Asimov’s Future History Volume 8 Read online

  At first she was going to demur, but then the germ of an idea occurred to her. Suppressing a wicked smile, she sweetly said, “Of course, Father. I’d love to be with you.” The old kin got to his feet and trotted out of the cave with WhiteTail beside him.

  The barking and yipping started the moment someone in the crowd spotted LifeCrier. A few in the crowd gave themselves up to their excitement and howled in BeastTongue. By the time the old kin had crossed to the rocky knoll that overlooked the clearing, the noise had resolved into a rhythmic chant:” LifeCrier, Life-Crier, Life-Crier...”

  WhiteTail stopped at the base of the knoll and watched her father as he climbed. At the top he paused a moment to look out upon the crowd with a broad, tail-wagging smile on his face. All eyes were on him, he knew, and he basked in the glory. Then he sat down, flattened his ears, closed his eyes, and raised his voice in a long, mournful howl of BeastTongue.

  The crowd returned his benediction. The sight and sound astonished WhiteTail; over two hundred kin all packed into a clearing, sitting with their backs arched stiffly, muzzles raised in a deafening unison howl.

  LifeCrier dropped his head and switched to the formal cadences of HuntTongue. “Listen!” Abruptly, the howling stopped. “Hear me, O kin! I tell of the time before time, and of a promise made to our mother’s mother’s earliest dam.”

  “Praise the OldMother!” an excitable convert near WhiteTail shouted. She looked him over quickly and found him much like the others: scruffy, underfed, possibly good-looking if he’d just groom his fur. But there was a little too much hunger in his eyes, and he sported a fresh scar on his left rear leg. Another loser, she decided, dismissing him with a sniff.

  “Listen!” LifeCrier said again. “In the beginning, there was the Great Pack. They lived in the Forest of Dawn, when the world was young. Of game there was no end; of enemies, none that dared invade the dens of the kin. Each hunter had his perfect mate, each little mother her strong and obedient pups, and all the kin lived in harmony. All the days were green and cool, and all the nights were warm and sweet, for time had not yet begun and Death was a stranger to the kin. It was forever summer in the Forest of Dawn, and great were the blessings that the OldMother showered down upon the kin.”

  “Praise the OldMother!” the convert shouted again, this time getting the cue right.

  LifeCrier’s face darkened, and his voice took on an ominous tone. “But though they were blessed, those first kin knew it not. Instead, they let the spirit of the FirstBeast move among them, and give them evil counsel. Then brother turned against sister, and father against child, for they all desired to lead the Great Pack. When the OldMother saw this, she was greatly displeased, and she sent her chosen one, GreyMane, to set us back on the scent of righteousness.”

  Several of the other converts had by now picked up on the rhythm of the sermon, and they shouted, “Have mercy on us, OldMother!”

  LifeCrier acknowledged the response with a slight nod and resumed. “But hard were the hearts of those first kin, and blind were their eyes to truth. GreyMane’s brother was full of the spirit of the FirstBeast, and the pack stood behind him as he ripped the life from her throat. Then did the OldMother fall on the Great Pack, her hackles as tall as great trees, her fangs gleaming like the sun. With thunder and fire, she drove the kin from the Forest of Dawn and scattered them to the winds, to suffer and die in the world until their children’s children’s children had paid the price of their sins.” LifeCrier paused for a breath.

  The converts yelled their enthusiastic responses.

  Slowly, lovingly, LifeCrier looked over the crowd. His ears relaxed; his expression softened. In a gentler tone of voice, he continued. “Thus has it been for a thousand generations. We are born. We suffer. We die. Our pups go hungry, our old ones fall victim to the sharpfangs, and our best and brightest hunters fight tooth and claw for the right to lead, for but a summer or two. While through the ages, the faithful have waited for the sign that we are at last forgiven. Through flood and famine, through the raging fires of autumn and the bitter frosts of winter, even when hope seemed as hard to find as a redwing’s teeth, generations of kin have lived and died in the belief that the OldMother would send the Chosen One again, and we would once again live in harmony in the Forest of Dawn.

