RC5 - Refuge, Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 5 - Rob Chilson

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Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 5: Refuge, by Rob Chilson

ISAAC ASIMOV’S

ROBOT

CITY

BOOK 5: REFUGE

ROB CHILSON

CITIES

ISAAC ASIMOV

Through eighty percent of the history of Homo sapiens, all human beings were hunters and gatherers. Of necessity,

they were wanderers, for to stay in one place would mean gathering all there was of vegetable food and driving away

all there was of animal food—and starvation would follow.

The only habitations such wanderers (or “nomads”) could have would have to be either parts of the environment,

such as caves, or light and movable artifacts, such as tents.

Agriculture, however, came into being some ten thousand years ago and that introduced a great change.

Farms, unlike human beings and animals, are not mobile. The need to take care of farms and agricultural produce

nailed the farmers to the ground. The more they grew dependent upon the harvest to maintain their swollen numbers

(too great for most to survive if they had to return to hunting and gathering), the more hopelessly immobile they

became. They could not run away, except for brief intervals, from wild animals, and they could not run away at all

from nomadic raiders who wished to help themselves to the copious foodstores that they had not worked for.

It followed that farmers had to fight off their enemies; they had no choice. They had to band together and build their

houses in a huddle, for in unity there was strength. Forethought or, failing that, bitter experience, caused them to

build the huddle of houses on an elevation where there was a natural water supply, and to lay in foodstores and then

build a wall about the whole. Thus were built the first cities.

Once farmers learned to protect themselves and their farms, and became reasonably secure, they found they could

produce more food than they required for their own needs. Some of the city-dwellers, therefore, could do work of

other types and exchange their products for some of the excess food produced by the farmers. The cities became the

homes of artisans, merchants, administrators, priests, and so on. Human existence came to transcend the bare search

for food, clothing, and shelter. In short, civilization became possible and the very word “civilization” is from the

Latin for “citydweller.”

Each city was developed into a political unit, with some sort of ruler, or decision-maker, for this was required if

defense of homes and farms was to be made efficient and successful. The necessity of being prepared for battle

against nomads led to the development of soldiers and weapons which, during peaceful periods, could be used to

police and control the city population itself. Thus, there developed the “city-state.”

As population continued to grow, each city-state tried to extend the food-growing area under its control. Inevitably,

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Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 5: Refuge, by Rob Chilson

neighboring city-states would collide and there would be disputes, which became armed wars.

The tendency would be for one city-state to grow at the expense of others, with the result that an “empire” would be

established. Such large units tended to be more effective than smaller ones, for reasons that are easy to explain.

Consider that agriculture requires fresh water, and that the surest supply of that is to be found in a sizable river. For

that reason, early farming communities were built along the shores of rivers such as the Nile, the Euphrates, the

Indus, and the Hwang-Ho. (The rivers also served as easy avenues for commerce, transportation, and

communication.)

Rivers, however, took work. Dikes had to be built along the shores to confine the river and prevent ruin through

floods. Irrigation ditches had to be built to bring a controlled supply of water directly to the farms. To dike a river

and to maintain a system of irrigation requires cooperation not only of individuals within a given city-state, but

among the city-states themselves. If one city-state allowed its own system to deteriorate, the flood that might follow

would disastrously affect all other city-states downstream. An empire that controls many city-states can, more

effectively, enforce the necessary cooperation and maintain a general prosperity.

An empire, however, usually means the domination of many people by one conquering group, and resentment builds

up, and struggles for “liberty” break out. Eventually, under weak rulers, an empire is therefore likely to break up.

World history seems to demonstrate an oscillation between empires (often prosperous, but despotic), and

decentralized political units (often producing a high culture, but quarrelsome and militarily weak).

On the whole, though, the tendency has been in the direction not only of large units, but of larger and larger ones, as

advancing technology made transportation and communication easier and more efficient, and as overall population

increase heightened the perceived value of security and prosperity over liberty and squabbling.

As population grew, cities grew larger and more populous, too. Memphis-Thebes-Nineveh-Babylon—and then,

eventually, Rome, which at its peak in the second century A.D. may have been the first city to have a population of

one million.

The multi-million city became a feature of the modem world after the Industrial Revolution introduced enormous

advances in transportation and communication. The nineteenth century saw cities of four million people and the early

twentieth century saw cities of six and seven million people.

