Rama 2 by Arthur C. Clarke and Gentry Lee

Nicole was amazed. She reached out to pick up the tiny figure but stopped herself when she heard another voice.

“Lord, what fools these mortals be. Now where is that player I changed into an ass. Bottom, where art thou?”

A second small robot, this one dressed as an elf, leapt into the room. When he saw Nicole, he jumped up from the floor and hovered at eye level for several seconds, his tiny back wings beating at a frantic pace. “I be Puck, fair lass,” he said. “I’ve not seen thee before.” The robot dropped to the ground and was silent. Nicole was now dumbfounded.

“What in the world—” she started to say.

“Shh …” Janos said, motioning for her to be quiet. He pointed at Puck. Bottom was sleeping in the corner near the edge of Janos’ bed. Puck had now found Bottom and was spraying him with a fine light dust from a small pouch. As the three human beings watched, Bottom’s head began to change. Nicole could tell that the small plastic and metal pieces making up the asshead were simply rearranging themselves, but even she was impressed by the scope of the metamorphosis. Puck scampered off just as Bottom awakened with his new human head and started talking.

“1 have had a most rare vision,” Bottom said. “I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream.”

“Bravo. Bravo,” Janos shouted as the creature fell silent.

“Omedeto,” Takagishi added.

Nicole sat down in the single unoccupied chair and looked at her compan­ions. “And to think,” she said, shaking her head, “that I actually told the commander you two were psychologically sound.” She paused two or three seconds. “Would one of you please tell me what is going on here?”

“It’s Wakefield,” Janos said. “The man is absolutely brilliant and, unlike some geniuses, also very clever. In addition he’s a Shakespeare fanatic. He has a whole family of these little guys, although I think Puck is the only one that flies and Bottom’s the only one that changes shape.”

“Puck doesn’t fly,” Richard Wakefield said, coming into the room. “He is barely capable of hovering, and only for a short period.” Wakefield seemed embarrassed. “I didn’t know you were going to be here/’ he said to Nicole. “Sometimes I entertain these two in the middle of their chess game.”

“One night,” Janos added as Nicole remained speechless, “I had just conceded defeat to Shig when we heard what we thought was a fracas in the hall. Moments later, Tybalt and Mercutio entered the room, swearing and slashing their swords at each other.”

“This is a hobby of yours?” Nicole asked after several seconds, indicating the robots with a wave of her hand.

“My lady,” Janos interrupted before Wakefield could answer, “never, never mistake a passion for a hobby. Our esteemed Japanese scientist does not play chess as a hobby, And this young man from The Bard’s home town of Stratford-on-Avon does not create these robots as a hobby.”

Nicole glanced at Richard. She was trying to imagine the amount of energy and work that was necessary for the creation of sophisticated robots like the ones she had just seen. Not to mention talent and, of course, passion. “Very impressive,” she said to Wakefield.

His smile acknowledged her compliment. Nicole excused herself and started to leave the room. Puck zoomed around her and stood in the door­way.

“If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here, While these visions did appear.”

Nicole was laughing as she stepped over the sprite and waved good night to her friends.

Nicole stayed in the exercise room longer than she expected, Ordinarily thirty minutes of hard bicycling or running in place was enough to release her tensions and relax her body for sleep. On this evening, however, with the goal of their mission now so close at hand, it was necessary for her to work out for a longer time to calm her hyperactive system. Part of her difficulty was her residual concern about the report she had filed recommending that Wilson and Brown be separated on all important mission activities.

Was I too hasty? she asked herself. Did I let General Borzov sway my opinion? Nicole was very proud of her professional reputation and often constructively second-guessed her major decisions. Toward the end of her exercise she convinced herself again that she had filed the proper report. Her tired body told her that it was ready to sleep.

When she returned to the living area in the spacecraft, it was dark every­where except in the hallway. As she started to turn left into the corridor that led to her room, she happened to glance beyond the lobby, in the direction of the small room where she kept all the medical supplies. That’s strange, she thought, straining her eyes in the dim light. It looks as if f left the supply room door open.

Nicole walked across the lobby. The supply door was indeed ajar. She had already activated the automatic lock and had started to close the door when she heard a noise inside the dark room. Nicole reached in and turned on the light. She surprised Francesca Sabatini, who was sitting in the comer at a computer terminal. There was information displayed on the monitor in front of her and Francesca was holding a thin bottle in one of her hands.

“Oh, hello Nicole,” Francesca said nonchalantly, as if it were normal for her to be sitting in the dark at the computer in the medical supply room.

Nicole walked slowly over to the computer. “What’s going on?” she said casually, her eyes scanning the information on the screen. From the coded headings, Nicole could tell that Francesca had requested the inventory sub­routine to list the birth control devices available onboard the spacecraft.

“What is this?” Nicole now asked, pointing at the monitor. There was a trace of irritation in her voice. All the cosmonauts knew that the medical supply room was off limits to everyone but the life science officer.

When Francesca still did not reply, Nicole became angry. “How did you get in here?” she demanded. The two women were only a few centimeters apart in the small alcove next to the desk. Nicole suddenly reached over and grabbed the bottle out of Francesca’s hand. While Nicole was reading the label, Francesca pushed her way through the narrow space and headed for the door. Nicole discovered that the liquid in her hand was for inducing abortions and quickly followed Francesca into the lobby.

“Are you going to explain this?” Nicole asked.

“Just give me the bottle, please,” Francesca said finally.

“I can’t do that,” answered Nicole, shaking her head. “This is a very strong medicine with serious side effects. What did you think you were going to do? Steal it and have it pass unnoticed? As soon as 1 completed an inventory comparison I would have known that it was gone.”

The two women stared at each other for several seconds. “Look, Nicole,” Francesca said at length» managing a smile, “this is really a very simple matter. 1 have discovered recently, much to my chagrin, that I am in the very early stages of pregnancy. I wish to abort the embryo. It’s a private matter and I did not want to involve you or any of the rest of the crew.”

“You can’t be pregnant,” Nicole replied quickly. “1 would have seen it in your biometry data.”

“I’m only four or 6ve days. But I’m certain. I can already feel the changes in my body. And it’s the right time of the month.”

“You know the proper procedures for medical problems,” Nicole said after some hesitation. “This might have been very simple, to use your phrase, if you had first come to me. Most likely I would have respected your request for confidentiality. But now you’ve given me a dilemma—”

“Will you stop with the bureaucratic lecture,” Francesca interrupted sharply. “I’m really not interested in the goddamn rules. A man has made me pregnant and I intend to remove the fetus. Now, are you going to give me the bottle, or must I find another way?”

Nicole was outraged. “You are amazing,” she responded to Francesca. “Do you really expect me to hand you this bottle and walk away? Without asking any questions? You may be that cavalier about your life and health, but I certainly am not. I have to examine you first, check your medical history, determine the age of the embryo—only then would I even consider prescribing this medicine for you. Besides, I would feel compelled as well to point out to you that there are moral and psychological ramifications—”

Francesca laughed out loud. “Spare me your ramifications, Nicole. I don’t need your upper class Beauvois morality passing judgment on my life. Con­gratulations to you for raising a child as a single parent. My situation is much different. The father of this baby purposely stopped taking his pills, thinking my being pregnant would rekindle my love for him. He was wrong. This baby is unwanted. Now, should I be more graphic—”