia. “But I don’t see any coats. What time of year are we going to visit?”

  “Late summer,” said Hunter. “It would be August according to our calendar, though of the course the Chinese are using their lunar calendar.”

  “Khanbaliq is pretty far north. The nights could be chilly even in summer.”

  “My data shows that fur coats would be commonly used in cold weather,” said Hunter. “This is a problem we faced on an earlier mission. We do not use real fur in our time and I dare not take artificial fur back with us. So if we need coats, we must buy them there.” Hunter pointed to a small pile of coins.

  “I have gathered authentic coins from that time for us to use, as we have on earlier missions.”

  Marcia picked up a coin and looked at it, nodding. “Paper currency was in use during this time. I should think it would be easy to imitate.”

  “I did not attempt to locate any surviving bills to use as models. The likelihood of their surviving to our time was too low.”

  “I’m going to change,” Steve said impatiently, picking up his clothes and heading for the adjacent room.

  “You do not have your shoes,” said Hunter. “Or the under robe.”

  “Huh?” Steve stopped and turned around again, looking at Marcia.

  She picked up a pair of shoes from the counter. As she turned them over in her hands, all Steve could see was flimsy black cloth over flat, heelless soles. She held them out to him.

  “Those are shoes? What are they made of?” Steve asked doubtfully, as he took them from her.

  “The soles are woven hemp,” said Hunter. “The rest of each shoe is just cloth.”

  “That is an authentic design,” said Marcia.

  “However, under pressure from the First Law, I arranged for the inside of the shoes to have some arched shaping and padding for your feet,” Hunter added. “This is an improvement that I must hope does not influence anyone in the past, but I believe the likelihood of anyone noticing the inside of our shoes is very small.”

  “Fine with me. I just want to get on with it.” Steve also accepted a plain white under robe from Marcia, and went to change in the adjoining room.

  The robes and trousers felt more uncomfortable than the clothing Steve had worn on earlier missions.

  The baggy trousers and flowing robe, even after he had tied the sash, felt weird. The shoes fit all right, at least. He rejoined the others with a self-conscious scowl.

  Jane glanced at him and took her turn without saying anything. Marcia took no notice of him, instead looking closely at each coin. Hunter gave Steve a cloth bag containing the change of clothes for everyone.

  Steve waited in silence. He hoped that this mission would end more easily than the others. Between Marcia’s arrogance and these bulky, uncomfortable clothes, he did not expect to enjoy this one very much.

  When they had all changed clothes, Hunter opened the big sphere and helped them inside. He took a moment to set the console and then joined them. When he closed the sphere, they all slid together in the darkness, jumbled in the curved bottom.

  A moment later, Steve tumbled to the ground among some green plants. The air felt cool but not uncomfortable. To his right, the sun was low over the horizon. Hunter, Jane, and Marcia had landed right next to him.

  They were sitting up on fairly level ground in some sort of cultivated field. Steve did not recognize the tall green stalks around them, which blocked their visibility beyond a few meters. He pushed himself up to a sitting position.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Hunter asked.

  “I’m fine,” said Marcia.

  “Me, too,” said Jane. “I’m okay.” said Steve, getting to his feet and pulling his robe straight. Now he could see over the stalks around him. “But we don’t have much daylight left. Where are we going from here, Hunter?”

  Hunter stood up and pointed to the west. The glare of the sun nearly hid the sight of some high walls and towers in that direction. “That is Khanbaliq.”

  “Let’s get going,” said Steve, hoisting the cloth bag. He pushed his way through some of the stalks.”

  Anybody know what this stuff is?”

  “Chinese sorghum,” said Marcia, glancing at it as she stood and adjusted her own robe. “It’s a common crop here, and closely related to the western variety.”

  Now that Steve was standing, he could see people walking toward the city on a nearby road. “We’re lucky we landed in this field, Hunter. Otherwise, we would have landed in plain sight of those people.” A dry breeze blew dust along the ground.

  “That’s true,” said Jane, brushing dust off her robe. “If they see us walking out of the sorghum field, I hope they don’t ask us what we were doing here.”

  “Lodging for the night is a bigger worry,” said Hunter, pushing his way forward through the plants.

  “Steve is right. We must walk.”

  “Is it always so dusty?” Jane asked.

  “Yes,” said Marcia. “The soil is called loess, comprised of deep layers of dust brought here by prevailing easterly winds from the west.”

  Rolling his eyes impatiently, Steve gestured for Jane and Marcia to follow Hunter. As usual, Steve went last. Gradually, they picked their way through the stalks and reached the dirt road.

  Poorly dressed, barefoot peasants were leaving the city. Some rode empty carts pulled by ponies or donkeys. Others led their work animals on ropes at a walk because their carts still contained some unsold produce.

  Other people, better dressed, walked or rode on the way into the city. Many of them stared at Hunter and Jane in astonishment. The remainder plodded past without noticing them, perhaps too weary
to look up.

  Steve strode up next to Jane as the team began walking on the road toward Khanbaliq. “I can see that the people leaving town are farmers. But who are all these people going into the city with us?”

  “I don’t know.” Jane turned to Marcia. “Is this a normal day, do you think? Or is something special happening?”

  “In this time of peace and relative prosperity, I would say this is a normal day. I believe the people heading back into the city are merchants and maybe even scholars. They either have arrived from other cities the way we will claim to have done, or else they made day trips to nearby villages.”

  “Commuters, you mean.” Steve grinned.

  “Well — yes,” she said stiffly.

  Steve laughed, not at his little joke but at the fact that Marcia didn’t even seem to recognize it as a joke.

  Jane elbowed him, scowling. Steve shook his head, openly showing his amusement.

  “Marcia, do you expect we will have any problem finding lodging?” Hunter asked. “If the city has many visitors, they may have filled the inns already.”

  “I don’t expect a problem,” said Marcia.

  Hunter turned to Jane. “Do you have any thoughts about where we should begin searching for MC 5?”

  “Well, MC 5 specialized in the administration of Mojave Center. I think he will almost certainly be drawn to the heart of the government.”

  “In this society, that is ultimately the Emperor himself,” said Marcia.

  3

  THE TEAM WALKED in silence as they slowly drew closer to the towering walls of Khanbaliq. The sun sank lower in the west beyond the massive walls. Steve was glad he did not have to listen to another lecture from Marcia.

  As the team approached the city gate, Steve saw several guards impatiently waiting for sundown, when they could close the gate for the night. They wore full armor and sword belts, and each had a spear in one hand. As they leaned on their spears, they talked quietly to each other.