  “Some have said that the believers were fools. Some have said that we waited in vain.” LifeCrier paused to look the crowd over one more time, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. The only sound from the converts was a disorganized mumble.

  Then the old kin puffed his chest, raised his ears, and loosed a joyous bark. “Brethren, friends, members of the Great Pack: I am here today to tell you that the wait has not been in vain. For I bring you good news; the Chosen One has been sent among us, and her name is SilverSides!”

  The crowd went up in another tumult of yipping and barking. Strained shouts of “Praise the OldMother!” mingled with shouts of “Praise SilverSides!” For a moment, watching the fervor of the crowd, WhiteTail wondered if her father really had any idea of the kind of energy he’d tapped. Then she put the question out of her mind. There were enough little problems to handle without confronting the big one.

  “Listen. Listen!” In a bit, the crowd settled down again, and LifeCrier continued. “Look around you. Look at your neighbors. A year ago, this humble place, this PackHome, was a desperate and dying place. Hemmed in by other packs, we faced an invasion from the Hill of Stars. The WalkingStones were terrible enemies: Tall and swift, able to kill with a glance, they were as deadly as silent sharpfangs and twice as hard to kill. The game was driven away, and our young hunters were slain without honor. If ever there was a place that needed the OldMother, surely PackHome was it.

  “Now, some have said that the OldMother has grown deaf to the cries of the kin, and her heart has long since hardened against us. But brethren, I am here to tell you that she listens to us still. For the OldMother heard the lamentations of PackHome; she saw the hungry pups, she smelled the unburied dead. The OldMother’s heart was moved, and in our darkest hour she sent us her sign and her help, and the name was SilverSides.”

  LifeCrier’s voice dropped to a whisper. Remarkably, the crowd fell silent to listen. For a moment all WhiteTail heard was the wind rustling the leaves of the whitetrees and the distant call of a lonely bluecrest.

  “I was there. oh my brethren,” LifeCrier whispered. “You and I, we were born from our mothers. But the mother of SilverSides is the OldMother, who lives in the sky, and SilverSides was born from a fiery star. These old eyes saw her come down from the sky, trailing flame and glory.

  “She was as a cub, but she was formed fully grown. As soon as she could move, she felled a mighty sharpfang with one bite.” LifeCrier looked around the clearing, gauging his audience’s disbelief. “With one bite, brethren. Even before she could speak, she saved an entire hunting pack. And when she could at last speak, did she challenge KeenEye for the leadership of the hunt, as was her right under the law of the FirstBeast?

  “No. She said, ‘I am here to serve you.’”

  He paused to let that thought sink in and catch his breath. After a few quick pants, he resumed speaking in his normal voice. “That is the first lesson, O members of the Great Pack. She accomplished great things; she fought with valor. But all these things she did to serve the pack.

  “She hunted with the pack, and she was a mighty hunter. She led us against the WalkingStones, and drove them back in defeat.” He leapt to his hind feet and held his amulet high. The sunlight twinkled and flashed on the broken circuit board. “This is the token she gave me, to remind me of my faith. It is a piece of the brain of a WalkingStone, and it does not decay!”

  LifeCrier flashed the amulet around so all could see it. When the wondrous gasps had settled down, he hung the amulet around his neck again and dropped down to all fours. “That was just one of her miracles. There were many more, and in time I will tell you about them. But for now-for you who are taking your first trots down th
e path of faith-I leave you with these four promises, which she gave unto me. Let these be the four legs upon which your faith stands:

  “SilverSides will protect us.

  “SilverSides will serve us.

  “SilverSides came once, to awaken us.

  “SilverSides will come again, to lead us back to the Forest of Dawn.”

  Abruptly, LifeCrier turned and began descending from the rocky knoll. The crowd exploded in a tumult of barking and howling. Shouts of “Praise LifeCrier!” went up from one side of the clearing, and “Praise SilverSides!” from the other. A small fight started in the back when someone tried to shout “Praise the OldMother!” and the younglings in the front were swept aside by a mob of converts rushing forward to touch the fur of LifeCrier.

  Unnoticed in all the noise and confusion, WhiteTail carefully worked her way around to the back side of the knoll. She paused only a moment, to think, I sure hope I know what I’m doing. Then in one quick dash she scampered to the top of the knoll and let rip with her best blood-curdling shriek.

