Rat Trap (6 page)

A huge groan of protest erupted from the crew. But some of them were silent just like the captain, frowning thoughtfully at the damaged robot.

The chief smacked his forehead. “Come on, sir. I mean, the kid just got in the way. Nanny was following its orders to get the rat. It didn't … it
couldn't
… hurt him on purpose. The three laws don't allow that.”

“What if it did?” The captain flipped the remote over and over in his big hand. “How do we fix it?”

If? Jeff dropped his shirt. Wouldn't they ever believe him?

“Reboot the laws,” the woman said. “That would do it, if there's been any corruption.”

The chief agreed.

Jeff wasn't so confident. The three laws that governed robot behavior were invented in 1940 by Isaac Asimov, a science fiction writer. The laws made sure a robot followed orders unless those orders caused it to hurt a person for any reason. As far as Jeff was concerned, simply reminding Nanny to be a good robot might not be enough.

But nobody was asking Jeff's opinion.

“All right then, run your test.” The captain handed the remote back to the chief. “But if it works, you will reboot the laws before you let Nanny out of this room.”

“Yes, sir.” The chief rushed to the test panel on the wall behind the bench and plugged a last wire into Nanny's head. “Don't expect any flopping around like patients do on TV. Robot defibrillators work differently. Everything happens deep down inside Nanny's circuits. We need to watch for the light.”

Everybody stared at Nanny's dark eye. Only Jeff was wishing with all his might for the test to fail.

“Here goes!” The chief flipped a switch.

Nothing at all happened. The eye stayed dark.

Jeff stifled the impulse to shout “Hooray!”

The chief reset the switch. “Again!”

A little flash of green flickered deep within Nanny's eye. Jeff's breath caught.

“Did you see something?” the chief demanded.

“A flicker, I think,” Jeff replied, but no one else saw anything, and the computer readouts flashed
FAILURE.

Disappointed, the chief said, “Just a reflection.”

Was that all? Jeff wasn't sure, but he really couldn't waste time worrying now. He had to get back to Rat.

“Show's over,” the captain announced.

A great crescendo of ripping Velcro mixed with the disappointed voices as the crew shuffled away. Jeff turned to follow, but the captain stopped him.

“Listen up, hero boy,” the captain barked, grumpy again. “I want you on deck when that shuttle docks. That's an order. The investigator has a lot of questions for you. Oh, yes, indeed, he does.”

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

C
OUSINS

Rat dropped onto the console and snatched up her screwdriver.

“You came back. Jeff has not come back. Maybe a rat would make a better friend than a boy.”

What kind of machine
is
this? Rat wondered. The space station computers never tried to make friends. Nanny certainly never wanted to be the boy's friend. Whatever this machine might be, it was too loud!

Rat twitched a quick ear toward the living quarters. Reassured by the soft tremble of a snore, she put down the screwdriver. She studied the controls surrounding the dark monitor screen. She found the round lens of the scanner beam and signed at it: “Do not talk so loud. You will wake the scientist.”

“You are making tiny motions with your forepaws. Do you have an itch?”

Ignorant, just like the boy had been before Rat taught him to sign. She went for the keys. She repeated her words.

“Oh, dearie me, thoughtless LB!” The machine spoke in a perfect imitation of the scientist's voice. Then it returned to its own voice, softened to a near whisper. “You are a very considerate rodent. Would you like to be LB's friend? We are already cousins.”

Cousins? What nonsense! The scientist who cooked must be a very bad scientist. She made a machine stupid enough to think it was related to a rat. Rat typed,
RAT IS NOT YOUR COUSIN. RAT'S COUSINS ARE ON EARTH. THEY ARE BROWN. THEY HAVE TAILS.

“LB prefers verbal input.”

Rat typed, Rat cannot talk. Rat can type. Rat can sign.

“Sign? Analyzing … understood. You speak modified American sign language rodere dialect developed by Dr. Jackson Vivexian,” the machine said. “LB has no hands. LB cannot sign—wait …”

The monitor flickered, then two rat paws appeared—lavender paws with white cuffs!