All through the last ten thousand years, in other words, the world has become more and more urbanized, and after

World War II, the process became a runaway cancer. In the last forty years, the world population has doubled and the

population of the developing countries, where the birth rate remained high, has considerably more than doubled. We

now have cities, like Mexico City, São Paulo, Calcutta, with populations climbing toward the twenty million mark

and threatening to go higher still. Such cities are becoming squalid expanses of shantytowns, endlessly polluted,

without adequate sanitation, and with the very technological factors that encourage the growth beginning to break

down.

Where do we go from here? Anywhere other than decay, breakdown and dissolution?

I tackled the problem of the future city in my novel The Caves of Steel, which first appeared as a three-part serial in

Galaxy Science Fiction in 1953. I was influenced in my thinking by the fact that I happen to be a claustrophile. I feel

comfortable in crowded and enclosed environments.

Thus, I enjoy living in the center of Manhattan. I move about its crowded canyons with ease and with no sensation of

discomfort. I like to work in a room with the blinds pulled down, and at a desk that faces a blank wall, so that I

increase my feeling of enclosure.

Naturally, then, I pictured my future New York as a kind of much more extreme version than the present New York.

Some people marveled at my imagination.

“How could you think up such a nightmare existence as that in The Caves of Steel?”

To which I would reply in puzzled surprise, “What nightmare existence?”

I had added one novelty, to be sure. I had the entire huge city of the future built underground.

Perhaps that was what made it seem a nightmare existence, but there are advantages to underground life, if you stop

to think of it.

First, weather would no longer be important, since it is primarily a phenomenon of the atmosphere. Rain, snow, and

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Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 5: Refuge, by Rob Chilson

fog would not trouble the underground world. Even temperature variations are limited to the open surface and would

not exist underground. Whether day or night, summer or winter, temperatures in the underground city would remain

equable and nearly constant. In place of spending energy on heating and cooling, you would have to spend energy on

ventilation, to be sure, but I think that this would involve a large net saving. Electrified transportation would be

required to avoid the pollution of the internal-combustion engine, but then walking (considering the certainty of good

weather) would become much more attractive and that, too, would not only save energy, but would promote better

health.

The only adverse environmental conditions that would affect the underground world would be volcanoes,

earthquakes, and meteoric impacts. However, we know where volcanoes exist and where earthquakes are common

and might avoid those areas. And perhaps we will have a space patrol to destroy any meteoric objects likely to bring

them uncomfortably close.

Second, local time would no longer be important. On the surface, the tyranny of day and night cannot be avoided,

and when it is morning in one place, it is noon in another, evening in still another and midnight in yet another. The

rhythm of human life is therefore out of phase. Underground, where artificial light will determine the day, we can if

we wish make a uniform time the planet over. This would certainly simplify global cooperation and would eliminate

jet lag. (If a global day and global night turn out to have serious deficiencies, any other system can be set up. The

point is it will be our system and not one forced on us by the accident of Earth’s rotation.)

Third, the ecological structure could be stabilized. Right now, with humanity on the planetary surface, we encumber

the Earth. Our enormous numbers take up room, as do all the structures we build to house ourselves and our

machines, to make possible our transportation and communication, to offer ourselves rest and recreation. All these

things distort the wild, depriving many species of plants and animals of their natural habitat—and sometimes,

involuntarily, favoring a few, such as rats and roaches.

If humanity and its structures are removed below ground —well below the level of the natural world of the

burrowing animals—Man would still occupy the surface with his farms, his forestry, his observation towers, his air

terminals and so on, but the extent of that occupation would be enormously decreased. Indeed, as one imagines the

underground world becoming increasingly elaborate, one can visualize much of the food supply eventually deriving

from soilless crops grown in artificially illuminated areas underground. The Earth’s surface might be increasingly

turned over to park and to wilderness, maintained at ecological stability.

Nor would we be depriving ourselves of nature. Indeed, it would be closer. It might seem that to withdraw

underground is to withdraw from the natural world, but would that be so? Would the withdrawal be more complete

than it is now, when so many people work in city buildings that are often windowless and artificially conditioned?

Even where there are windows, what is the prospect one views (if one bothers to), but sun, sky, and buildings to the

horizon—plus some limited greenery?

And to get away from the city now? To reach the real countryside? One must travel horizontally for miles and miles,

first across city pavements and then across suburban sprawls. And the countryside we would be viewing would be

steadily retreating and steadily undergoing damage.

In the underground world, we might have areas of greenery, too, even parks—and tropical growth in greenhouses.

