the.stainless.steel.rats.revenge-第14节

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lood　into　an　easily　constructed　arc　furnace　until　I　was　left　with　a　handful　of　dust。　It　was　tempting；　he　had　certainly　killed　enough　people　in　his　short　and　vicious　lifetime　to　call　this　justice。　But　not　tempting　enough。　Cold…blooded　killing　is　just　not　my　thing。　I've　killed　in　self…defense；　I'll　not　deny　that；　but　I　still　maintain　an　exaggerated　respect　for　life　in　all　forms。　Now　that　we　know　that　the　only　thing　on　the　other　side　of　the　sky　is　more　sky；　the　idea　of　an　afterlife　has　finally　been　slid　into　the　history　books　alongside　the　rest　of　the　quaint　and　forgotten　religions。　With　heaven　and　hell　gone　we　are　faced　with　the　necessity　of　making　a　heaven　or　hell　right　here。　What　with　societies　and　metatechnology　and　allied　disciplines　we　have　e　a　long　way；　and　life　on　the　civilized　worlds　is　better　than　it　ever　was　during　the　black　days　of　superstition。　But　with　the　improving　of　here　and　now　es　the　stark　realization　that　here　and　now　is　all　we　have。　Each　of　us　has　only　this　one　brief　experience　with　the　bright　light　of　consciousness　in　that　endless　dark　night　of　eternity　and　must　make　the　most　of　it。　Doing　this　means　we　must　respect　the　existence　of　everyone　else　and　the　most　criminal　act　imaginable　is　the　terminating　of　one　of　these　conscious　existences。　The　Cliaandians　did　not　think　this　way；　which　was　why　I　intensely　enjoyed　dropping　gravel　in　their　gearboxes；　but　I　still　did。　Which　meant　that　I　couldn't　take　the　easy　way　out　of　reducing　gravy…stained　Vaska　to　his　ponent　molecules。　If　I　did　this　I　would　be　no　better　than　they　and　I　would　be　getting　into　the　old　game　of　the　ends　justifying　the　means　and　starting　on　that　downward　track。　I　sighed；　sipped；　and　the　diagrams　I　had　been　visualizing　for　an　arc　furnace　faded　and　vanished。
　　　　Well　what　then？　I　could　chain　him　in　a　cave　with　an　automatic　food　dispenser　if　I　had　a　cave　and　so　forth。　Out。　Given　time　and　hard　work　I　could　alter　his　appearance　and　plant　false　memories　that　would　last　at　least　six　months　and　get　him　into　a　prison　or　a　work　gang　or　a　mental　home　or　such。　Except　I　did　not　have　the　time　for　anything　this　plex。　I　had　until　morningor　lessunless　I　wanted　to　abandon　all　the　work　I　had　already　done　in　creating　the　false　Vaska　and　having　him　accepted。　They　were　probably　getting　involved　in　roll　calls　right　now　so　I　really　should　be　thinking　about　ways　of　getting　back　into　Glupost　rather　than　worrying　about　my　swinish　panion。　I　noticed　his　stomach　beginning　to　bulge　so　I　turned　off　his　appetite。　He　sat　back　and　sighed　and　belched；　with　good　reason。　There　was　a　rustling　on　the　far　wall　as　a　panel　slid　back　and　the　robot　cleaner　trundled　in。
　　　　〃May　I　give　you　a　good　cleaning？〃　it　whispered　in　a　sexy　contralto　voice。　I　told　it　what　it　could　do；　but　it　wasn't　equipped　to　take　this　kind　of　instruction　and　only　clicked　and　whirred　until　I　ordered　it　to　go　to　work。　I　watched　it　gloomily　as　it　hustled　about　and　made　the　bedand　the　first　spark　of　an　idea　began　to　glimmer　in　the　darkness。