  Amazingly, the rabble all froze and stared at her.

  Here goes nothing. WhiteTail flashed a wide, joyous, utterly fraudulent smile, whipped her tail excitedly, and barked out, “Hear me! I am WhiteTail, daughter of LifeCrier!”

  “Praise LifeCrier!” the scruffy one near the front shouted.

  She beamed at the crowd again. Whatever you do, girl, don’t make eye contact with your father. “LifeCrier has asked me to make an announcement.” She felt the fur on the back of her head prickle and knew that her father was staring at her. She could easily visualize his baffled expression as he tried to figure out what she was up to this time, and she started to glance in his direction. Don’t look at him!

  “In honor of this happy occasion,” WhiteTail barked, “LifeCrier wishes it known that he himself will lead the first hunt of the Great Pack! He goes to the forest now; all who would truly follow in the footsteps of SilverSides, follow LifeCrier!” The pack erupted in a maelstrom of baying and hunting howls and surged forward to engulf LifeCrier.

  Now, girl. Now you can look at him. WhiteTail picked her father’s face out of the mob at the foot of the knoll. For an instant he looked back at her with daggers flashing in his eyes, and then he was swept away by the furry tide that streamed out into the forest. Okay, Father, WhiteTail thought with a snicker, let’s see you wriggle your way out of this one. Bounding down from the knoll, she blended into the crowd and followed.

  All her efforts were concentrated on keeping track of her father. She never noticed the small, green observation robot that drifted along at treetop level, following her.

  Chapter 10

  JANET

  DR. ANASTASI CHARGED up the slidewalk from the tunnel transit stop, pinwheeled through a lobby, and caught the next flight of slidewalk. “Look at this, Basalom. Have you ever seen such conspicuous waste before?”

  The First and Second Laws of Robotics prevented him from responding with an untruth, but Basalom deduced from experience that his mistress did not want a completely truthful answer. He kept his silence as he strode a respectful three paces behind her, but he carried on an internal dialogue. Actually, Dr. Anastasi, we’ve both seen something exactly like this. Or have you forgotten the Ceremyons already?

  Dr. Anastasi rapped her knuckles on a ceiling support beam as the slidewalk rose up through the next floor. “Good grief. Iron. Chrome steel. Petrochemical plastics. They must have torn down an entire mountain to build this place.”

  “Quite possibly, madam.” Although in that case the scanning team would have spotted something beyond a little thermal pollution, no?

  Dr. Anastasi shook her head. “When I think of all the ecological damage that these things must cause

  “I mean, think of it, Basalom. Thousands of hectares of biosphere flattened, graded, and rendered utterly sterile. Entire species displaced.” She turned around and took in the building with a sweeping gesture. “You know, I think I’ve figured it out. The Robot Cities are fire ant nests. Enormous fire ant nests.”

  The allusion was a bit obscure; it took Basalom almost 30 nanoseconds to cross-reference and make the connection. Fire ant: Solenopsis saevissinul richteri. A fiercely stinging omnivorous ant native to the American continents of Earth, commonly thought responsible for the Great Agricultural Failure of the early 21st century. See North American History, Populist Rising of 2014. Then he realized that Janet was obviously waiting for him to ask her to explain. “Fire ants, madam?”

  “Nasty little brown bugs, native to Earth. Every now and then someone accidentally exports them to a Settler world.

  “All it takes is one queen, at the start. But her offspring build these huge, networked, almost indestructible nests, strip the land of everything that can be eaten, and kill or drive out all the native species right up to cattle. Pretty soon, instead of a meadow, you’ve got a couple hectares of solid fire ant nest. And then they send out hordes of flying queens to start new colonies.”

  The slidewalk rose through another floor, and Janet looked around. “Yes, fire ants get established someplace, you may as well nuke the whole mess and start over.”

  They’d reached the top of the slidewalk. Janet wheeled and charged through an enormous open archway; Basalom followed an instant later, in time to see Dr. Anastasi get grabbed by two large, matte-black security robots.

