Free The Questor Tapes by D. C. Fontana Page A

nervously and stared around. The uniformed man stood on the corner, holding a police sketch up to the light so that he could read it. “The bobby? You can see what he’s reading from here?”
    Questor looked again, his eyes automatically switching to telescopic mode, which brought in the picture and the writing as clearly as if he held the sheet himself. “Under your likeness there is printing which states you are a technician employed on a highly classified project at an American university. You are suspected of stealing a valuable computing device, and you are traveling with a highly dangerous companion. I assume this last refers to me. Several governments are offering extremely high rewards for information leading to our apprehension and arrest.” He turned back to Jerry. “At the proper time, of course, I will explain that you did not steal me.”
    “Oh, the courts will love that! A machine testifying for the defense.”
    The bobby tucked away the sketch and began to study the passersby with more care. Jerry tapped Questor’s arm and nudged him into a group of tourists on a sightseeing tour of the city at night. They moved past the bobby, concealed by the group. Once beyond the policeman’s sight, Jerry headed down a side street which angled into Leicester Square.
    “Mr. Robinson,” Questor said quietly. He nodded toward a corner ahead. Another bobby stood there, and he too had a copy of the sketch. Questor and Jerry ducked into the recessed doorway of a store.
    “They want us badly.”
    Questor nodded and said, “I think it best, Mr. Robinson, that I proceed alone. I do not wish you harmed.”
    Jerry eyed him, gauging him, not understanding. “Why not? If you can’t feel, why should you care?”
    Questor hesitated, considering reasons. There was only one reasonable, ethical answer. “We had an agreement, which you have honored. A contract is a perfectly logical arrangement.”
    Jerry felt a peculiar emotion choking his throat, making it hard for him to speak. “You know something, Questor? I almost wish it were more.”
    Questor nodded. “I, too.” He glanced around the corner of the doorway and saw that the bobby had left. “Goodbye, Mr. Robinson.”
    Jerry shook his head firmly. “No. I’m not going. Questor, you won’t understand this because it’s very, very human . . . but this is the first time in my life I’ve built something that said, ‘Jerry Robinson, I need help. It’s not just enough to puzzle me out, put me together. I need more.’ Don’t you see what I mean? There’s more to you than just understanding your parts. There’s a whole you . . . though I’m not sure what that whole you really is. I sometimes get nervous when I try to imagine why Vaslovik designed you—” A shrill, high-pitched police whistle interrupted him, and he looked up to see a bobby racing diagonally across the street toward them.
    “You there! Hold where you are!”
    Jerry and Questor broke into a run, careening down the street and around a corner. More whistles erupted behind them, then were drowned out in the rising and falling wail of a police siren. Jerry darted into a narrow cobbled alley and led the way into a quieter side street.
    He scanned left and right and saw a private casino down the street. A uniformed doorman was busy flagging down a cab. The man beside him swayed like a falling top, and only the doorman’s hand kept him from flopping over. Jerry touched Questor’s arm again, and the android followed him toward the casino as a taxi pulled up in answer to the doorman’s signal. While the doorman was diverted putting the drunk into the cab, Jerry and Questor ducked into the club.
    “I think we’re safer here than on the street. But stay close to me. Be casual.”
    “I will follow your example,” Questor said.
    Jerry suddenly felt that their roles should be reversed. Questor was always calm. Jerry was dripping with sweat and slightly annoyed to notice that Questor did not even breathe