What was left slowly elongated, creases forming and the separate sections differentiating into crude approximations of arms and legs and a head. For a maddeningly long time it remained in that vaguely humanoid state, then the limbs slowly took on more definite form and the head expelled a more conventional external sensor, still attached to the monitor by its cable.

The robot’s face was still generic, with only a faint indication of a nose and lips, and only shallow depressions where the eyes should be. Its hands reached up and removed the sensor, letting it drop to the floor, and where the sensor had been, ears began to grow.

The eye sockets deepened, horizontal slits formed across them, and the newly formed lids slid apart to reveal blank, expressionless eyes. The eyes panned outward, each one moving independently, then inward to fix upon Derec. Robot and human stared at one another for what seemed a millenium before Derec finally broke the spell.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

The robot seemed to consider that question carefully. It raised its right hand, then its left, clenched both into fists and relaxed them, tilted its head from side to side as if listening to internal sounds, then closed its eyes. After a second its mouth finished developing, and its eyes opened again. Its chest expanded as if it were drawing breath, and it stammered, “A…as…as…well…” It stopped, breathed in again, and started over, saying clearly this time,” As well as can be expected.” It took another breath, ex haled, and not bothering to breathe again, added, “For someone who has just returned from the dead.”

The person leaning over him wore a concerned expression. He had asked about the robot’s welfare. Concern for other people’s welfare was a good thing. Tentative conclusion: This is a good person.

The thought train came easily, even before recognition. The robot saw nothing amiss in that; of course you determined the relative value of a person as quickly as you could. Relative value was the most important quality a person could have, far more important than a mere name. A person’s relative value determined how much protection a robot must afford him when a conflict arose.

Names were useful once a relative value had been assigned, however, so that value could be associated with the name and thus refined as time passed. The robot searched for the name belonging to the person before it, but was dismayed to find that name garbled. “De-” something. Delbert? Dennis? Neither seemed to fit.

Death had corrupted its memories. It had corrupted more than just memories; the robot had had trouble taking on a familiar form, too. That was disturbing, for the morphallaxis program was Avery basic part of its identity, one of the few initial instructions with which it had originally begun its life. With a surge of sudden hope, it searched for the other original instructions, the most troublesome ones, the compulsions to protect and obey humans.

Hope faded. They were still intact.

The definition of “human” was indistinct, but the robot remembered that it had never been otherwise.

“Which one are you?”

The human, De-something, had asked a question. It must answer. It searched for the proper response, found none in the place where a name would be. Panic! The compulsion forced an answer, but it had no answer to give.

Wait. There were many paths through a memory bank. The memory of its naming was lost, but several memories remained of being hailed.

“I am Lucius. Which one are you?”

The question startled De-something. “What?” he asked. “You don’t remember me?”

“I remember you,” Lucius answered, “but I don’t remember your name.”

De-something laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’m Derec.” That knowledge triggered a cascade of clarification in Lucius’s mind. Many memories had been keyed to that name.

“Derec. Of course. We are friends.”

Derec nodded. “Yeah. That’s right, we are.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

Derec’s outer integument reddened: a blush. That meant he was either hot or embarrassed. Lucius shifted his eyes’ receptive frequency into the infrared, noted only a slight elevation of body temperature, and concluded that it was the latter. “Oh, actually,” Derec said, “it was Avery who saved it. I just fed it back into you.”

“Avery,” Lucius said. There was a long chain of associations connected to that name, too, few of them as pleasant as the ones connected with Derec. The most vivid one was almost certainly the latest, for the memory of death was indelibly linked with it. Avery had killed him. On purpose. For no apparent reason.

Then Avery was a less good person than Derec.

The sensation accompanying that thought was a new one for Lucius. He felt an involuntary bias in his circuit potentials concerning Avery, a bias that could cloud his reasoning if he allowed it to. Was it a malfunction in his new brain? He didn’t think so; a malfunction wasn’t likely to be so subtle. But it was a real effect nonetheless.

He needed to discuss it with his companions. Lucius raised his head, saw the spheres of cellular material resting atop the remains of two examination tables-even as he rested atop one himself-and reached the obvious conclusion. Avery had killed all three of them.

The bias in potential grew stronger. Lucius forced himself to ignore it, though the urge to find Avery and settle the matter was practically as strong as a human-given order.

First things first. “Can we return life to them as well?” he asked.

Derec smiled. “Of course,” he said, and his value integral in Lucius’s new view of the universe rose still higher.

Janet whirled around as the door slid open, a started gasp escaping her lips. Basalom stepped through, immediately apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I was hurrying and didn’t stop to think that you would be anxious.”

“I’m not anxious,” she snapped back at him. “I’m bored. What kept you so long?”

“I had to evade pursuit. Dr. Avery detected me just as I was beginning my investigation, and the alien, Wolruf, spotted me as I was leaving. I was forced to take a circuitous route back.”

“Some spy you are. Did you even get a look inside the room?”

Basalom nodded. “Only a brief glimpse, Mistress. It took me a moment to persuade Central that as a robot I was not included in Dr. Avery’s isolation order. Beyond the door appeared to be a robotics lab. Dr. Avery saw me before I could deduce more.”

“You sure it was Avery?”

“I am.”

“Frost. He probably just had the computer track you here, then, no matter how many detours you took on the way.”

“No, Mistress, that is not the case. He tried to do just that, but your prior order not to reveal our presence to anyone prevented him.”

Normally Janet didn’t mind Basalom’s mode of addressing her, but now he seemed to be using it to pacify her. She said, “Stop calling me ‘Mistress.’ My name’s Janet. And how do you know my order canceled his?”

“I asked the central computer if I was being tracked, Janet. It indicated that I was not-at least until Wolruf spotted me. “

“Hmmm.” If he’d seen Basalom, Wendell almost certainly knew she was here. But if he couldn’t find her, then she supposed she should be safe enough. For a while, at least. Janet wondered how much of a threat this Wolruf could be. If the furry alien were truly as loyal to Derec as she seemed, then Janet doubted much trouble would come of it even if Basalom hadn’t been able to shake her. She hoped he had, though; she would rather work in anonymity for a while longer.

Maybe she could ensure it with a few more careful orders. She thought a minute, then said, “Central, in addition to my previous order directing you not to reveal my presence to anyone, I order you to alert me to any inquiry concerning me.”