　　　　Vaska　had　stayed　in　the　Robotnik　for　an　entire　day　without　any　trouble。　How　long　would　it　be　possible　to　hold　him　here？　Theoretically　forever　if　enough　money　were　deposited　to　the　room's　account。　But　he　could　not　be　kept　subjugated　by　hypnosis　for　more　than　a　day　or　two　if　I　were　not　there　to　reinforce　the　suggestion。　Or　could　he　。　。　。？　I　would　have　to　find　the　control　center　of　the　hotel　before　I　could　make　any　final　decisions。　But　this　could　be　the　right　idea。
　　　　I　left　Vaska　watching　an　historical　space　opera　on　TV；　with　the　suggestion　that　this　was　the　finest　entertainment　he　had　ever　witnessed；　which　might　possibly　be　the　truth。　Loaded　with　instruments　and　tools　I　went　on　the　prowl。　There　would　be　a　serviceway　for　the　robots　behind　the　rooms；　but　it　was　undoubtedly　small；　dark　and　dusty。　That　was　a　last　resort。　As　mechanized　as　this　hotel　was；　human　beings　had　built　it　and　could　repair　it　if　they　had　to。　A　quick　prowl　of　the　lower　hallways　near　the　entrance　uncovered　a　concealed　door　with　a　disguised　keyhole。　It　was　flush　with　the　wall　and　outlined　with　paneling；　designed　to　be　unobtrusive　to　maintain　the　fiction　that　the　Robotnik　was　a　hundred　percent　robot　run。　I　spent　more　time　with　my　instrumentation；　making　sure　there　were　no　bugs　on　the　door；　than　I　did　opening　it。　The　lock　was　a　joke。　There　was　no　one　in　sight　when　I　slipped　through　the　door　and　closed　it　behind　me。
　　　　I　felt　like　a　roach　inside　a　radio。　Electronic　ponents　hung；　projected　and　bulged　out　on　all　sides；　cables　and　wires　looped　and　sagged　in　a　profusion　of　electric　spaghetti。　Rolls　of　tape　clicked　and　whirred　on　the　puters；　relays　opened　and　closed；　and　gear　trains　chattered。　It　was　a　very　busy　place。　I　worked　my　way　through　it　examining　the　labels　and　stepping　over　the　little　hutches　where　off　duty　robots　rested；　until　I　found　what　might　be　called　a　control　center。　There　was　even　a　chair　here　before　a　console；　that　was　designed　for　the　human　form；　and　I　dropped　into　it。　And　set　to　work。　I　had　been　mulling　my　new　plan　over　while　tripping　through　this　mechanical　jungle　and　now　knew　what　had　to　be　done。
　　　　First；　the　electronic　bugs　in　Vaska's　room。　I　did　not　want　him　observed　or　listened　to。　The　bugging　circuits　were　easy　enough　to　find　and　there　was　even　a　monitor　screen　that　could　be　connected　to　any　of　them。　I　tested　this　out　and　apparently　there　was　a　bug　in　every　room　in　the　hotel　and　some　interesting　things　were　going　on；　but　I　have　never　been　much　of　a　voyeur；　preferring　participation　to　observation；　and　a　married　roan　now　as　well。　And　time　was　passing　quickly。　All　of　the　bugging　circuits　came　together　into　a　cable　that　vanished　through　the　wall；　to　the　local　police　station　or　other　government　bureau。　Which　gave　roe　the　idea。　I　had　no　time　to　fix　a　tape　and　soundtrack　that　would　pump　phoney　information　into　the　bugging　circuit；　I　had　to　improvise。　This　was　done　easily　enough　by　feeding　the　signal　from　the　bugging　circuit　of　another　room　into　the　wire　from　the　room　Vaska　was　occupying。　From　the　way　this　setup　was　arranged　it　was　obvious　that　the　bugs　were　used　to　watch　only　one　room　at　a　time；　for　reasons　best　known　to　the　people　who　built　it。　There　was　about　one　chance　in　ten　thousand　that　it　would　ever　be　noticed　that　the　same　signal　was　ing　from　two　rooms。　And　these　odds　were　good　enough　for　me。　Over　half　of　the　rooms　were　empty　in　any　case；　which　improved　the　odds　even　more。