  His First Law reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Dr. Anastasi is being attacked. I must defend her.

  Even as he started to move, within nanoseconds, secondary observations came into his central thought processor. The security robots were standard Robot City Avernus models: massive, solid, four meters tall, equipped with ominous-looking pincer hands-in short, far more menacing than the older “Gort” models found doing most security work on Spacer worlds. These robots are subject to the First Law just as I am. Dr. Anastasi is in no danger. Perhaps they are restraining her in order to prevent her from entering an area of greater potential harm.

  Dr. Anastasi’s face flushed red to the roots of her blond hair, and she pounded ineffectually on the robot’s broad metal chest. “Put me down!”

  “This is a restricted area,” the robot said in a voice that sounded like ball bearings in a blender.

  “This is Central Hall. It can’t be a restricted area.”

  The robot tilted its massive, helmet-like head back and scanned her face. “You are not in my permissions file. Access denied. If you would like to apply for permission —”

  “Shut up!” She thumped the black behemoth on the side of the head, and it responded by shifting its grip so that she could no longer move her arms.

  Casually, Basalom strolled into view, stopped a foot short of the security robots’ reaction perimeter, and opened a commlink channel. Hello. Is there some problem here?

  This is a restricted area, the unoccupied security robot said. Interestingly, its commlink signal projected the same gravelly tone as the other’s voice synthesizer.

  Ah, I see. He looked at Dr. Anastasi as if curious. What did, she do?

  She attempted to enter the restricted zone without correct permission.

  Dr. Anastasi caught her breath again. “Put me down, you ugly tin lunkhead!”

  Basalom nodded sagely. And you stopped her. Good work. But tell me, why is this zone restricted?

  To prevent the risk of further attacks on Central. This one fit the profile of a potential attacker. Dr. Anastasi got a foot loose and gave the security robot a good solid kick in the knee joint. The hall echoed with the clang.

  Basalom nodded again. Indeed she does. He looked back to the security robot. However, I’m curious about something. Who issued the orders restricting this area?

  The Supervisory Council.

  I see. And they’re all robots, is that correct?

  Yes.

  Basalom stepped a bit closer, as if to examine Janet, but still stayed circumspectly outside the security robot’s reaction perimeter. You are aware, of course,
that this is a human.

  Both security robots responded. Of course. The one holding Dr. Anastasi continued, That is why I am restraining her without harming her.

  Basalom stepped back and looked the black robot straight in the oculars. Under the Second Law, an order given by a human supersedes an order given by a robot-even by a robot on the Supervisory Council.

  Protection of Central stems directly from our fundamental programming, which was installed by the human Dr. Avery. The security robot hesitated, but persisted. This security detail is therefore following a human order of higher priority.

  Basalom shifted his approach. Dr. Anastasi is a former colleague of Dr. Avery’s. True enough, as far as it went. Basalom felt no need to amplify the relationship. She is no danger to Central. In any case, human reactions are so slow compared to robots that you or I could stop her if she attempted an assault on Central. Besides, her order is direct and immediate, and is a situation not foreseen by your programming. Also true enough. I suggest you start obeying her orders.

  Security robots could be a bit thick, but even they eventually caught on. Oh.

  Janet shrieked, “Let me go!” The robot holding her did, and she hit the floor with a plop. In an instant Basalom was at her side, helping her to her feet. All her attention was fixed on the security robot; the only notice she took of Basalom was to mutter,,, You just have to know how to talk to these things.”

  “Indeed, madam.”

  Getting to her feet, Dr. Anastasi straightened her clothes and fixed the security robots with a steely glare. “Well, I hope you two have learned your lesson. Come along, Basalom.., Though the security robots were both a good two meters taller than Janet, she brushed them aside and ploughed straight ahead into Central Hall.

  Basalom followed her. One of the security robots started to open his commlink channel to challenge Basalom’s security clearance, but Basalom struck first. Implied Second Law: Dr. Anastasi has ordered me to accompany her. Therefore, she wishes me to enter this area, and therefore, she obviously wishes you to allow me to pass. The security robots were still trying to parse that one out when Basalom and Dr. Anastasi disappeared out of sight around the corner.