this . . .” he touched the bars again, then looked back at the weapon, “and that . . .”
“I see no reason to risk a panic by identifying it. I’m not even sure anyone would believe it. Robinson obviously controls it very well.” He turned abruptly to the security guard. “Have my full staff assembled in my office in five minutes.” He waited until the guard left before he spoke to Phillips. “The android is functional, as far as we can tell. It must have a certain amount of mental facility, and it clearly has full physical capacity.”
“Do you really think Robinson controls it?”
Darro considered it, then shook his head doubtfully. “It’s possible, but who can say? The android broke out of the lab by itself and came here. The guard said Robinson seemed to be afraid of the thing. But he didn’t get too good a look before it put him out.”
“Painlessly,” Phillips pointed out. “He didn’t hurt the man.”
“I might point out that that could have been sheer accident.” Darro gestured toward the door with the ruined machine gun. “We’ve got work to do.”
Traffic into Los Angeles International Airport was always heavy, even late on a weekday night. The roar of the jets landing and taking off was almost constant, nerve-tearing if one stood outside too long. It was past midnight, but all the terminals were alive with people departing and arriving. The vast parking areas in the center section were almost full. Jerry pulled his car into a lot opposite the long terminal building housing the international carriers and managed to slide into a space another car had just left.
He sighed, feeling as if he had already completed a wearying journey. Almost as an afterthought, he switched off the ignition and lights. Then he turned to Questor and studied him intently for a long moment. The android silently stared back, waiting for him.
Jerry nodded with ironic satisfaction. “I’ll say this much for you. It’s an engineer’s dream to have something this complex come together so perfectly. I almost wish I could go with you to London, study how you react to different situations.”
“But you are accompanying me to London, Mr. Robinson.”
“Will you try to understand that that’s impossible!” Jerry snapped. Then he stopped, gathered in his flaring temper, and tried to be logical. He had to remember logic with this thing. “There are many reasons why not. For example, it would require six to seven hundred dollars for us to purchase travel to London.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he thumbed through the money and showed it to Questor. “And I have a total of . . . thirty-three dollars.”
The android took the wallet and examined it for himself. Jerry smiled triumphantly as Questor said, “I understand. Contemporary economic practices were included in my university tape programming.”
Jerry began to feel a warm glow starting. At last! He had gotten through that peculiarly stubborn programmed response and the android could see his logic. “Good. We’re finally beginning to communicate. You see, there’s a difference between things we’d like to do and things we can do.”
Questor had completed his rapid examination of the wallet’s contents and sat listening carefully. He looked up at Jerry and nodded. “Thank you. I comprehend perfectly.”
“Good. And flying to London is something we can’t do.”
“Incorrect, Mr. Robinson. Since Vaslovik’s records on you included your economic reputation, I was certain we could travel to London using one of your delayed-specie cards.” He lifted several credit cards from the wallet and held them out.
Jerry stared at him, stunned. The android displayed the cards for him as innocently as a child. He was innocent in many ways, but Jerry had suddenly had it. Rage churned up in him, shaking his body and his voice. “ You are planning to use my credit cards?”
Questor nodded calmly. “Is it not a quite
“I see no reason to risk a panic by identifying it. I’m not even sure anyone would believe it. Robinson obviously controls it very well.” He turned abruptly to the security guard. “Have my full staff assembled in my office in five minutes.” He waited until the guard left before he spoke to Phillips. “The android is functional, as far as we can tell. It must have a certain amount of mental facility, and it clearly has full physical capacity.”
“Do you really think Robinson controls it?”
Darro considered it, then shook his head doubtfully. “It’s possible, but who can say? The android broke out of the lab by itself and came here. The guard said Robinson seemed to be afraid of the thing. But he didn’t get too good a look before it put him out.”
“Painlessly,” Phillips pointed out. “He didn’t hurt the man.”
“I might point out that that could have been sheer accident.” Darro gestured toward the door with the ruined machine gun. “We’ve got work to do.”
Traffic into Los Angeles International Airport was always heavy, even late on a weekday night. The roar of the jets landing and taking off was almost constant, nerve-tearing if one stood outside too long. It was past midnight, but all the terminals were alive with people departing and arriving. The vast parking areas in the center section were almost full. Jerry pulled his car into a lot opposite the long terminal building housing the international carriers and managed to slide into a space another car had just left.
He sighed, feeling as if he had already completed a wearying journey. Almost as an afterthought, he switched off the ignition and lights. Then he turned to Questor and studied him intently for a long moment. The android silently stared back, waiting for him.
Jerry nodded with ironic satisfaction. “I’ll say this much for you. It’s an engineer’s dream to have something this complex come together so perfectly. I almost wish I could go with you to London, study how you react to different situations.”
“But you are accompanying me to London, Mr. Robinson.”
“Will you try to understand that that’s impossible!” Jerry snapped. Then he stopped, gathered in his flaring temper, and tried to be logical. He had to remember logic with this thing. “There are many reasons why not. For example, it would require six to seven hundred dollars for us to purchase travel to London.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he thumbed through the money and showed it to Questor. “And I have a total of . . . thirty-three dollars.”
The android took the wallet and examined it for himself. Jerry smiled triumphantly as Questor said, “I understand. Contemporary economic practices were included in my university tape programming.”
Jerry began to feel a warm glow starting. At last! He had gotten through that peculiarly stubborn programmed response and the android could see his logic. “Good. We’re finally beginning to communicate. You see, there’s a difference between things we’d like to do and things we can do.”
Questor had completed his rapid examination of the wallet’s contents and sat listening carefully. He looked up at Jerry and nodded. “Thank you. I comprehend perfectly.”
“Good. And flying to London is something we can’t do.”
“Incorrect, Mr. Robinson. Since Vaslovik’s records on you included your economic reputation, I was certain we could travel to London using one of your delayed-specie cards.” He lifted several credit cards from the wallet and held them out.
Jerry stared at him, stunned. The android displayed the cards for him as innocently as a child. He was innocent in many ways, but Jerry had suddenly had it. Rage churned up in him, shaking his body and his voice. “ You are planning to use my credit cards?”
Questor nodded calmly. “Is it not a quite
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