Free The Questor Tapes by D. C. Fontana

murmur.
    “Could Vaslovik have dreamed of replacing the human race with something more efficient?” Darro asked.
    “Mr. Darro, I . . . I can’t guess at what dreams might have been in Dr. Vaslovik’s mind.”
    Phillips urgently waved Darro to the phone. As the project chief took the receiver, Allison turned to the audience again. “The thing I thought important to tell you was that soon after the android broke out, a man came to our archives. He seemed strange at first—incredibly formal—then he became rather charming. I found later he’d broken into all our files and no one could identify him, though he said he was part of the project. He said his name was Questor.”
    She expected an uproar. Instead, the group fell quiet, stunned. Allison leaned forward, her voice low and earnest. “I realize now it was learning to deal with humans even while it was talking to me. I’m not saying it’s dangerous. But it learns very, very fast.”
    Darro hung up the phone and came back to the podium. Allison stepped aside, sensing something wrong. Darro gripped the edges of the lectern so fiercely that it shook. “Ladies and gentlemen . . . I’ve just received word the android and Robinson were detained by British Immigration in London. No passports. They escaped from a locked room within minutes with almost ridiculous ease.”
    Jerry was grateful for the protection of darkness as they slipped out of the air terminal. He had managed to exchange twenty-five dollars into pounds without drawing attention to himself. Then he and Questor joined a group crowding onto the airport shuttle bus into town. Once deposited at the bus terminal, he looked around at Questor.
    “All right. Now where?”
    “We are not in the city center?”
    “No. Wait a minute. Do you mean the exact center of the city, or where things are happening? Uh . . . where people congregate.”
    “Excellent, Mr. Robinson. You clarified your statement most precisely. I believe we should proceed toward the area where . . . things are happening.”
    “We’ll be less noticeable in the underground then.”
    Questor pondered briefly. “The underground is the subway system, also called the tube.”
    “Now you’ve got it.”
    “I’m sure I shall find it most interesting.”
    They located the nearby underground entrance and descended the several flights of stairs with another group of commuters. Jerry studied the comprehensive map of the various lines and decided on the best route to Piccadilly Circus. He pointed out the stop on the map. “There ought to be plenty happening there.”
    Questor frowned. “Entertainment by animals and other such acts will not aid my programmed imperative.”
    “Questor, the word circus in this context doesn’t mean what you think. It’s difficult to explain exactly, but—” His voice was drowned out in the roar of the arriving subway train. Jerry quickly purchased tickets and guided Questor into one of the cars. Happily, the android was so fascinated by the sights, sounds, and smells of this new world that he did not pursue the matter of the word circus.
    They exited at the Piccadilly Circus stop and emerged into a throng of evening street people. Traffic flowed endlessly around the massive fountain that was topped by the graceful statue of Eros. The traditional blaze of neon signs on every building around the great circle seared the night sky and cast strange shadows. Young people clustered at the base of the fountain, playing guitars and flutes, singing their own kind of songs. On every inch of sidewalk, people jostled one another.
    Questor took it all in, fascinated. Here was a world he had not known existed—the gaps in the tapes had jumped over London’s nightlife. Jerry guided him out of the sidewalk traffic pattern and into a quieter area beside the building.
    Questor studied the street corner with great interest. “Curious. Why would that man be examining a printed facsimile of your facial components?”
    Jerry jumped