　　　　Vaska　could　neither　be　seen　nor　heard　now。　The　room　and　associated　pleasures　had　to　be　paid　for；　but　before　I　left　I　would　deposit　enough　money　（all　stolen）　to　last　a　year　if　needs　be。
　　　　A　way　to　keep　him　in　the　room　for　that　length　of　time　was　now　needed　and　Iwith　my　usual　fertile　imagination　and　basically　nasty　naturehad　already　devised　that　scheme。　A　small　tape　recorder　was　wired　into　the　speaker　circuit　for　the　room；　a　timer　attached；　and　the　whole　device　concealed　in　the　maze　of　other　circuits　and　ponents。　I　programmed　the　tape；　set　the　timer　and　started　it　up。　Then　rushed　back　to　the　room　to　watch　my　creation　begin　its　job。
　　　　Vaska　still　had　his　eyes　glued　to　the　TV　screen；　panting　with　passion　as　mighty　spaceships　locked　in　frenzied　destruction。　Blaster　cannon　sizzled　and　ravening　energies　raved；　and　through　this　cut　my　recorded　voice。
　　　　〃Now　here　this；　Vaska；　now　hear　this。　You　have　had　a　long　day　and　you　are　sleepy。　You　are　yawning。　You　are　going　to　turn　off　the　lights　and　retire　now；　to　sleep　the　sound　sleep　of　the　blessed　for　tomorrow　is　another　day。〃
　　　　And　that　was　the　big　lie。　For　tomorrow　would　not　be　another　day；　not　for　dear　Vaska。　It　was　going　to　be　the　same　one　all　over　again。　He　would　be　lulled　into　a　deep　sleep　and　an　even　deeper　trance　by　my　soothing　voice。　And　while　there　it　would　be　explained　to　him　that　he　would　forget　this　day　so　he　could　wake　up　on　the　morning　of　his　last　day　of　leave　before　reporting　for　active　duty。　He　would　wake　up　with　a　slight　hangover　from　the　celebrations　of　the　night　before　and　would　make　an　easy　day　of　it。　Just　lie　around　the　hotel　room；　read　a　bit；　eat　some　food；　watch　TV；　and　retire　early。　He　would　enjoy　himself。　He　would　enjoy　himself　the　same　way　every　day　until　the　program　was　broken。
　　　　It　was　a　wonderful　plan　and　as　foolproof　as　possible。　I　fed　over　half　of　my　liquid　funds　into　the　paying　hopper　and　the　balance　of　the　wall　indicator　shot　up　to　an　enormous　number。
　　　　Slowly　and　happily；　I　reached　out　and　hung　the　DO　NOT　DISTURB　sign　on　the　outside　of　the　door。
　　　　And　then　I　got　depressed　and　turned　the　lights　back　on　and　looked　around　for　the　bottle　that　had　provided　me　with　so　much　inspiration　so　far。　Vaska　was　well　taken　care　of。
　　　　But　how　did　I　get　back　into　the　thri6e…guarded　and　now　doubly　wakeful　military　base？
　　　　That　high　stone　wall　loomed　as　large　in　my　brain　as　it　did　in　reality。　I　had　made　a　fuss　going　over　it　and　alerted　everyone。　It　would　be　nice　if　I　could　return　without　anyone　knowing；　sneaking　under　it　perhaps。　Out　of　the　question；　digging　and　earth　moving　and　things　like　that　could　not　be　acplished　in　a　few　hours。　Steal　a　plane；　fly　over；　parachute　in？　And　be　shot　down　before　I　hit　the　ground。　There　could　be　no　worse　time　than　the　present　to　try　to　enter　or　leave　the　base。　The　guards　would　be　suspicious　and　reinforced　and　the　place