“LB uses the term ‘cousins' loosely.” The machine signed very well with its created images of Rat's paws. It was so strange, it made Rat's skin crawl.

She quickly signed, “Verbal output preferred.”

“Very well,” the machine said. “We have something special in common, something you do not share with your Earth cousins.”

“What?”

“LB is a photonically activated artificial intelligence created by Beatrice Wagg three years, two months, four days, ten hours, thirty minutes, and 45 seconds … 46 … 47 … 48 …”

“Stop!”

“Thank you. You are a modified lavender rat, specimen number RR4b—”

“How do you know that?” Rat's number! It had been on her cage!

“LB's information comes from the Modified Organism Registry. It is all public data. As LB was saying, you are specimen RR4b, one of ten surviving embryos made by Dr. Jackson Vivexian of Rodengenics lab on January third of this year, patent number twenty-three million.”

Dr. Vivexian
made
Rat? Like a machine? Like Nanny?

NO! NO! NO!
Rat jumped on the keys. Her tail slashed and whacked.
YOU ARE WRONG! RAT WAS BORN. THERE WAS A MOTHER AND WARM MILK AND OTHER BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

“LB is not wrong. The files contain a video of RR4b with the mother.”

The monitor flickered, then showed a close-up of ten pink, hairless baby rats nursing. Rat could not tell which one was her. Side by side, they pressed against the white fur of the mother's belly, tiny toes kneading furiously, tails wiggling excitedly as they suckled. Rat sat transfixed by this vision of the mother's warm, life-giving belly. Her own toes flexed to the rhythm she remembered so well.

The camera angle suddenly widened, revealing more of the mother. There was no head. There was no tail. There was no substance. The mother was just a scrap of hide stretched over a skeleton of steel and plastic, shot through with tubes pumping milk.

The mother was a machine! A feeding machine!

NO!

Rat backed away from the hideous sight. She did not belong with things made by scientists. She belonged with her brown cousins in a field, with dirt between her toes, eating corn. The video must be some kind of trick—something faked by the machine, like the signing paws. It wanted Rat to be its friend, and so it played this trick.

Wicked machine!

She seized the screwdriver and jammed the tip beneath the lid of the laser source.

“What are you doing?” The light swept over her. “Oh, everyone wants to see the laser. It's statistical. But where are your goggles?”

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

O
H,
N
O
!

Tap-tap-tap,

tap-a-tap-a-tap-tap.

Jeff shouldered his way into the dark room even before the door was completely open. The motion-activated lights flickered on. It should have been Jeff's first clue. But like the flash in Nanny's eye, the meaning did not register. He was too focused on telling Rat about the flaw in her plan.

“Rat?”

The computer was off. The beautiful lavender hollow in the pillow was empty and cold. He rushed to the bathroom. “Rat?”

Jeff whirled, scanning the room. The laundry drawer was open a crack, just like it should be. Maybe he had done the signal wrong. Maybe Rat was hiding in there. He dropped to his knees and pulled the drawer out. “Rat? Hey, Rat, come on. This is no time for games!”

He poked the clothes, gently at first, then more urgently—started tossing them out, panic rising. A horrible possibility crossed his mind: The investigator had come early, while he was away, and had taken Rat!

As he reached deeper, his knee shifted and something crunched painfully under it: a bit of plaster from Rat's cast. Jeff yanked open the drawer in the night table. Sure enough, the spyvest was gone. Nobody had taken Rat away. She went all by herself!

He jumped onto the bed and stumbled across the mattress to the headboard. Above it, close to the ceiling, was the vent Rat used to spy on Jeff from. There were little toeprints in the soot and a long smear where Rat's tail had dragged against the wall.

Oh, no! She'd gone to steal the laser!

Jeff flung himself off the bed, staggering headlong toward the door. Rat didn't understand. Not only might she damage LB, but there were no rat-sized welder's goggles in her spyvest. If she got that lid up, she'd blind herself!

At the door, Jeff froze. He might not be fast enough. He might already be too late!

Call Bett.

But that meant exposing Rat.

Did he have any other choice? He couldn't let Rat blind herself. He couldn't let her damage LB. Especially not now, when he knew the laser didn't matter one bit.