But we don’t have to depend on these makeshift attempts, comforting though they may be to many. We need only go

straight up, a mere couple of hundred yards above the level of “Main Street, Underground” and—there you are.

The surface you would visit would be nature—perhaps tamer than it might be, but relatively unspoiled. The surface

would have to be protected from too frequent, or too intense, or too careless visiting, but however carefully restricted

the upward trips might be the chances are that the dwellers in the underground world would see more of the natural

world, under ecologically sounder conditions, than dwellers of surface cities do today.

I am interested to see, by the way, that the notion of underground living has begun to seem more realistic in the

decades since I wrote The Caves of Steel. For instance, many cities in the more northerly latitudes (where cold

weather, ice, and snow inhibit shopping by making it unpleasant) are building underground shopping malls—more

and more elaborate, more and more self-contained, more and more like my own imagined world.

However, my imagination is not the only one the world possesses. Here we have Refuge, by Rob Chilson, in which

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Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 5: Refuge, by Rob Chilson

my underground city of the future is explored by another science-fiction writer skilled in his craft, who has taken my

underground cities as the starting point for his own.

CHAPTER 1

KAPPA WHALE

The stars gave no light. Derec crawled slowly along the ship’s hull, peering intently through his helmet at the silvery

metal. The ship was below him, or beside him, depending entirely on how one looked at it. He preferred to think of it

as “beside”—he felt less as if he might fall that way.

To his left, to his right, “above” and “below” him, was nothing. But space was nothing new to Derec, whose

memories began only a few months ago in a space capsule—a lifepod, in fact. At the moment he had no time for

memories of the pod, of the ice asteroid, or of capture by the nonhuman pirate Aranimas. He was concentrating on

swimming.

“I’m at the strut,” he announced.

“Good,” said Ariel, her voice booming in his helmet.

Derec hadn’t time to turn his radio down, nor did he wish to let go just yet. His crawl along the hull, helped by the

electromagnets in knees and palms, had been slow, but inexorable. When he seized the strut, his hand stopped but his

body continued on past, like a swimmer carried by a wave. A wave.()f inertia.

Gripping the strut, he found himself slowly swinging around it like a flag, facing back the way he’d come. He had

realized immediately that he shouldn’t have grabbed the strut, but didn’t compound his error by trying to undo it. He

let the swing take him, absorbed his momentum with his arm—it creaked painfully—and came to a stop.

A robot, advancing in its tracks, arrested itself on the other side of the strut in the proper way: a hand braced against

it, the arm soaking up the momentum like a spring. Being a robot, he had no fear of sprained wrists, the most

common injuries in free-fall.

The robot, Mandelbrot, paused courteously while Derec resolved his entanglement with the strut. Derec gripped it

with both hands and bent one elbow while keeping the other straight. His body revolved slowly around the bent arm

until he had reversed himself. Placing his foot against the strut, he tippy-toed away from it, letting go, uncoiling, and

reaching out for the hull.

For a moment Derec was in free, dreamy flight, not touching the ship; then his palms touched down, the magnets

clicking against it as he turned on crawlpower. He slid forward on hands and forearms while his inertia wave was

absorbed by the “beach” of the ship’s hull. His chest and belly and finally his knees touched down painfully, to slide

scraping along.

“Frost!” said Ariel. “What are you doing, sawing the hull in half?”

Derec didn’t reply. Not letting all his momentum be absorbed, he came quickly to hands and knees, reaching and

pulling at the hull. The magnets were computer controlled and clicked on and off alternately in the crawl pattern.

In a few seconds he braked and all the magnets went on. He skittered slowly to a stop. Mandelbrot joined him in a

similar fashion and looked at the hull, then moved aside.

“Right, we’re at the hatch,” said Derec. “It doesn’t look like we’ll need any tools to get in; just a matter of turning

inset screws.”

There were two slits in the hull, each in a small circle. The circles were at one edge of a square outline—the hatch.

Derec stuck two fingers in one of the slits, Mandelbrot copying his motion at the other side, and they twisted the

circles clockwise. There was a pop, and the hatch rode free.

“Got it open,” Derec said.

That was a little premature. He would have to stand up on the hull to raise the hatch, or else move around. But before

he could make up his mind, Mandelbrot reinserted his fingers into one of the slits and pulled. The hatch came free

easily. Mandelbrot bent his arm like a rope, heaving the hatch up over his head, put up his other arm, and the hatch

stood out from the hull.

