Part 10 (2/2)
”But, d.a.m.n it, this suit itself would re-radiate ...”
”The suit is self-decontaminating, Master.”
Hilton was appalled. ”With such stuff as that, and the plastic s.h.i.+eld besides, why all the depth and all that solid lead?”
”The Masters' orders, Master. Machines can, and occasionally do, fail.
So might, conceivably, the plastic.”
”And that structure over there contains the original brain, from which all the copies are made.”
”Yes, Master. We call it the 'Guide'.”
”And you can't touch the Guide. Not even if it means total destruction, none of you can touch it.”
”That is the case, Master.”
”Okay. Back to the car and back to the _Perseus_.”
At the car Hilton took off the suit and hung the thought-screen generator around his neck; and in the car, for twenty five solid minutes, he sat still and thought.
His bluff had worked, up to a point. A good, far point, but not quite far enough. Laro had stopped that ”as you already know” stuff. He was eager to go as far in cooperation as he possibly could ... but he _couldn't_ go far enough but there _had_ to be a way....
Hilton considered way after way. Way after unworkable, useless way.
Until finally he worked out one that might--just possibly might--work.
”Laro, I know that you derive pleasure and satisfaction from serving me--in doing what I ought to be doing myself. But has it ever occurred to you that that's a h.e.l.l of a way to treat a first-cla.s.s, highly capable brain? To waste it on second-hand, copycat, carbon-copy stuff?”
”Why, no, Master, it never did. Besides, anything else would be forbidden ... or would it?”
”Stop somewhere. Park this heap. We're too close to the s.h.i.+p; and besides, I want your full, undivided, concentrated attention. No, I don't think originality was expressly forbidden. It would have been, of course, if the Masters had thought of it, but neither they nor you ever even considered the possibility of such a thing. Right?”
”It may be.... Yes, Master, you are right.”
”Okay.” Hilton took off his necklace, the better to drive home the intensity and sincerity of his thought. ”Now, suppose that you are not my slave and simple automatic relay station. Instead, we are fellow-students, working together upon problems too difficult for either of us to solve alone. Our minds, while independent, are linked or in mesh. Each is helping and instructing the other. Both are working at full power and under free rein at the exploration of brand-new vistas of thought--vistas and expanses which neither of us has ever previously ...”
”Stop, Master, _stop_!” Laro covered both ears with his hands and pulled his mind away from Hilton's. ”You are overloading me!”
”That _is_ quite a load to a.s.similate all at once,” Hilton agreed. ”To help you get used to it, stop calling me 'Master'. That's an order. You may call me Jarve or Jarvis or Hilton or whatever, but no more Master.”
”Very well, sir.”
Hilton laughed and slapped himself on the knee. ”Okay, I'll let you get away with that--at least for a while. And to get away from that slavish 'o' ending on your name, I'll call you 'Larry'. You like?”
”I would like that immensely ... sir.”
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