The Questor Tapes by D. C. Fontana Page B

prevented a good view, but Jean could make out the two men seated alone on the port side of the big cruiser. “Maybe they can’t sleep.”
    “Well, they certainly do read.”
    Jerry had watched Questor whip through a thick pile of newspapers and magazines. The android read a sheet in a glance, tearing through the publications as fast as pages could be turned. Jerry found that he had suddenly developed a habit of jumping nervously whenever anyone approached. In the meantime, Questor carried on a conversation as he read, apparently at ease doing both.
    “Do you know if Vaslovik had any affinity for aquatic vehicles, Mr. Robinson? I was able to ascertain that he did not own one.”
    “Sailing, yachting, that kind of thing?”
    “I believe so. A fragment from my creator’s tape seems to associate his location with such a vehicle.”
    Jerry puzzled over it, trying to remember his casual conversations with the scientist. Vaslovik seldom discussed outside interests. Jerry had had an impression that Vaslovik had very few, at least none he had taked about. “I don’t recall Professor Vaslovik ever mentioning any boat or ship. Look, I’m more interested right now in something called passports. In London, they’ll discover they weren’t packed in our luggage.” His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “We don’t even have luggage!”
    “I have a plan,” Questor said calmly. “My programming included detailed information on international law and procedure.”
    Jerry stared at him, startled. “That wasn’t part of the university programming.”
    “I referred to my creator’s tape. It is puzzling why he would consider this necessary. Also, my compulsion to acquire information on your world. It must be satisfying to be human and know the reason for one’s existence.”
    Fleetingly, Jerry wondered if Questor was teasing him, but decided he couldn’t be. Nothing the android had said even hinted at a sense of humor. Questor was absolutely serious, of course. “Maybe we’re not so different,” Jerry said. “Not in that way, at least.”
    “At least you know you are alive, part of a world of living things. In my case . . .” Questor paused, bemused. “Strange, I almost stated that I feel loneliness. Is it possible I was meant to feel and that this was among the things erased from my creator’s tape?” He resumed reading.
    Jerry studied him for a long moment before he answered. “I’ve no way of knowing what he did intend for you. I’m sorry, Questor.”
    The android’s bright blue eyes came up and rested on him. The head tilted slightly to the right, quizzically. “ ‘Questor.’ The first time you have spoken to me by name, Mr. Robinson. Thank you.” He dropped his attention back to the magazine.
    “Slower,” Jerry hissed suddenly. “No one can read that fast!”
    Jean Klein came down the aisle with a fresh stack of magazines, wanting to get a closer look at them. Questor reduced his reading speed, but it was equal to riffling the pages. Jerry jammed an elbow into Questor’s ribs, and he looked up to see the stewardess staring at him, bewildered. Questor carefully turned a page and concentrated on it. Jerry gave the young woman his brightest, most charming smile. She relaxed, smiled back, and put down the new stack of material.
    “My, we do read a lot, don’t we?” she said conversationally.
    Questor looked up, eager to open a new subject. “I am delighted we share that predilection, madam. However, I find printed information most inefficient compared to computer data readout when used—”
    Jerry interrupted, handing the stewardess the pile of discarded publications. “Miss, could I have a martini, please? As large as regulations permit.” He flashed his most dazzling smile again.
    Jean decided she had been right. They were both nervous fliers, trying to cover it. She nodded pleasantly to Jerry and turned to Questor. “And you, sir?”
    Questor had resumed his reading. “No, madam. Although