Despite their biological flaws, human beings continue to see things that our most sophisticated sensors cannot detect, and they understand strange concepts that gelcircuitry minds cannot comprehend. It is no surprise, then, that so many of them go insane.
— Erasmus Dialogues
The standoff in the skies over Corrin between the robot fleet and the hrethgir battleships that constantly sought to destroy them held no sense of urgency after almost two decades; Erasmus was far more interested in a small drama in his own gardens.
There was no need for complex or subtle spy apparatus; he simply observed unobtrusively. Completely intent on a conversation with the latest Serena Butler clone, Gilbertus had not noticed his presence. His human ward seemed enraptured by her presence, though the robot couldn’t understand why. Surely after twenty years Gilbertus would have wearied of his efforts to fashion her into a worthy mate. This clone was flawed, mentally deficient, damaged somehow by Rekur Van’s re-creation of her flesh.
But his ward claimed to be attached to this particular clone, for some inexplicable reason.
Gilbertus looked like an adoring and patient young man as he sat with an open picture book. Serena looked at the illustrations and paid attention to some of his words, but other times she stared at the flowers and the jewel-toned hummingbirds that flitted about, distracting her.
Behind the hibiscus hedge, Erasmus held very still, as if his motionlessness might convince her that he was merely a garden statue. He knew the Serena clone was not stupid… simply uninteresting in any way.
Gilbertus touched her arm. “Look at this, please.” She turned her gaze back to the book, and he continued to read aloud. Over the years, he had diligently taught her how to read. Serena could access any book or record in the vast libraries kept on Corrin, though she rarely chose to do so. Her mind was usually engaged in less meaningful things. Gilbertus had never stopped trying, though.
He showed the Serena clone great masterworks of art. He played exceptional symphonies for her, and he exposed her to many philosophical treatises. Serena was more interested in amusing pictures and funny stories. When she grew bored with the picture book, Gilbertus walked with her around the gardens again.
As he observed Gilbertus’s makeshift teaching techniques, Erasmus recalled that many years ago he had filled the same role with an unruly, feral child. The task had required extreme effort and a relentless dedication that only machines could devote. Eventually, the robot’s work with Gilbertus Albans had paid off.
Now he watched his ward attempting to do the same thing. It was an interesting reversal. Erasmus could find no flaw in his technique. Unfortunately, the results simply weren’t equivalent.
Through medical analyses, Erasmus knew that the Serena clone had the biological potential her genetics provided, but she lacked a mental capacity. More importantly, what she lacked was a set of meaningful experiences, the ordeals and challenges the original Serena had faced. The clone had always been too sheltered, too protected… too numb.
Suddenly Erasmus thought of a way to salvage the situation. Fashioning a broad grin on his platinum face, the robot pushed his way through the crackling hedge and strode over to Gilbertus, who smiled back at his mentor. “Hello, Father. We have just been discussing astronomy. This evening I plan to take Serena out under the night sky and identify constellations.”
“You have done that before,” Erasmus pointed out.
“Yes, but tonight we’ll try again.”
“Gilbertus, I have decided to make you a fine offer. We have other cells, and the possibility for creating many other clones, which will likely be superior to this one. I recognize how hard you have worked to bring this version of Serena up to your level. It is not your fault that you haven’t succeeded. Therefore, I suggest as a gift to you that I will provide another identical clone.” He broadened his flowmetal smile. “We will replace this one so that you can start again. Certainly you will have better results next time.”
The man looked at him with an expression of horror and disbelief. “No, Father! You can’t do that.” He clutched Serena’s arm. “I won’t let you.” Gilbertus held Serena close to him and whispered soothingly to her. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
Though he did not understand the reaction, Erasmus rapidly withdrew his offer. “There is no need to become upset, Gilbertus.”
With a look over his shoulder as if the robot had just betrayed him, Gilbertus quickly took Serena away. Erasmus stood pondering, reassessing what he had just experienced.
* * *
LATE THAT NIGHT, under the dark skies of Corrin, the robot continued to spy on Gilbertus and the clone as they sat outside the villa, staring up into the sky. Though the trails of constantly shifting warships sketched distractions across the backdrop, Gilbertus pointed out patterns of stars, traced outlines, and identified the groupings on old star charts. Serena seemed amused and drew her own patterns in the sky.
Erasmus felt oddly unsettled, even troubled. When he had spent years teaching Gilbertus, at least he received positive feedback and rewards from the progress his ward made. Even the original Serena Butler, with her sharp tongue and emotional debates, had been a worthy mental sparring partner.
But the clone offered none of those things to Gilbertus.
No matter how many times Erasmus reran his thoughts through his gelcircuitry mind, this made no sense at all. It was a puzzle that a sophisticated independent robot should be able to solve. But though he observed the two humans for hours that night, he came no closer to any insight.
What does Gilbertus see in her?