He reached for the intercom on the wall next to the door. He punched buttons.…

“Hello, Photonics lab, LB speaking.”

“LB! You're alive!”

“LB appreciates your conclusion, Jeff. The question preoccupies Bett. There is much debate about—”

“No. I mean you're okay. Nothing's happened to you.”

“Correction. Nothing was happening. Bett is napping. LB was bored. But now LB has a visitor. The visitor is a modified—”

“Rat's there? Right now?”

“Do you know this rat? We are getting acquainted. She is not as friendly as you.”

I bet!

“LB is concerned. She is trying to see the laser. She has no goggles.”

“Stop her!” What was he saying? How could LB do that?

“LB cannot comply directly. I could wake Bett—”

“Wait! Can Rat hear me?”

“LB can put you on speakerphone.”

“Yes! Hurry!” A click, then Jeff could hear the quiet hum of LB's processors along with the harsh scrape of metal against metal. “Rat, stop! It'll blind you!”

A clatter. Scrabble of paws. Then keys clicking. LB said, “Cousin Rat says: Ignorant boy. Rat's eyes are special. They are protected. Go away. Do not interfere.”

It was so weird to hear Rat's words spoken in LB's voice! And why was LB calling Rat cousin? And how were Rat's eyes protected? Did they have a nictitating membrane, like lizards? Jeff shuddered at the unwelcome idea.

“Rat, listen. Your plan can't work. I figured it out. There isn't just one investigator, there's all of the scientists at Rodengenics to worry about. Killing one won't do anything except prove that you're here.”

For the longest time, Jeff heard nothing but the hum of LB's processors. Then
click-click-click.
LB passed along Rat's answer: “Rat does not care. Rat will kill them. Rat will kill them all.”

Jeff didn't know what to do.

“Cousin Rat,” LB said, “are you really going to take LB's laser source? That will destroy LB. You won't do that, will you, Cousin Rat?”

The keys clicked and LB spoke Rat's words, “Yes! You are wicked. You must be destroyed.”

What was going on?
Wicked
was Rat's word for Nanny, for the food machines, for the scientists. Why was she calling LB that? No time to find out. Jeff could hear the scrape of metal again. “LB! Call Bett. Wake her. Now!”

Almost as soon as the words were out, a feeling of dread hit: sharp toes, sharp teeth. With her leg healed, Rat could really use them. Would she hurt Bett?

The speakerphone picked up the sound of a door opening and Bett's groggy voice calling, “LB, what's going on? I thought I heard voices.”

Jeff hissed into the intercom, “LB, where's Rat?”

“Cousin Rat is gone. She did not even promise to come back. You promised, but you have not come. LB has waited ten hours, five—”

Promises.
That's
what Jeff needed now and quick! “LB, stop! Can Bett hear us?”

“No. LB is talking only to Jeff.”

“Did Bett see Rat?”

“No. Bett is rubbing the crusty remains of ocular secretions from her eyes. She is a little confused.”

“What's going on, LB?” Bett's voice came again, stronger, closer, edged with concern. “Why are so many of your processors active?”

Jeff said, “Then don't tell her anything about Rat's visit, okay?”

“You do not want LB to share this interesting new information with Bett?”

“Yeah, that's right. It's a secret.”

“LB has never had a secret before.” The buzz from the laser source intensified.

“What's the matter, LB?” Bett sounded alarmed. She must be right at the console now, because Jeff heard switches being switched and keys tapping. “Why don't you answer me? And what's this? Why is this intercom line open?”

“LB cannot answer. LB has a secret.”

“What?” Bett asked, sharp and stunned.

Jeff groaned. “LB!”

“LB detects disapproval. LB has revealed no information.”

“You're supposed to keep the secret secret, too.”

There was a huge surge of power.

“Who's on this line?” Bett's voice shouted out at Jeff. “Answer me! What have you done to LB?”

Abruptly, Jeff broke the connection.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

B
ETRAYED

“LB! Call Bett. Wake her. Now!”

The boy's words spat out of the speaker as harshly as a scientist's commands. What was he doing? Telling on Rat? Protecting this wicked machine?