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Isaac Asimov's Robot City Book 5: Refuge, by Rob Chilson

“Can’t see a frosted thing,” muttered Derec. His helmet light bounced off the shiny underside of the hatch and again

off the huddled machinery exposed, but without air to scatter the light, what he saw was a collection of parallel and

crossing lines of light against velvet blackness. After a moment, however, he made out a handle. These things

weren’t meant only for doctorates in mechanical engineering to understand, after all. There was a release in the

handle.

Squeezing the release, Derec pulled up on the handle. Nothing happened. There wasn’t room on the handle for

Mandelbrot to help him. Gripping it tightly, Derec stood on the hull and put his back into it. It came free with a

creaky vibration he felt all the way up through the soles of his feet, an odd sort of hearing.

“Trouble?” Ariel asked, concern in her voice. Perhaps she had heard his breathing and the gasp when it broke free.

“Stuck, but I got it loose. I think a little ice had frozen around it.”

With the help of the robot, who had released the hatch and now stood upright on the hull, Derec pulled out a mass of

cunningly nested pipes all connected together, rather like unfolding a sofa-bed. Mandelbrot reached down and pulled

a heavy cord, and a mass of thick, silvery plastic unfolded. As soon as the plastic balloon was sufficiently unfolded

not to suffer damage, Derec peered down at its root.

He had to move around to the side, but there was the valve, looking uncommonly like a garden faucet on far-off

Aurora. For a moment Derec was shaken by a perfect memory of a faucet in some dewy garden on the Planet of the

Dawn. He’d had indications before this that he was from that greatest of Spacer planets, but very few specific

memories leaked through his amnesia, fewer still were as sharp as this one.

After a few moments, though, he realized he was not going to remember what or where that garden was. All he knew

about it was that it was a pleasant memory. He had liked that garden. Now all he had of it was the memory of its

faucet.

It isn’t wise to shrug in freefall, so Derec reached carefully inside the hatch and, bracing himself, twisted the faucet.

There was a hiss he heard through his fingers and the air in the arm of his suit, as steam under low pressure rushed

into the balloon. In a moment, Mandelbrot was out of sight behind it.

That wonderful flexible arm came into view, Mandelbrot twisted the return valve, and in a moment there was the

faint murmur of a small pump. Water, too, was moving through the pipes by now.

The radiator and vacuum distillation sections of the water-purification-and-cooling system was in operation. They

had settled down for a long stay in space.

Should have done this days ago, Derec thought but didn’t say aloud. An optimist, he had hoped a ship would have

come by before now. Ariel, who tended to be pessimistic, had doubted.

“I’m coming back by way of the sun side,” he said. “The light’s better.”

Ariel didn’t answer. A punch on a button made his safety line release itself and reel in from the forward airlock. He

reattached it to a ring near the hatch; the robot mimicked his movements. Feeling better about standing upright on the

hull, Derec strode slowly and carefully around the rather narrow cylinder until the tiny red lamp of their current

“sun” came into view, then on around until it was overhead.

A class M dwarf, the red star was no doubt very old. It was certainly very small and it had no real planets. Its biggest

daughter was an ancient lump of rock barely four hundred kilometers in diameter, its next biggest less than half that

in size. Most of its daughters were fragments that ranged from respectable mountains down to fists—and there

weren’t many of any size. A star that old was formed at a time when the nebulas in the galaxy had only begun to be

enriched with heavy elements. This was not a metalliferous star; no prospector had ever bothered to check out those

lumps of rock for anything of value; none ever would.

Dim and worthless though it was, the star lit the way... somewhat. Under its light, the silvery hull looked like

burnished copper—a pleasing sight. Shadows still were sharp-edged, his own shadow an odd-shaped, moving hole, it

seemed, in the hull, a hole into some strange and other-dimensional universe.

Mandelbrot followed him gracefully.

“Detection alert,” said Ariel, sounding bored. “Rock coming our way. Looks like it might be about a mouthful, if you

were hungry for rocks.”

“I’m not,” said Derec, but it made him think of baked potatoes. He was getting hungry.

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IsaacAsimov'sRobotCityBook5:Refuge,byRobChilsonISAACASIMOV’SROBOTCITYBOOK5:REFUGEROBCHILSONCopyright©1988CITIESISAACASIMOVThrougheightypercentofthehistoryofHomosapiens,allhumanbeingswerehuntersandgatherers.Ofnecessity,theywerewanderers,fortostayinoneplacewouldmeangatheringallt\herewasofvegetablefood...

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